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HP: I have a Proficiency Panel - 137
🕑 Added 2025-12-18 16:34:41 +0000 UTCChapter 137: Chance Encounter
At Hogwarts, Alchemy was an extremely advanced elective, open only at N.E.W.T. level (sixth year and above) to certain students, and it required taking multiple subjects at once, such as Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Charms.
Because enrolment was often too low, it was not even offered for Harry’s year.
Unfortunately, Shawn was in the same year as Harry.
If he followed the normal route to study Alchemy, he might not even get to see the professor’s face. Shawn did not even know where Hogwarts kept its Alchemy office.
And yet Alchemy was always irresistible.
Muggles thought Alchemy was merely crude, primitive chemistry. But just as wizards knew little of Muggle understanding, Muggles could never truly grasp wizarding Alchemy, and even most wizards could not understand it well.
Just look at what it could achieve. The Philosopher’s Stone that granted immortality, the Knight Bus, the Vanishing Cabinet. This was a field filled with limitless possibilities.
Since deciding to learn Alchemy, Shawn paid closer attention to how older students talked about it.
The castle had been wrapped in a blanket of white snow. The Great Hall smelled of lunch, and the long tables were piled high with food.
Yet at several tables belonging to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, many students still looked weighed down by worry.
“I honestly cannot believe it,” a Gryffindor boy said weakly, poking at the potatoes on his plate. “This ‘blackening’ process sounds simple, but the moment I try it myself, my head goes completely blank.”
“You have only just started learning Alchemy. It is perfectly normal to be confused,” said the Ravenclaw girl beside him.
She tucked several bits of metal into her bag. She was Pamela Patton, a seventh year, one of the few students who had chosen Alchemy.
“Patton, do you mean that once I have studied for a while, I will be able to master Alchemy?” The Gryffindor boy’s eyes lit up instantly.
Everyone knew an Alchemy master, like a Potions master, was a walking Galleon‑harvester.
The moment he imagined himself becoming a big name like Professor Tyra one day, the Gryffindor boy rubbed his hands together without thinking.
“Heh,” Pamela Patton said, rolling her eyes, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Once you have studied for a while, you will get used to it.”
The moment she finished, a chorus of miserable groans rose from the Gryffindors around them.
They were already regretting choosing Alchemy.
Just then, a flock of owls swooped into the Great Hall and dropped parcels onto the tables. A small group of students exchanged a look, then trembled as they put away the extra reading stuffed inside.
The parchment rolls were packed with dense ancient symbols and diagrams, prompting a fresh wave of wailing.
“Another fifteen inches!” one student said in despair. “And it has to cite at least three sixteenth‑century alchemical works!”
From a corner of the Ravenclaw table, Justin craned his neck curiously, then glanced at Shawn.
If he remembered correctly, Shawn had been researching Alchemy lately. His desk had been stacked with books like An Easy Introduction to Ancient Runes, A Runes Dictionary, and A Magical Phonetics Table.
Judging by Shawn’s pace, those books probably had not even lasted a month in his hands.
The snow began growing heavier from three o’clock onwards. That afternoon, Shawn and the others received an urgent notice from Professor Sprout.
The snow that had started the night before had turned into a raging blizzard. Herbology class was cancelled, and Professor Sprout had Shawn and the others put socks and scarves on the mandrakes.
“Neville, your earmuffs are crooked!” Justin called loudly, then straightened Neville’s pink earmuffs for him.
Once their odd‑looking plants were properly winter‑proofed, Professor Sprout pulled a large flowerpot from under the table, shoved the mandrake into it, covered it with damp, dark compost, and left only the tufted leaves sticking out.
“My dear seedlings, do exactly as I do. Our mandrakes are still only babies, and their cries will not be fatal.”
She patted the dirt from her hands and watched the three of them complete the task quickly, a pleased smile appearing at the corner of her mouth.
Few people stayed in the greenhouse for so long, especially with repetitive, fussy work.
But then, looking at the three young wizards in front of her, it was hard not to feel moved. They had supported one another through storms, mud, gales, and heavy snow.
“Oh, how lovely. Truly. There is nothing better than this.”
When they left the greenhouse, all three had scarves wrapped tight and gloves on, stamping three neat trails of footprints into the snow.
Then a face suddenly popped out of a snowman.
“We said we would come find you!”
It was Fred. His whole body was hidden inside the snowman, leaving only a face that looked hilarious even at rest.
“And we have to tell you it is urgent!”
The other snowman spoke too, frightening Neville into screaming several times.
“Where did you find a groundhog? That is funny, but come with us!”
The moment Fred and George moved, the snowmen collapsed into heaps. They hurried so quickly that Shawn, hurrying after them, could not help feeling a flicker of nerves.
“I am guessing you do not really know Professor Tyra,” Fred said as they walked, breath puffing white in the cold.
“It took us a full year to find her.”
George tugged his red‑and‑black scarf tighter, forcing the wind to circle his neck instead of slicing through it.
They passed through the castle doors, crossed the Great Hall, and slipped into a hidden passageway.
The passage was concealed behind a fruit portrait, and it only opened when the fruit changed.
“Professor Tyra is always travelling between Beauxbatons and Uagadou. I would bet there is not a single magic school she has not visited. Do you know Uagadou?” Fred said, eyebrows raised. “Of course, it would be hard for you to know…”
“Uagadou is a wizarding school in Africa’s Mountains of the Moon, in Uganda,” Shawn replied quietly. “It is the largest of the wizarding schools, because it enrolls students from across the whole of Africa.”
George watched Fred’s sentence jam in his throat and asked, curious, “Then you also know Babajide Akingbade?”
“The wizard most likely to succeed Headmaster Dumbledore as the next Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards? I read about him in A History of Magic,” Shawn said softly.
“Merlin’s pants,” George said, eyes widening. “You know Babajide Akingbade, and yet you do not know Professor Tyra?”
“She is an honoured guest of Uagadou and enjoys enormous prestige throughout the Alchemy world. She even serves as an Alchemy advisor to the Ministry of Magic. And they say she has met Master Nicolas Flamel. Rumour has it she worked for the Floo Network in her early years. You should have heard of it, the only company that can produce Floo Powder. No one knows where the entrance is.”
