The secret passage was dim—no torches at all. Then again, if there were torches, it wouldn't be much of a secret passage.
"Passage Thirteen—leads to the Alchemy office and the lavatory—" Fred announced proudly, then quickened his pace.
"I think I get it—Professor Tayra isn't in the books because she doesn't like fame, right?" George said quietly, looking a little odd.
"Alright, we're here. From now on, don't talk—wait quietly," Fred warned, pulling a thin cord from his bag.
"This is one of our masterpieces. We haven't named it yet, but that doesn't stop it being very handy."
George tossed the cord onto the floor; it slithered ahead on its own to the end of the passage, then turned right.
"Professor Tayra has classes on Mondays and Wednesdays. Otherwise you'll never find her—she's busy. She disappears right after class. If we miss her today you'll wait a week; Monday's the only time she stays somewhere to mark homework.
"Oh—and after marking she'll linger in a nearby corridor for a bit, but we never know which corridor. So we use this!"
The thin cord quivered. Fred muttered, "Not that classroom… not here either… then we take Passage Five!"
In a strange hush, Sean followed the twins out from behind a large portrait, hopped down, and slipped into another passage that opened only after six knocks.
"Lumos!" Fred's wandtip flared. "Lumos!" George lit his, too.
"We wait here," Fred said. "When we say go, you 'accidentally' bump into Professor Tayra—carrying all your alchemy books. With luck you'll chat. Without luck, you'll smack right into her—make sure your notebook's on top."
Sean nodded. It felt a bit… contrived, but after hearing they'd literally run into her seven times, he didn't argue.
"Lumos." He lit his own wand and opened Modern Magical History—the entry on Uagadou School of Magic.
Uagadou, in Africa, has been around at least a thousand years. There are many small African magic schools, but Uagadou alone has withstood time and won international renown. Students there are especially strong in Astronomy, Alchemy, and Transfiguration.
At an international Animagus conference, Uagadou's delegation nearly caused a riot with synchronized transformations—grabbing headlines as veteran witches and wizards felt threatened by a team of fourteen-year-olds who turned casually into elephants and cheetahs.
They also cast by gesture alone—the wand was invented in Europe and never spread. Early on they often broke the Statute of Secrecy, and the Ministry was helpless; they'd say, "I only waved my hand—I never meant his jaw to fall off." The Ministry had to rewrite the rules overnight.
"Oh—time! Go!" Fred hissed, shoving Sean out of the passage.
A silver-robed professor with white hair and very low barometric pressure was striding past with a stack of parchments. With a flick of her fingers—no wand—every sheet leapt into a suddenly-appearing wastebin, then bin and paper both vanished.
Flora Tayra was as expressionless as ever. Two months into alchemy and those kids still couldn't tell Feoh from F—the same rune, written differently in different regions.
The silver-haired professor glanced at a thin cord in the corner; two of the "vanished" parchments popped back. A quill shot from her office, scribbled something at lightning speed, and the parchments turned into an owl and flapped away.
At that exact moment in the Hall, Pamela Peyton and a nearby Gryffindor yelped as a scroll smacked their heads.
Watching, Sean focused on the "bin."
"Vanishment, Disillusionment, Revelio, and Transfiguration—"
"Not bad. Sharp instincts." Her brows lifted a fraction; her voice was quiet but loud enough for the twins to hear—though Sean had no idea.
"We have to help him—" Fred spun in anxious circles.
"He's a true alchemy prodigy," George agreed, nodding.
They didn't know Tayra's eyes had already warmed with interest. She flicked her hand; a deafening crunch rang in the twins' ears. The Extendable Ear was being chewed by the wastebin—yes, that bin.
"Busted—run!" The twins vanished.
"Easy Introduction to Ancient Runes, Runic Dictionary, Table of Magical Phonetics—how far have you got?" Afternoon light poured through the stained glass; in the gold glow, Tayra's silver hair looked almost translucent. Clouds drifted past; the light brightened and dimmed, making Sean's eyes gleam.
"I just finished memorizing them," he admitted.
"Not bad." The silver-robed professor stepped closer. Seeing he was a lower-year, her face softened slightly. "You're very interested in alchemy?"
"Yes, Professor." Sean brought out his floating quill—his chance had come.
"A floating quill—nice runic array," she murmured, clearly intrigued. She let go; the quill hovered. "A practice piece—not quite a first work for a true alchemist, but excellent nonetheless."
Calm eyes, now with a hint of approval.
By her second year she'd finished the basic rune arrays, and the rote in Easy Intro, Dictionary, and Phonetics was less than people think. But she hadn't rushed into making alchemical items—unlike two gifted, mischievous boys. Their rashness, at least, made sense.
"How long have you studied alchemy, child?" Her interest was obvious now.
"A month, Professor."
"A month—oh. A month?!"