Alchemy Class Manifesto

The applause in the Great Hall went on for a long time.

The display of the flying badges sent the students into a frenzy, and wave after wave of applause rang out.

Yet the reactions of different year groups were not quite the same—

First- and second-year students looked frustrated, while the older students began considering whether they should choose the course.

"Alchemy isn't included in the O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams," someone whispered. "It'd be terrible if we spent too much time on it and our grades suffered."

"But that's Professor Bones!" another student said in a lowered voice. "He invented Duel Monsters himself!"

Once the Great Hall had finally settled down, Lin An spoke again.

"Before classes officially begin, I have a few words to say, especially to Muggle-born students."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried a power that somehow steadied people's hearts.

"After coming to the Wizarding World, I'm sure you've all noticed—the wizarding society is severely lacking in entertainment.

Everyone's 'leisure activities' are little more than Quidditch, Wizard Chess, or—Duel Monsters."

Laughter rose from the student tables.

"Yes, that game was indeed my creation." Lin An's tone was gentle. "But no one knows that its inspiration came from a Muggle-world comic."

Everyone froze.

His words plunged the entire Great Hall into a brief silence.

A few seconds later, murmurs rose again—Muggle comics? A wizard actually looked at Muggle things?

The corner of Lin An's mouth lifted as he continued. "When I was young, I read that comic, though I can no longer remember its name.

But I remember its spirit—courage, strategy, and trust in one's heart.

So during my time at Hogwarts, I created a real-life dueling system based on its core concepts."

He deliberately paused, his gaze sweeping over the hall.

"My Muggle-born classmates, have you ever wished that the Wizarding World had televisions, films, cameras, game consoles, and record players?

Have you hoped that, when you went home for the holidays, you could bring something magical back for your family?"

The younger students held their breath as they listened.

Hermione Granger's eyes shone.

At that moment, his voice was the only sound left in the Great Hall.

"I will not teach you how to copy Muggle technology, but I will teach you how to create a magical version of that world.

"If you choose my course, I will teach you how to use Alchemy to reshape those ideas—

"To let images flow through crystals, let notes be recorded in magical runes, and let wands become brushes of light."

Applause broke out once more, this time from the lower tables.

The Muggle-born students were almost the first to rise and applaud.

"Of course," Lin An said with a smile, "innovation goes far beyond entertainment.

"Whether your inspiration comes from a novel, a comic, or a dream, it can all be realized through Alchemy.

"Perhaps the next person to change the Wizarding World is sitting among you."

Dumbledore smiled in gratification.

At that moment, the name Bones was once again given the meaning of "hope."

Yet the atmosphere at the Slytherin table was entirely different.

Quite a few students wore complicated expressions—dissatisfied, yet restrained.

Their parents had long since instructed them:

"You must make sure to curry favor with Professor Bones."

In the eyes of pure-blood families, Lin An Alvin Bones's talent meant he was "a potential next Dumbledore,"

or even—"a possible next Dark Lord."

Thus, no matter how unconvinced they were, no one dared be openly disrespectful.

They applauded politely, but their manner was as stiff as a mask.

When his speech ended, Lin An gave a slight bow.

As he passed Dumbledore, the headmaster said softly, "Thank you."

He did not answer, merely giving a slight nod.

He had already understood the meaning behind those words of thanks.

What he had said just now was not merely guidance for the course, but an attempt to mend a rift.

Professor Babbling had inadvertently torn open the wound of blood-status discrimination,

leaving many Muggle-born students discouraged, even questioning whether their efforts held any meaning.

Lin An's words had rekindled their hope—

making them realize that inspiration and creativity were the true core of magic.

He returned to his seat and took a sip of red wine.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Professor Quirrell's movements—the man who was always timid and stammering was stealing glances at him.

That gaze carried an unnatural restraint and resentment.

Lin An smiled faintly to himself.

Voldemort.

That gaze belonged to a being who had once ruled through fear.

Now, he was hidden within a fragile shell, trying to maintain his disguise.

Displeasure, suspicion, and a faint trace of fear.

—Fear that he might become another force beyond control.

Lin An ignored him.

At this point, Voldemort was merely a remnant soul and lingering will.

If they truly fought, he would not even be able to maintain a complete Horcrux.

Lin An lightly tapped the rim of his wineglass, calm calculations flashing through his mind:

If he attempts Resurrection ahead of schedule, the Moon Base can serve as a countermeasure node... No need to rush.

At the other end of the Great Hall, Hermione and Harry were still discussing it excitedly.

"Did you hear that? Those things he mentioned—televisions, games, recorders!"

"Yeah," Harry replied indistinctly through a mouthful of chicken leg. "I saw a CD player at the Dursley Household, but they never let me use it."

"That's a machine for playing music." Hermione explained, her eyes burning with excitement. "If magic could really make something like that, it would be amazing!"

The more the two spoke, the more engrossed they became, until even Ron was drawn in.

"So Muggles have things like that? Things that can play songs and show images?"

"Of course." Hermione smiled. "Maybe before the term ends, you'll be able to make one yourself."

Just then, a transparent ghost passed through the table.

The students cried out in surprise.

"It's Headless Nick!" someone shouted.

Nick gave a slight bow, his voice gentle. "I was originally called 'Nearly Headless Nick,' but later I became 'Completely Headless Nick.'"

Everyone stared, then asked in unison, "How is that possible? Aren't ghosts unable to be hurt again?"

Nick removed his head from his neck and displayed it proudly. "Thanks to your new professor.

"Back when Lin An Alvin Bones was still a student, he asked me to take part in an experiment so he could study soul structure.

"He promised that if I was willing to cooperate, he would help me sever it completely."

The students were dumbfounded.

Ron blurted out, "He... he studied ghosts?"

"And he invented spells that can harm spiritual beings." Nick said proudly. "That's how I became an official member of the Head-Hunting Club!"

Laughter and cries of astonishment mingled together.

This old story quickly spread among the students. In less than half an hour, nearly the entire school knew—

"Professor Bones can make a ghost truly 'die' once."

The feast lasted until late at night.

Once the crowds had dispersed, Lin An was led to the staff quarters by Professor Flitwick.

The room was spacious and tidy, furnished with extreme simplicity—exactly to his liking.

He took a note from his coat pocket. A single sentence was scrawled across it:

"Tonight, Black Forest. You owe me an explanation. —Severus Snape."