Chapter 451: Jade Workshop

It was especially amusing to talk face-to-face with a friend in a smooth mirror.

Young wizards shouted excitedly, using the mirror to see each other’s surroundings.

For instance, Hermione was in a room crammed with bookshelves, Neville beside brown furniture and a burning fireplace, Justin in a garden.

The magic hand mirror emitted a faint glow, its surface rippling, making every face appear vivid and charming.

Wizard Sean tapped the mirror’s surface with his index finger, and his face vanished into the mirror.

Only a miniature Wizard Sean remained, putting down a book to signal he was still listening.

This was the second function of the magic hand mirror: when face-to-face contact wasn’t needed, it could transmit only sound.

Even more interesting was that its sound transmission mechanism came from a special magical artifact—a rare type of magical artifact.

——Goblin-made artifacts: binoculars.

When Will handed him the binoculars on the dragon cart, Wizard Sean was astonished to discover these binoculars could hear spoken words.

For the first time, he learned the Summoning Charm could be applied to sound… Summoning sound—truly magic.

Thus, the magic hand mirror gained the ability to focus sound: it could isolate only the voices of two talking wizards, or capture all sound.

Like having a “noise-cancellation mode.”

Wizard Sean put away the magic hand mirror, listening to everyone’s enthusiastic chatter as he walked toward the Alchemy Office.

“Oh, Wizard Sean isn’t saying anything—he prepared such a big surprise and won’t tell us a thing.”

“Sometimes I think he’s always preparing some surprise, sometimes even a shock.”

That was Hermione’s voice.

“I can’t see him, but I bet Wizard Sean is quietly listening.”

Justin picked up the thread.

“I couldn’t agree more—he’s probably peeking too.”

Ron agreed.

“He’s definitely ‘lurking.’”

Hermione summed up.

“Wizard Sean?”

Harry whispered tentatively.

Wizard Sean gave the magic hand mirror one last glance, feeling slightly embarrassed at being caught, then turned into the Alchemy Office.

Various ancient instruments here emitted coupled clicking sounds.

Wooden, iron, constantly moving, hanging from the ceiling, floating, shaped like a dragon…

Professor Professor Tela’s office always brimmed with magical ingenuity.

“Come, my dear student.”

Professor Professor Tela looked weary, her silver hair tips still damp with morning dew.

They stepped outside and walked quietly toward the North Tower office near Gryffindor Tower.

It was filled with teleportation nodes like those inside the Ministry of Magic, with at least five fireplaces, all connected to the Floo Network, burning green flames.

The door clicked open.

Wizard Sean observed the walls and ceiling, both built of rough stone, rounded.

Beneath an intricately carved fireplace directly ahead, a fire crackled, illuminating Professor Professor Tela’s joyful face:

“Come, my student. Remember the trick to Floo Powder? Don’t mispronounce it. It’s Jade Workshop—”

With that, the professor grabbed Wizard Sean’s hand, strode to the fireplace, scooped a handful of glittering powder from a bottle on the mantel, and tossed it into the flames.

Green flames swiftly swallowed both of them.

…

Jade Workshop.

This village-sized place was Professor Professor Tela’s personal alchemy workshop, hidden behind a crumbling brick wall in a London alley.

Occasionally, guests visited the workshop, but mostly it served as a gold mine for wizarding merchants.

Flora Olivia Professor Tela, second only to Nicolas Flamel, never produced inferior magical artifacts.

For wizarding merchants, this meant dealing with her was a guaranteed profit—only the scale varied.

Thus, many wizarding merchants frequently visited to cultivate relationships.

Some were descendants of ancient wizarding families, some were Professor Tela’s students from decades past, others were procurement officers for national magical governments.

Among them, Professor Tela’s students came most often.

After all, these young wizards all harbored a deeply buried thought—Flora Olivia Professor Tela, their beloved teacher, had no students.

“You’re? Another of my aunt’s students? Well, fine, come with me.”

Emerging from the fireplace, Wizard Sean first saw an unremarkable black iron door, covered in verdigris.

Beside the door stood a young witch, about twenty, with bright eyes.

“Yes.”

Wizard Sean said, turning his head to see runes carved on the door:

【When we speak openly, we say nothing. But when we write, hidden truths abound.】

This sentiment perfectly matched Wizard Sean’s impression of alchemy.

For centuries, alchemists’ manuscripts had been filled with symbols and codes to prevent malicious parties from gaining knowledge.

“What’s your name?”

The young witch seemed lively and spirited.

“Wizard Sean Green.”

Wizard Sean answered, bowing slightly as the young witch had.

He glanced around again—Professor Professor Tela had vanished somewhere.

That was strange; they’d entered the fireplace together.

“I’ve never seen a wizard so young. I heard decades ago, Britain had merchants your age.”

“My aunt helped them—some were quite remarkable.”

The witch with crimson hair crouched down, bringing her face level with Wizard Sean’s.

Decades ago… Britain…

Wizard Sean couldn’t help thinking of London child laborers—whose lives could be called “hellish”: forced into prolonged labor under brutal conditions, with no safety, their physical and mental health shattered, most never reaching adulthood.

“I’m not a merchant.”

Wizard Sean said.

“Oh, right—you’re not yet Professor Tela’s student?”

The witch with crimson hair giggled.

Wizard Sean sighed slightly, suspecting Professor Professor Tela was watching him somewhere, amused.

“Alright, come in, future Master of Alchemy.”

The young witch extended her slender arm and dripped a drop of pure mercury into the mouth of the ouroboros carved on the door.

Then, the door opened.

Before them stood a vast machine powered entirely by steam and magic, puffing out smoke with a wheezing “huff-huff,” the smoke lining up and drifting far away.

“My aunt’s teacher helped build the Hogwarts Express. In her generation, she still studies the balance between steam and magic…”

The young witch explained enthusiastically.

“Look behind…”

Following her gaze, beyond lay a vast complex of buildings hidden in secret corners of London.