The applause in the Hogwarts Great Hall had not yet died down.
Dumbledore had just finished his introduction, and the name of the new Alchemy professor was already prompting whispers among the students.
At the Hufflepuff table, a blonde girl was the first to speak.
“Susan, your last name is Bones.
Is he your relative?” Susan Bones looked up, offering a slightly nervous nod and smile.
“Yes, Linus Alvin Bones is my cousin.” “Then you must know him really well, right?” a nearby classmate pressed.
“Not really,” Susan said after a moment’s thought.
“When I was little, he was very good to me—he’d buy me candy and toys.
But whenever magic training came up, he became incredibly strict.” Several students exchanged curious glances.
Susan continued, “I remember when I was four, he made me drink a strange potion.
Suddenly, my magic erupted, and everything in the room started flying around.
Only later did I find out that he had specifically designed a ‘Magic Surge Chamber’ for me.” “A Magic Surge Chamber?” one student asked in surprise.
“Yes,” Susan nodded.
“My cousin said every wizard has a Magic Core.
If you repeatedly drain and restore your magic during early childhood, your control will be much stronger in the future.
He wanted me to master my magic from a young age so I wouldn’t be ruled by my emotions.” The Hufflepuff students listened spellbound.
That method of training sounded almost cruel by normal standards—yet it was precisely why Susan’s magic control was astonishingly precise.
“Later, he left Britain to travel,” Susan said, her tone softening.
“He only sent letters and gifts on Christmas and my birthday.” She paused, a smile touching the corners of her lips.
“When I turned eight, he sent a handwritten magic book and a wand.” “A wand?” a classmate gasped.
“The book was an alchemical artifact,” Susan said softly.
“It carried a Memory Charm.
Whenever I learned a spell, I would enter my cousin’s memories, watching his practice sessions and feeling the intricate details of how magic flowed.” Hearing this, the surrounding students burst into exclamations of awe.
Susan smiled with a touch of pride.
“It doesn’t control your will—it only shares experience.
Aunt Amelia made sure I practiced for two hours every day without fail.” It was those three years of rigorous training that allowed Susan to reliably cast basic spells even before entering Hogwarts.
Only on the day she boarded the Hogwarts Express did she realize, to her surprise, that almost none of her peers knew any magic at all.
…
Linus’s golden robes shimmered under the candlelight, his expression serene.
“Students,” his voice rang out, deep and steady.
“Some of you may have heard my name, while others have never met me.
I am Linus Alvin Bones, and I will be teaching Alchemy.” The Great Hall instantly fell quiet.
“Alchemy is an elective course, in principle restricted to third-year students and above.” “My course will not appear on your O.W.L.
or N.E.W.T.
exams—but what I teach will be arts capable of altering your destiny.” He offered a slight smile.
“Now, allow me to perform a small demonstration.” His gaze swept over the crowd, finally landing on the Ravenclaw table.
“The young lady wearing the eagle badge—please step forward.” The girl singled out blinked in surprise before rising from the crowd and walking out.
“I—I’m Penelope Clearwater.” “A lovely name.” Linus gave a brief nod.
“May I borrow your badge?” The girl handed over her blue-and-silver brooch.
Linus brought his hands together and softly chanted.
Ancient, intricate incantations trickled through the air, and a pale green light flickered in his palm.
A few minutes later, he returned the badge.
“Please put it on.” Penelope obeyed.
In the next instant, her body grew light as a feather, and her feet left the floor.
Gasps echoed through the Great Hall.
The girl hovered midair before swooping smoothly in a circle, looking for all the world like a free-spirited ghost.
She flew faster and faster, the hem of her robes brushing against the candlelight as her crisp laughter rang out.
Students stood up one after another, their eyes filled with shock and envy.
Even the staff table buzzed with hushed discussions.
Dumbledore stared at the badge, a rare look of astonishment flickering in his eyes.
Wandless casting, on-the-spot alchemy, and a brief incantation to bestow a flight property.
To perform a temporary enchantment of such complexity through alchemy alone was something even he could not achieve.
The only person who might possess such capability was perhaps Nicolas Flamel.
Five minutes later, the glow on the badge gradually faded, and Penelope landed steadily.
With a light wave of Linus’s hand, a Cushioning Charm took effect, returning the girl to her seat completely unharmed.
The Great Hall erupted in applause once more.
Students chatted excitedly: “Now *that* is real alchemy!” “Way cooler than Quidditch!” “If only we could learn spells like that…” Yet Linus remained entirely calm, showing no trace of self-satisfaction.
He bowed his head slightly, speaking in a measured tone.
“The essence of alchemy is not miracles, but order.
Any miracle is built upon reproducible laws.” As his words fell, total silence swept the room.
Dumbledore offered a meaningful smile.
Professor McGonagall leaned over and whispered softly, “He is more dangerous than the students imagine.” Snape did not reply, merely staring coldly at the new professor.
Linus turned and returned to his seat.
A fleeting thought crossed his mind— *Odin bestowed an eternal enchantment upon Mjolnir with a mere phrase, yet I still require minutes just to keep a badge floating for five.* *There is still a long way to go.* His gaze drifted to the night outside the window.
Moonlight refracted through the glass onto his fingers, cold and sharp.
The demonstration was over.
The applause faded, yet an indescribable tremor lingered in the air.