John had three laboratories in London.
One was on Privet Drive.
One was at Silver Hand Manor.
One was at the school.
At the moment, he was in the school laboratory, researching magic.
In the wizarding fairy-tale collection The Tales of Beedle the Bard, there was a story about a hairy heart.
In short, a wizard locked away his own heart, making himself cold and unfeeling.
Deprived of emotional nourishment, the locked-away heart grew dark.
The wizard fell for a beautiful woman. When she saw the heart, she was deeply saddened and begged him to put the poor heart back where it belonged.
The wizard did so, but the heart had long since grown disobedient and full of darkness.
After returning it to his chest, the wizard became insatiably greedy. He coveted the woman's beautiful, living heart, so he killed her and cut it out.
At the end of the story, the wizard pierced his own hairy heart and died embracing the woman's corpse.
"Proof that you shouldn't fall in love."
That was John's takeaway from the story.
The story was much like what John was about to do.
Unlike the wizard, who cut out his own heart and locked it away,
John was going to forge a Magic Heart in a seething furnace as hot as the sun.
"A heart?" He recalled Alexander pointing at his own chest and asking that question, then smiled. "An interesting question."
That heart would be alchemy's supreme creation.
It would also be a great taboo.
John interlaced his hands and stretched them overhead.
"Another tough job."
Creating a heart with limitless magical power would take a great deal of time.
Once a great alchemist immersed himself in research, he rarely noticed time slipping by.
He drew up a training plan for his students.