Chapter 458: Marcus

“Mr. Marcus McGonagall—”

The attendant called out again, lowering his voice.

“You know my name? You once worked in the Auror Office?”

Marcus lifted his head proudly, brimming with energy.

“No no no—”

The attendant shook his head swiftly.

Now it was Marcus’s turn to be baffled.

“Please follow me to the VIP room, esteemed Mr. McGonagall.”

The attendant appeared especially excited, respectfully leading Marcus and Wizard Sean to a quiet room.

The space seemed enchanted with a silence charm, muting all outside noise instantly.

“Sir, may I ask what this is about?”

Marcus always spoke his mind directly.

“Ah, esteemed Mr. McGonagall, you are a friend of Mr. Hermes.”

Please know that the Fairy Workshop offers free access to you and Professor Minerva McGonagall.”

The attendant asked in surprise, unable to understand Marcus’s confusion.

“Friend?”

Marcus furrowed his brow—he had no memory of ever knowing such an alchemical master.

It must be Minerva’s colleague.

At that moment, Wizard Sean tugged at his robe.

“Let’s leave soon, my dear little Green.”

Marcus spoke as if soothing a child.

“My deepest apologies, Mr. McGonagall—please take this magical hand mirror…”

The attendant swiftly placed a thin, lightweight magical hand mirror into Marcus’s hand.

“Would you like a multi-mirror? We have three-mirror, four-mirror, up to seven-mirror models—all crafted personally by Mr. Hermes.

You need not worry about stock; you have the highest priority.”

“What is a multi-mirror? Sir, please explain quickly—my young gentleman here has waited too long.”

Marcus’s interest surged again, and he asked swiftly.

“Of course—a multi-mirror enables multiple people to communicate face-to-face simultaneously. It is a rare product of the Fairy Workshop, with fewer than thirty in existence; the top-tier seven-mirror model has only three copies.”

The attendant explained rapidly.

“This… this… oh—I must ask Minerva—”

Marcus suddenly remembered something, and his expression grew somber.

He dared not spend freely here without knowing who this mysterious alchemist was.

He had always understood: the freest things are often the most expensive.

“Grandpa Marcus, here.”

A special mirror surface appeared beside his hand; when he looked down, Minerva McGonagall’s gentle face appeared clearly upon it.

“My dear Minerva—”

Marcus exclaimed in delight.

Only after a moment did he realize—he widened his eyes, glancing from the mirror to Wizard Sean.

“Do you know an alchemical master named Hermes?”

He swallowed his question and asked Professor McGonagall instead.

“Marcus, you’ve gone senile…”

Minerva McGonagall shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

“Ask Mr. Green.”

The VIP room fell silent; the attentive attendant, upon hearing this, wisely withdrew, leaving only Wizard Sean and Marcus.

“This is our shop, Grandpa Marcus.”

With the noisy clamor gone, Wizard Sean could finally make his words heard by the excitable Marcus.

He had been pondering for a long time whether the magical world had any sound-transmission magic.

“This?”

Marcus’s eyebrows knotted into a question mark.

“When did Minerva become an alchemical master…”

He muttered under his breath.

“It is not Professor McGonagall,”

Wizard Sean said.

Marcus was utterly lost—he racked his brain trying to recall which of his incompetent children could possibly hold such a title, until his dazed gaze landed on Wizard Sean.

Wizard Sean nodded.

“The Thrice-Great Hermes?”

Marcus gasped, his voice rising sharply.

“Just a rumor,”

Wizard Sean shook his head.

“The greatest wizard of the future?”

Marcus’s lips curled into a wide, ecstatic grin.

“The magical world always loves exaggeration, Grandpa Marcus,”

Wizard Sean shook his head like a spinning fan.

“By the beard of Green—”

Marcus finally cried out in joy.

Seconds later, Wizard Sean felt himself rising inexplicably—the glass display cases below shrank as Marcus lifted him into the air.

Three seconds later, a black cat dove from the air, landing and transforming into a young wizard.

“What beard?”

Wizard Sean asked, puzzled.

“A gift bestowed upon the McGonagall family—the beard of Green—”

Marcus remained lost in his bliss.

This time, Wizard Sean heard clearly.

He unconsciously touched his chin—there was no beard there, but his Animagus form had one.

It was hard to say whether this was accurate or not.

…

This was Marcus’s most joyful day in decades.

He surveyed the bustling Fairy Workshop, one hand holding the magical hand mirror, the other holding the young wizard’s, savoring the overflowing joy within him.

The bright blue sky had been waxed; even the winter-worn leaves had been glazed with color.

The world suddenly seemed clear and bright.

Happiness stirred within him like a fluffy little cat.

Was he the happiest wizard under this blue sky?

Yes, of course.

In such a moment, it was impossible to feel troubled—even Voldemort could not shatter his joy.

War would naturally destroy many things, but certain wizards were never greatly affected.

Yes, the top-tier masters—especially the Potions Masters and Alchemical Masters.

Rulers constantly exchanged power, reshaping the magical world to suit their desires.

Yet true top-tier wizards still lived well enough.

His thoughts could be verified by facts: like Nicolas Flamel during Grindelwald’s reign, or Minerva McGonagall, constrained and persuaded to surrender, yet still teaching at Hogwarts under Voldemort’s rule.

Looking at the wizards scrambling to buy the magical hand mirrors, Marcus hummed a cheerful tune under his breath.

“Minerva’s child, my dear child, child of the McGonagall family…”

He muttered incessantly along the way, sometimes laughing at his own words.

Wizard Sean watched Marcus with concern, secretly observing the old wizard’s involuntary, radiant smile through the magical hand mirror.

At the fireplace farewell, the old wizard didn’t blink—he was already pondering how to tell Nai this good news, while soothing himself:

“It’s just a simple parting—spring has come; how far can summer vacation be?

Waiting is painful, but one must endure it…”

Wizard Sean opened his mouth but could not find words to say.

“You can do it, Marcus—”

Then he heard Marcus’s voice again.

Green flames swallowed Wizard Sean’s form.

When the familiar castle appeared before Wizard Sean, he had already figured out, during this day’s free time, how to resolve the curse of the Resurrection Stone.