Chapter 158: The Coming Christmas

This was undoubtedly a series of challenge letters; Professor Terra, as the foremost disciple beneath “Nicolas Flamel,” had achieved alchemical feats that would leave a mark throughout alchemical history.

She was a tenured professor at five entire magical schools, and had her age permitted, she should have been seated among the elders of the International Alchemical Congress.

Yet despite her fame, she had never found a suitable student—this was one reason she traveled between magical schools.

Without students, there is no transmission; and transmission—after all—is one of the paramount duties of the alchemical community.

It had nothing to do with lofty ideals of advancing alchemy; it was merely the alchemist’s own unwillingness to let go.

Every renowned alchemist inevitably possesses a distinct personal style.

This stems from the obscurity and complexity of alchemical knowledge, its abundance of references and symbols—sometimes a single alchemical masterpiece requires several volumes of commentary.

Thus, the rupture of personal transmission is nearly equivalent to the extinction of an entire alchemical branch, especially in the magical world.

After all, most magical progress is driven by individual great wizards.

Inside the Alchemy Office.

Professor Terra stared intently at Wizard Sean.

She should have come to Hogwarts long ago…

“Still…”

Her face was now clearly visible, her voice sharp and clear,

“Very well, child—an incredible achievement!”

She had finally lost her composure.

“From today, your time belongs to the vastness of alchemy. You must finish reading these books after the Christmas holiday…”

“And submit a paper on alchemical rituals.”

Her calm tone carried both sternness and expectation; with a wave of her hand, several books hidden deep within the classroom flew out.

Alchemy, after all, is a ritual magic. Unlike potion-making’s precision, alchemical rituals vary widely, yet nearly all alchemists agree on one thing—a wizard cannot perform two rituals simultaneously.

This means that once an alchemical apprentice develops a habit with one specific ritual, it becomes exceedingly difficult to learn another.

It also signifies that he has entered an alchemical school.

After leaving the alchemy classroom, Wizard Sean carried many books—all bearing Professor Terra’s personal annotations.

Wizard Sean did not know that alchemy operated under a master-apprentice system.

These personal annotations introduced theories and methods that functioned as a master-apprentice certification; if you demonstrated the same unique techniques, alchemists would inevitably trace your lineage.

In the corridor, the rain slowly ceased.

Wizard Sean walked with light steps; he now understood that even within alchemy, his talent was still considerable.

When he first mounted a broomstick, he had realized—he could sense the flow of magic within alchemical constructs, dismantle their magical runes…

Just as a potions master could instinctively judge heat, stirring force, and brewing timing.

This was innate talent for a magical branch—and here, this was the magical world where talent truly mattered.

“Great Green! How was it? Did Professor Terra say—”

The Weasley twins always appeared in the corridor—Wizard Sean had grown accustomed to it.

“No.”

Wizard Sean paused for a few seconds,

“The professor only said: ‘An incredible achievement.’”

“Ah—?”

Fred let out a despairing groan.

“Then all those awful biscuits we ate—”

George added, equally despairing.

Realizing they had revealed too much, the two turned pale and vanished in a flash.

Wizard Sean sighed; if the twins were going to open a shop, he’d gladly sponsor them.

After all, it was a guaranteed profit.

…

One week remained until Christmas.

The sky suddenly cleared, turning a bright, dazzling egg-white.

One morning, the muddy grounds were dusted with a glistening layer of frost. The castle buzzed with the bustling energy of Christmas.

Professor Flitwick, who taught charms, had already decorated his classroom with colorful lights that would transform into real fairies, fluttering their wings.

Outside the Great Hall, in the corridor.

Wizard Sean and the others found the corridor completely blocked by a massive fir tree. Seeing the two enormous feet protruding beneath it and hearing the loud huffing sounds, they knew Hagrid was behind it.

“Hey, Hagrid, need a hand?”

Ron asked, poking his head through the branches.

“No, I’ve got it, thanks, Ron.”

Hagrid grunted, then dragged the fir tree away—it was to be placed in the Great Hall as the Christmas tree.

Everyone eagerly awaited the holiday. The Hut had grown even warmer.

Harry sat on a stool, sipping oat milk, watching the steam rise slowly—he felt this room offered more hope than any other place.

“Wizard Sean, can I test my spell proficiency?”

Wizard Sean had just finished making a howling letter; he was just shy of reaching the [Apprentice] level.

It was also mealtime; everyone in the Hut assumed there was a brief rest before and after meals—they weren’t study maniacs… were they?

“Wizard Sean means, hurry up, Harry.”

Jia Jia Siting teased from the side.

“Oh, right!”

Harry raised his wand nervously.

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

A wooden board floated up.

Wizard Sean waved his wand, and the chart bearing Harry’s large head floated over.

It now read—Harry: Levitation Charm [Proficient], Aqua Eructo [Beginner]…

“That’s impressive!”

Jia Jia Siting was the first to praise,

“A week faster than me. You’re nearly on par with Hermione.”

Hermione lifted her chin:

“Passable.”

Jia Jia Siting pulled out his own chart and smiled:

“In one and a half weeks, from [Beginner] to [Proficient]—you must have a remarkable talent for charms.”

His praise made Harry feel light-headed; when even Hermione and Neville nodded in agreement, he floated even higher.

Aside from flying, he now had another strength—so when people mentioned him, they could say:

“Oh, Potter—he’s brilliant at charms,” instead of: “Ah, that Harry Potter.”

Ron edged closer, saw his own charm proficiency lagged far behind everyone else’s—but his Transfiguration had reached [Beginner]!

All his hard practice had been worth it.

He had never imagined his progress could be seen—

He truly… loved this place…

The Hut always brimmed with hope—but perhaps only Jia Jia Siting knew why.

In any group where everyone’s skill levels are nearly equal, disagreement and prejudice are nearly unavoidable.

But the people in the Hut were not like that; precisely, the harmony and vitality here existed only because Wizard Sean had united several exceptional young wizards.