"A month, a month—"
Professor Tayra's impassive look thinned.
"What year are you, child?"
"First year, Professor," Sean said.
"Oh! Of course—otherwise you wouldn't have…" She trailed off for a few seconds. Then, with no hint of doubt, her eyes narrowed slightly and the corner of her mouth almost, but not quite, softened.
"Give me your process diagram for making the floating quill… You modified the process, didn't you? Otherwise the final step wouldn't fit so well."
"Yes, Professor."
Sean was a little surprised. You could tell from that?
When he made the floating quill, he'd noticed the twins' sample could be optimized. The Weasleys didn't seem able to feel the fine flow of magic with their will. That made their quills a bit rough. Sean was different; he could always sense the subtle currents of magic—just like he could in a broom.
So of course he optimized it—and only after finishing did he realize how risky the process was.
"Excellent alchemists can perceive the deep changes of the work in their hands. That, precisely, is what further stratifies alchemists."
Professor Tayra's voice grew warmer.
Sean had read those words in a book; hearing them from the professor made them feel even more familiar.
"Sounds familiar—so you've read The Fifth Element: An Inquiry… very good."
She was more pleased still. What she didn't say: on that book's title page were the words by Flora Tayra.
"Among the magical branches, alchemy is one of the most talent-dependent. Great alchemists touch truth through 'aether' and reshape the world; the mediocre are fit only for minor Ministry posts or for cranking out middling wares—never to glimpse truth in a lifetime."
So said Professor Tayra. With a wave, a stool came hopping from her office, and she sat, unhurried:
"Now tell me, child—why do you want to study alchemy? Put another way: how do you see alchemy?"
Sean hesitated, thinking of the Weasleys' inventions—simple combinations with outsized effects.
"Alchemy, perhaps… still has many blanks. Prime Transfiguration plus trigger charms make Canary Creams; Copying and Sustaining charms make Everlasting Ink… In a way, magic ignores physics.
"If there can be Canary Creams, then there can be Eagle Biscuits, Shark Pies.
If ink can be endless, then quills should be endless, clothes should be endless.
If a greenhouse can hold a Warming Charm, then kettles, garments, boots should too.
"That's just the part our predecessors have probed. Much remains untouched. Wizards can boil a kettle with a single flame charm, yet know nothing of steam; we can copy and pressurize, yet know nothing of pumps…"
The more he spoke, the brighter his eyes:
"Why must we study alchemy's mysteries?
Because… they're there."
The corridor fell into a long, deep hush.
Tayra's mind spun through a dozen things at once—like the alchemists at the last congress who had switched from Muggle studies; their ideas were breathtaking. Talent-limited, they could only advise—but still, breathtaking.
"Are you a half-blood?" she asked softly—no bias, just curiosity.
"I'm Muggle-born, Professor," Sean said.
"I've heard many interesting notions from that Weasley boy; his flying car isn't bad either… Mondays and Wednesdays, I'll set aside an afternoon for you."
"Tell me your name, child."
"Sean Green, Professor."
"Flora Tayra. I'm glad we 'happened' to meet today. Tell those two Weasleys I'll be in this corridor from now on—and stop pretending to trip. No witch or wizard falls in the same spot seven times."
She then stared for a long moment at the notebook on top of Sean's stack.
"Your quill diagram, Mr. Green—I don't have it yet."
Startled, Sean realized he'd actually forgotten; he hurried the notes over.
…
In the corridor, Sir Cadogan had clearly been napping more lately—maybe the cold; he drank till midnight, then slept the day away.
Sean walked lightly, headed for the Transfiguration office to practice—when two clumps of red popped from a corner:
"You're back too fast! How'd it go?!" Fred flipped up the visor on a suit of armor, revealing his face inside.
"Don't tell us you failed—or next time, we're charging Galleons," George said from behind the armor, tugging Fred free.
Sean flicked his wand; the armor animated, plates lifting themselves free and reassembling again.
"Cool—" Fred breathed.
"The professor told me to see her after class," Sean said, grateful. He thought a second, then added, "Oh—and she said she'll always be in that corridor. Also—stop pretending to trip. No witch or wizard falls in the same spot seven times."
Fred and George both flushed. Muttering "Wizards don't trip" and "It was slippery anyway," they vanished.
Sean had expected both their reliability and unreliability. He slipped off—two days until Wednesday, and he needed to absorb as much of alchemy's framework as possible.
Meanwhile, in the Alchemy office—
Professor Tayra sat, leafing Sean's notes with interest. The very first line deepened her gaze: Potions and Alchemy should share a single primal thread.
What followed—the three alchemical phases and their pairing with potions—drew small nods. Though Sean hadn't written out will-strengthening and the like, the theory had already colored his magic—his notes breathed a considered mind.
More and more satisfied, she came to the floating quill schematic—still green in places, but precise in detail.
But… "two days"?
The engraving time?
[Spent two days, barely managed a floating quill…]
Professor Tayra stood up.
~~~
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