The alchemical world had welcomed its Hermes.
That's how the rumors flew. According to "insiders," this was the Daily Prophet's biggest story in a decade—scooped by Rita Skeeter at the risk of her own life.
But with her habit of twisting words and piling on the drama, the students didn't buy the facts. They were just curious.
The gossip spread like wildfire. Some of it was so wild it rivaled the time Sean spent days failing to replicate the twins' self-cleaning broom.
Sean rarely hit a wall in alchemy. He'd only managed a few faint clues.
With the rain picking up, he set the project aside and showed up one morning at the caretaker's office.
A snarling doorknob guarded the entrance. After a few bitten fingers, students had learned to steer clear.
Mr. Filch hustled out from inside. When he opened the door, he found Sean examining the handle.
In the days since the broom had been confiscated, Filch hadn't asked a single question. He just said, in his usual gruff tone:
"Green, fancy some breakfast?"
"Thank you, sir. Could I get a bowl of bone broth?"
Sean handed over the broom. Mrs. Norris leapt onto his shoulder like always.
"The broom's cleaning precision is upgraded—it'll handle any mess perfectly. Sorry I couldn't duplicate the full function, but I reinforced it. Oh, and try the summoning feature."
Filch took the broom, curious but a little nervous.
Sean knew how Filch felt about magic. He craved it, but when it was actually in his hands, he got jittery.
So Sean helped.
"May I come in, sir?"
He asked softly. While Filch fumbled for an answer, Sean casually removed the doorknob.
Moments later, Filch watched the broom zoom from across the room into his hand. His whole frame trembled slightly.
The bone broth was delicious. For someone who couldn't use food charms, cooking a pot like that took serious effort.
Sipping his soup, Sean used his tools to enchant the biting doorknob to recognize its owner.
No more gloves for Filch.
He also carved a little cat door for Mrs. Norris.
…
The Great Hall was buzzing as usual.
A hundred owls swooped in through the open windows, dropping morning mail. Sean looked up instinctively. Owls circled the tables, hunting for recipients. Amid the sea of brown and gray, he spotted a flash of white.
"Snowy" landed on his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. Sean flicked his wand, offering her a plate with meat scraps and toast.
She tucked in gracefully.
Snowy was a girl. When Hagrid told Sean, his eyes had bugged out. Snowy got mad—ignored him for a week and tried dropping letters on his head instead of in his hand.
"Look at this—"
Justin untied a letter from an owl's leg and let out a quiet gasp.
Daily Prophet: Decade of Impact Edition
Everyone leaned in. Justin loved reading the Prophet, but he rarely got this excited.
"'TRIPLE-GREAT HERMES DESCENDS UPON UDALA ALCHEMY CONFERENCE! INTERNATIONAL ALCHEMICAL SOCIETY ROCKED BY SHOCKING REVELATION!
Rita Skeeter—your trembling correspondent—reports: The youngest alchemist in history! Already the brightest comet of the century!
This humble writer can confirm: alchemists have crowned him immortal in their field! Rumor has it the Chocolate Frog Card Committee is drafting his bio…
Regrettably, your correspondent couldn't uncover his identity (though whispers point to Hogwarts). Stay tuned for follow-ups in the Decade of Impact series.
(Note: He created an alchemical marvel—Dumbledore reportedly bought three crates on the spot.)'"
"If it's upgraded Lemon Sherbets—"
"I'd believe the headmaster did that."
The Weasley twins passed by, waving the Prophet with over-the-top faces at Sean.
Food forgotten, everyone crowded around the article.
"Special morning edition? Wait—Sean did go to some conference…"
Ron stared at the "Decade of Impact" headline, gears turning.
"Sean—you know if any of this is true?"
Hermione chimed in.
All eyes swiveled to Sean.
He glanced at the photo: Rita Skeeter, jeweled glasses, blonde curls sculpted into perfect ringlets, flashing a smile she clearly thought was dazzling.
Sean shook his head, resigned.
"Nope."
Wizarding news was always exaggerated—especially in her hands.
He had a hunch why she was hyping him up. The bolded words gave it away:
RITA SKEETER, VERY, SORRY.
Yeah. Probably scared he'd report her illegal Animagus status—especially since a legal Animagus had been standing right next to him.
"Way too over-the-top. Mostly fluff… Aside from 'young' and the maybe-true Dumbledore bit, 'universally recognized,' 'brightest star,' 'Chocolate Frog bio'—all vague nonsense…"
Justin broke it down.
He and Sean's calm responses cooled the hype a bit.
"So you think it's just another fake story?"
Hermione pursed her lips. She'd never trusted that reporter.
"I think it's under-selling him."
Justin said suddenly.
"Huh?!"
Hermione blinked.
…
The Great Hall erupted in chatter. Rita knew how to hook kids—what kind of alchemical wonder makes Dumbledore buy three crates?
And it's tied to Hogwarts?
Hormones or whatever aside, everyone knew Chocolate Frog cards. Those wizards stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Dumbledore.
So—who was the youngest alchemist ever?
Sean figured the rumors would die there. No name, no proof, just hot air. Who'd believe it?
But as he ate quietly, he noticed a cluster of Hufflepuffs huddled together. They whispered, got excited, then merged with students from other houses—and started heading straight for their table.