Political Ripples

Metal-shattering sounds rang out one after another in the Alchemy classroom.

Ian quietly watched the students practice Homogeneous Dual Enchantment from the front of the room.

The first rune was carved fairly smoothly, but when they tried to inscribe the second, the flow of magic fell out of balance, and the first enchantment instantly collapsed.

A wave of energy exploded through the air, filling the classroom with the smell of something scorched.

Several students sighed and had no choice but to fetch new metal plates.

When they realized how much material a single class could consume, their expressions turned complicated.

"No wonder alchemists are called the most expensive profession among wizards," a Hufflepuff student muttered.

Ian did not intervene immediately. He merely paced slowly around the classroom.

He wanted them to experience it firsthand: becoming a true alchemist required far more than enthusiasm.

In his view, this sense of frustration was part of learning.

The students failed more and more often. The air in the classroom gradually grew hot, and discarded metal piled up across the desks.

At last, Ian stopped and spoke softly:

"Balance between enchantments—that is your first lesson."

He raised his wand and pointed it at a metal fragment that was still smoking.

"When you inscribe the second rune, the magical input must be exactly the same as the first. Even the slightest difference will result in destruction."

His gaze swept across the classroom. "Enchanting is a form of surgery. An unsteady hand, unstable magic, or wavering resolve will all lead to failure."

The students immediately straightened up.

The atmosphere in the classroom suddenly became quiet and solemn.

Ian continued, "Becoming an alchemist requires more than magical talent. It requires patience and precision. You must control every ounce of power like a surgeon."

He paused for a moment, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. "All right, continue—but this time, please make your failures worthwhile."

With that, he stepped aside beside the podium and quietly observed.

He deliberately let the students try a few more times.

Amid their failures, he searched for true talents—those who could remain focused amid chaos, and who would not panic when the runes began to tremble.

Eventually, Ian's gaze fell on two red-haired figures.

Fred and George Weasley.

The two worked together flawlessly. One carved the runes while the other infused them with magic. After several attempts, their metal plate actually began to glow faintly.

The two runes overlapped perfectly, and the flow of energy was as steady as rippling water.

A trace of approval flashed through Ian's eyes.

He had known for a long time that the twins' potential in Alchemy far surpassed that of ordinary people.

In the future, they would open their own magic joke shop. That kind of creativity was precisely the soul of an alchemist.

"Not bad." He walked over to them and commented softly, "There's nothing wrong with wild ideas, but you have to give madness some structure."

The two exchanged a smile and immediately understood that this was praise.

Time passed amid their concentration.

When the bell rang, the students looked up and realized that an entire class had passed just like that.

Some of them were even reluctant to stop.

"Why did Professor Bones's class end so quickly?"

"Yeah. In Professor Snape's class, every minute feels like a century."

Laughter echoed through the corridor.

Their laughter carried genuine excitement—the passion of learning, rather than the feeling of completing a task.

After class, the students left the room and enthusiastically discussed the experiment they had just conducted.

"Today's class was so interesting. I learned a lot!"

"I never expected Alchemy to be so practical! The protective badge I made even helped me win a duel yesterday!"

"Same here—that badge is really useful."

Amid the laughter, a Slytherin student gave a cold snort.

"You Muggle-born wizards are always fixated on petty gains."

Everyone turned around. It was Adrian Pucey.

"What do you mean?" a Gryffindor student asked unhappily.

Adrian looked arrogant. "You only see the cost of the materials, but you don't see the true value—knowledge."

"My mother told me that the alchemical texts we use in this class contain many secrets that even the ancient pure-blood families yearn for but cannot obtain."

"And Professor Bones is actually teaching them to you for free."

The crowd erupted in an uproar.

"That's true," another Slytherin student cut in. "I heard my father say that several families among the Sacred Twenty-Eight complained to Dumbledore and the school board, saying that knowledge like this shouldn't be taught at school."

"What happened afterward?"

"Afterward, the Bones family had considerable influence on the school board and also had the headmaster's support, so those protests were suppressed."

Several Muggle-born students exchanged glances. They had never imagined that a single class concealed so many undercurrents of politics.

In just a few minutes, the spark of gossip spread from that corner throughout Hogwarts.

The corridors, dormitories, dining hall... quiet discussions broke out everywhere.

The classroom was empty after the students had dispersed.

Ian leaned against the back of his chair, flipping through a yellowed alchemical notebook.

The winter sunlight streamed through the arched window, and dust drifted slowly through the beams of light.

Suddenly, the air trembled faintly, and a Phoenix formed from silver light appeared before him.

It was a Patronus.

"Professor Bones," the Phoenix said in Dumbledore's gentle voice, "if your class is over, please come to my office. The password is—Lemon Sherbet."

The silver light faded, and the classroom fell silent once more.