Political Ripples

In Alchemy class, the sound of metal cracking rose and fell.

Lin An stood quietly before the lectern, watching the students practice "Homogeneous Dual Enchantment."

The first rune went relatively smoothly, but when they tried to inscribe the second, the flow of magic became unbalanced, and the first enchantment instantly collapsed.

Energy fluctuations burst through the air, and a burnt smell spread throughout the classroom.

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

When they realized how much material a single lesson would consume, their expressions became rather complicated.

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

Lin An did not intervene immediately, merely pacing slowly through the classroom.

He wanted them to experience firsthand that passion alone was nowhere near enough to become a true Alchemist.

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

The students failed more and more often, the classroom air gradually growing hot as piles of ruined metal accumulated on the tables.

At last, Lin An stopped and said softly:

"The balance between enchantments is your first lesson."

He raised his wand and pointed it at a smoking piece of metal debris.

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

His gaze swept across the classroom. "Enchanting is surgery. Unsteady hands, unstable magic, and wavering willpower will all lead to failure."

The students immediately straightened up.

The atmosphere in the classroom suddenly became quiet and solemn.

Lin An continued, "Becoming an Alchemist requires more than magical talent. It requires patience and precision. Like a surgeon, you must control every fraction of your power."

He paused briefly, the corner of his lips lifting. "All right, continue—but this time, make your failures worthwhile."

With that, he stepped back beside the lectern and watched quietly.

He deliberately allowed the students to try a few more times.

Amid their failures, he searched for the true geniuses—those who could remain focused amid chaos and stay calm even as the runes trembled.

In the end, Lin An's gaze settled on two red-haired figures.

Fred and George Weasley.

The two worked in perfect coordination. One inscribed the runes while the other infused them with magic, and after several attempts, their metal plate actually began to glow faintly.

The two runes overlapped perfectly, their energy flow as steady as ripples on water.

A trace of approval flashed through Lin An's eyes.

He had long known that these twins possessed Alchemical potential far beyond ordinary people.

In the future, they would open their own magical joke shop—and that sort of creativity was the soul of an Alchemist.

"Not bad." He walked over to them and commented softly, "Wild ideas are fine, but madness must have structure."

The two exchanged a grin and immediately understood that it was praise.

Time passed amid focused work.

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

Some were even reluctant for it to end.

"Why do Professor Bones's classes end so quickly?"

"Yeah, over in Professor Snape's class, even a minute feels like a century."

A burst of laughter echoed through the corridor.

Their laughter carried genuine excitement—enthusiasm for learning, rather than mere obligation.

After class, the students left the classroom and eagerly discussed the experiment they had just performed.

"Today's lesson was so interesting! I learned so much!"

"I never thought Alchemy could be so practical! The protective badge I made even won me a duel yesterday!"

"Same here—the badge is really useful."

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

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

Everyone turned around. It was Adrian Pucey.

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

Adrian looked arrogant. "You only see the cost of the materials, but not their true value—knowledge."

"My mother told me that the Alchemy textbook used in this class contains many secrets that even ancient pure-blood families desperately want but cannot obtain."

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

The crowd erupted in an uproar.

"It's true," another Slytherin student cut in. "I heard from my father that several families among the Sacred Twenty-Eight complained to Dumbledore and the Board of Governors, saying that this kind of knowledge should not be taught at school."

"What happened afterward?"

"Afterward, the Bones family had considerable influence on the Board of Governors and gained the Headmaster's support, so those protests were suppressed."

Several Muggle-born students looked at one another. They had never imagined that so many political undercurrents lay behind a single class.

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

Corridors, dormitories, the dining hall... whispers filled every corner.

In the classroom, the students had already dispersed.

Lin An leaned back in his chair, flipping through a yellowed Alchemy notebook.

Winter sunlight streamed through the arched windows, dust drifting slowly in the light.

Suddenly, the air trembled faintly, and a Phoenix made of silver light appeared before him.

It was a Patronus.

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

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