The Alchemy Bracelet

"Phew."

In the Room of Requirement, Jerry let out a long breath, wiped the fine sweat from his forehead, and picked up his creation from the table: a silver-white bracelet covered in magical patterns that seemed to shimmer in an endless night.

It was the first item Jerry had successfully crafted. He could sense the faintest trace of magic within it.

The bracelet worked much like Neville's Remembrall, except it could speak and tell its wearer what they had forgotten.

"Fuck, kid, hurry up and feed me some magic! I'm starving!" A voice of indeterminate gender came from the bracelet.

Jerry stared at it.

He opened Basic Alchemy beside him and checked his work against the book, word by word. Once he confirmed he had followed every step correctly, he scratched his head in bewilderment.

He had done exactly what the alchemy book said. Why had the bracelet turned out so strange?

What kind of lousy alchemy is this? Are you kidding me? Why does this bracelet have such a filthy mouth?

The bracelet was still cursing, so Jerry picked up a small box nearby and prepared to put it inside.

"Shit, I need magic! What are you doing? Don't eat pickled radish!"

"Silencing Charm!"

After putting the bracelet in the box, Jerry quickly drew his wand and cast a Silencing Charm on it. The bracelet's swearing vanished at once.

As the first thing Jerry had ever successfully crafted, the silver-white bracelet had been something he wanted to treasure, a memento of the start of his journey toward becoming a master alchemist.

But given its foul mouth, Jerry had decided to give it away instead. Neville seemed like a good choice. He wondered how touched Neville would be!

Early the next morning, Jerry spotted Hermione and the new trio of Harry, Ron, and Neville eating at the Gryffindor table. He walked over and sat down.

"Hey, Neville, I've got something for you!"

Everyone looked up at Jerry curiously.

Jerry took a small wooden box from his coat pocket and handed it to Neville.

"This is the first alchemical item I've ever made. It works a lot like your Remembrall, Neville, except it'll tell you what you've forgotten."

Of the four, only Hermione knew Jerry was studying alchemy. Harry, Ron, and Neville had no idea.

Jerry had no choice but to explain. Hermione was excited, while the other three stared at him as if he were a monster.

"You should've been in Ravenclaw, Jerry!" Harry said. The others nodded in agreement.

When Neville heard that Jerry was giving him his first creation, he said, deeply moved, "Thank you, Jerry."

Neville took the box from Jerry and opened it. Inside was a silver-white bracelet. He picked it up and was about to slip it onto his wrist.

Jerry hurriedly stopped him. "Neville, don't put it on now. Wait until you're back in your dormitory. You'll also need to give it some magic once a month, but you don't have to remember that. The bracelet will remind you when it's running low."

Neville nodded silently, his eyes full of gratitude. He tucked the wooden box into his coat pocket, making it bulge even more.

Once Jerry and Neville had finished talking, Harry leaned toward Jerry. "Jerry, do you know what we found on the fourth floor? A huge three-headed dog! And—"

Before Harry could finish, Hermione angrily cut him off. "Enough, Harry! This has nothing to do with Jerry. Don't drag him into it too!"

Ron and Neville shrank back a little at the young witch's anger. Seeing Hermione's furious expression, Harry dropped the subject.

Jerry soothed Hermione, and the group finished breakfast in that tense atmosphere before heading to class.

Jerry had actually wanted to say he already knew. He had even gone to take a curious look during a few of his nighttime wanderings. But Hermione's reaction made him swallow the words.

That morning's class was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Unlike in their other classes, Jerry and Hermione chose seats near the back instead of at the front.

"If you are accidentally bitten by a werewolf..."

At the front of the classroom, amid a pungent reek of garlic, Quirrell stood stammering through the textbook. Jerry wondered whether Quirrell bore some responsibility for Voldemort not having a nose!

Professor Quirrell paid almost no attention to the students in his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. As a result, many of them had grown bolder, especially the Slytherins.

In today's lesson, Malfoy even crumpled paper into little balls and threw them at Quirrell whenever he turned around. A few struck the back of Quirrell's head.

Jerry drew in a sharp breath at the back of the room. Malfoy, you've got guts. If your father Lucius knew you were throwing paper balls at Voldemort, he'd probably wet himself.

"M-Malfoy, how c-could you throw p-paper balls at a professor? O-one point from S-Slytherin."

Malfoy showed no fear at being caught by Quirrell. Are you kidding? I'm fearless!

"Professor Quirrell, your class is too boring. This is Defence Against the Dark Arts. You should at least tell us about Dark Magic," Malfoy said in the same haughty tone.

At Malfoy's words, the classroom erupted. The Slytherins in particular shouted excitedly from their seats, demanding to learn Dark Magic.

"N-no. Dark Magic is t-too dangerous. I c-can't teach it to you, or the Ministry of Magic will c-come after me."

Quirrell's answer only excited Malfoy further. He thumped his chest and said confidently, "Don't worry, Professor Quirrell. Do you know who my father is? He's Lucius Malfoy, and he's on good terms with the Minister for Magic. You'll be fine."

As the noise in the classroom grew louder, Quirrell raised his voice slightly. "P-please, everyone, quiet down a little. I-I have a question for you!"

The students settled down somewhat, ready to hear what he had to say.

"Y-you want to learn Dark Magic, don't you? Then I'll a-ask you a question and see if any of you c-can answer it. Can anyone tell me the incantation for the Killing Curse?"

The moment Quirrell finished speaking, the noisy classroom fell silent.

It was as though every sound had been sealed away, leaving only Quirrell's quiet words lingering in the air.