Chapter 139

“One month, one month—”

Professor Terra’s expressionless face slightly softened,

“What year are you in, child?”

“First year, Professor.”

Wizard Sean spoke.

“Oh! Of course—otherwise you wouldn’t have…”

The professor froze, paused for several seconds, then showed no hint of doubt about his words—only her eyes narrowed slightly, and the corners of her mouth refused to be suppressed,

“Show me your diagram of the floating quill’s creation process… You’ve improved it, haven’t you?

Otherwise the final step wouldn’t be so perfectly aligned.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Wizard Sean was surprised—could it really be that obvious?

While making the floating quill, he had noticed the Weasleys’ sample could be optimized; they seemed unable to directly sense fine magical flows through will alone.

This made their floating quills appear crude. But Wizard Sean was different—he always sensed the subtle magical currents, just as he had with the broomstick.

So he naturally optimized it, and only after finishing did he realize how dangerous the process had been.

“A skilled alchemist perceives the profound changes within their creations; it is precisely this that reclassifies alchemists.”

Professor Terra’s voice grew warmer.

Wizard Sean had read this line in a book; now hearing it from the professor made it feel more familiar.

“It sounds familiar—so you’ve read that book, *The Fifth Element: Exploration*… That’s excellent.”

Professor Terra was even more pleased; she didn’t tell Wizard Sean that on the cover, in large letters, it read—*By Flora Terra*.

“Among all magical branches, alchemy is the most dependent on innate talent; great alchemists link to truth through the aether and reshape the world;

while mediocre alchemists are fit only to serve as minor clerks in the Ministry or producers of mediocre creations, never glimpsing truth in their lifetimes.”

Professor Terra said this, then waved her hand—a stool bounced out of her office, and she sat down slowly:

“So tell me, child, why do you wish to study alchemy? In other words, how do you view alchemy?”

Wizard Sean paused slightly, recalling the various inventions of the Weasley brothers—simple combinations that produced tremendous effects.

“Alchemy… may still have vast blanks… Activated transfiguration and trigger spells can create canary biscuits; duplication and sustained spells can produce eternal ink… Magic, in some sense, completely ignores science.

If canary biscuits are possible, then hawk biscuits and shark pies should be too;

if infinite ink is possible, then infinite quills and infinite clothing should be too;

if a greenhouse can be enchanted with a constant-temperature spell, then teapots, clothing, and boots could have them too.

These are only the parts of alchemy already explored by predecessors—many areas remain entirely blank… Wizards can simply cast a fire spell to boil water, yet don’t understand steam mechanics; wizards can duplicate pressure, yet don’t grasp the principle of the pressure pump…”

The more he spoke, the brighter Wizard Sean’s eyes became:

“Why must we study the mysteries of alchemy?

Because… it’s there.”

For a long while, the corridor fell into deep silence.

Professor Terra thought deeply—she recalled the alchemists from the last Alchemy Conference who had switched from Muggle Studies; they had astonishingly original ideas.

Though limited by talent, they could only dream and serve as advisory references.

“Are you a half-blood wizard?”

The professor asked softly, her tone neutral, pure curiosity only.

“I’m a Muggle-born wizard, Professor.”

Wizard Sean replied.

“I’ve heard many interesting ideas from that Weasley—he made a flying car too, quite impressive… I have one afternoon free every Monday and Wednesday for you.”

Professor Terra said softly,

“Child, tell me your name.”

“Wizard Sean Green, Professor.”

Wizard Sean replied.

“Flora Terra. Pleased to meet you today. Tell those two Weasleys—I’ll be on this corridor from now on—and don’t keep pretending to trip; no wizard can fall in the same place seven times.”

After speaking, Professor Terra stared long at the notebook resting atop the pile of books.

“You haven’t given me your quill diagram yet, Mr. Green.”

Startled, Wizard Sean finally remembered—he’d forgotten entirely—and hurriedly handed over his notebook.

…

On the corridor, Sir Cadogan had noticeably increased his naps, likely due to the cold—he drank until midnight every night and slept all day.

Wizard Sean walked briskly, heading toward the Transfiguration office to practice, when two fiery shapes suddenly darted from a corner:

“You came out too fast! How did it go?!”

Fred pulled off the helmet’s faceplate, revealing his face hidden inside.

“Don’t tell us you failed—or next time, we’ll charge you Galleons.”

George, hidden behind the armor, was pulling Fred out with all his strength.

Wizard Sean waved his wand—the armor moved on its own, pieces detaching and then reassembling.

“Cool—”

Fred muttered.

“The professor asked me to see her after class.”

Wizard Sean’s tone carried gratitude; he paused, then added,

“By the way, the professor said she’s always on that corridor—don’t keep pretending to trip; no wizard can fall in the same place seven times.”

Fred and George turned red, muttered things like “It’s not falling—it’s wizard business” and “The floor’s just too slippery,” then vanished.

Wizard Sean expected both the reliability and unreliability of the Weasleys; he quickly left the corridor. Two days remained until Wednesday—he needed to familiarize himself with alchemy’s framework as much as possible.

Meanwhile, in the Alchemy Office.

Professor Terra sat in her chair, studying the notebook with interest; her gaze fell on the first sentence and grew grave: 【Potions should share a common root with Alchemy.】

The subsequent explanations of alchemy’s three stages and their correspondence to potions made her nod slightly.

Though Wizard Sean hadn’t written down his will-strengthening methods, these theories had unconsciously shaped his magical perspective, giving his notes a depth of thought.

Professor Terra grew even more satisfied; she turned to Wizard Sean’s diagram of the floating quill—still immature, but with exceptional attention to detail.

But… this “two days”?

The time spent engraving the magical runes?

It took two days to barely make a floating quill…

Professor Terra stood up.