Chapter 223: Patent

When Wizard Sean Green’s calm green eyes faded from view, no subsequent creations or improvements by young alchemists ever again stirred the wizards’ interest.

And they themselves fully understood that they no longer needed to compete, just like their teacher.

It seemed no one could come close to the wizard named Wizard Sean Green.

Their disciples no longer needed to compete either, for this legend was so young.

He would become a heavy mountain pressing down upon three generations of alchemists;

or a crown brimming with radiance? Who could say?

…

The young alchemists continued their explanations, watching the multifaceted mirror and Professor Professor Tela, who had suddenly appeared beside him.

Wizard Sean softly said:

“Professor, I still… don’t quite understand.”

Wizard Sean knew that rituals grew exponentially more difficult with the power of magical creatures; he might not be able to produce those objects wizards dreamed of in a short time.

So he was not excited—his path was long and far, far simpler than the wizards imagined.

But undeniably, the Fairy Cookie series symbolized a brilliant future of magic.

“My disciple, excessive humility is like unrefined raw material—it must undergo the necessary elevation of the flame called ‘honor.’

As for how to balance the scales within… perhaps you could ask Headmaster Dumbledore? I hear…”

Professor Professor Tela had just finished smiling when she fell silent.

She seemed to recall something, then looked at her student immersed in knowledge, silently exhaling in relief.

At the end of the Young and Adolescent Alchemist Exchange, Headmaster Dumbledore spoke in a solemn, low voice:

“Enough, my friends—allow an old man to sigh: every spark of alchemy tonight will illuminate a future farther than before.

And now, it is time for the young light to shine on its own—

The International Alchemy Convention’s Bronze Award for Pioneering Contribution is awarded to—Miss Heather Gack—”

Headmaster Dumbledore declared loudly.

The alchemists, feeling their journey worthwhile, applauded loudly and freely.

The extremely young witch flicked her wand, and a stack of paper automatically carried her to the award podium.

Arriving at the podium using one’s own alchemical creation was a small tradition.

The images carved on the twenty-four stone slabs recorded how Master Nicolas Flamel had done it; subsequent young alchemists learned to follow.

“The International Alchemy Convention’s Silver Award for Pioneering Contribution is awarded to—Mr. Lucien Hernandez—”

The Nordic bard-alchemist swept his robe and instantly appeared on the podium.

Wizard Sean watched quietly, wondering where the utility of embedding his own Apparition into his robe might lie.

After Lucien Hernandez returned to his seat, the crowd’s gaze grew even hotter.

“I know everyone is waiting for this moment—”

Headmaster Dumbledore surveyed the banquet hall, his blue eyes glinting behind his half-moon spectacles,

“so now, allow me to announce: the International Alchemy Convention’s Gold Award for Pioneering Contribution is awarded to—”

His wand tapped lightly, and luminous alchemical symbols floated into the air; simultaneously, every wizard raised their wand, fixing their gaze on position seven—the “Miracle” seat—where the young wizard sat.

“Recognized by the International Alchemy Union as the most outstanding talent in six centuries, and simultaneously the youngest member in the convention’s history—the alchemist from Hogwarts—Mr. Wizard Sean Green—”

Wizard Sean walked forward—he had no prepared way to ascend, yet he simply walked quietly, and no one dared to underestimate him—the Bard’s Box still whispered its verse:

“Master Nicolas Flamel’s path has been overturned; future alchemists will no longer merely chase his footsteps, for another alchemist’s silhouette now joins this profound branch of magic…”

Wizard Sean caught fragments of it—he walked faster.

Who could tell him why there were bards at an alchemy convention…

The reward was a badge, of unknown material.

It felt cold upon contact; the front bore the inscription: “As above, so below; thus completing the miracle of the One.”

The back read: “Gold Award for Pioneering Contribution, International Alchemy Convention, End of the Twentieth Century: Wizard Sean Green.”

As Wizard Sean silently examined it, he felt the contract, after the knowledge had been taken, vanish—thus ending the International Alchemy Young and Adolescent Exchange.

Next came the exchange banquet among alchemists from various fields; the castle had twenty-four hidden rooms, sufficient for alchemists to converse to their heart’s content.

The entire International Alchemy Convention would last four days.

On the first day, when it had just begun, the banquet hall was pitch black; by day’s end, when all wizards had arrived, the hall was illuminated by white light.

Throughout the day, young wizards—and even middle-aged ones—sought to converse with Wizard Sean; their demeanor was kind, never showing envy or any dark desire.

Professor Professor Tela smiled in explanation:

“Alchemy’s academic circle has been in decline for six hundred years. Look at the guest of honor seats—what do you see?”

Wizard Sean looked over and saw Master Nicolas Flamel and Headmaster Dumbledore silently watching him.

He understood: magic is power, and power sits here, winking at him.

Candles and fireplaces in the castle emitted warm light, yet night still crept in quietly.

It was a starlit night; alchemists hurried past, their silhouettes flashing before windows in different banquet rooms, each glowing with light.

Behind Professor McGonagall, Wizard Sean and she stood alone in a private banquet hall. He felt no pride from the honor, nor any disturbance. His small figure sat in a large chair, still holding Headmaster Dumbledore’s notebook.

He was already eager to experiment with the ancient Transfiguration runes within.

Meanwhile, beside him lay a notebook recording techniques exchanged among alchemists in the Transfiguration field whom he found interesting—though there was little content.

Those alchemists, upon seeing him, poured out complex knowledge—he understood not a single word.

At that moment, Professor Professor Tela entered:

“Professor McGonagall.”

Professor McGonagall’s excitement and pride from the entire day had not yet settled when Professor Professor Tela continued:

“The International Wizarding Union’s wizards are waiting for us. Though it would take those mediocrities a hundred years to replicate the Fairy Cookies, patent rights can help young Green avoid much trouble.”

Patent?

Wizard Sean looked up.

“Come, my disciple, to meet some special people. Professor Minerva McGonagall, please join us as well.”

Professor Professor Tela added.