The new term had begun.
"Good morning," Hodge stood at the lectern, hands clasped behind his back. "Hodge Blackthorn. Some of you will have heard the name—perhaps in the Great Hall, more likely in the papers—but this is the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting you properly in a classroom. It wasn't easy to arrange."
A ripple of quiet laughter rose from the desks below.
They had indeed heard the name, and more than once. If anyone asked which Hogwarts professor appeared most often in print, the answer was inevitably this young man. Academic journals, society columns, even the gossip pages of the Daily Prophet—Professor Blackthorn had a knack for drifting into the headlines. When he'd taken over the advanced N.E.W.T.-level Alchemy elective, his appointment had earned an entire column-inch in the Prophet all by itself.
Many students still wondered why a rising academic star had chosen Alchemy of all things. He had never shown any particular flair for it before. Hodge himself found the question mildly exasperating. The truth was simple: opportunities were rare. He would happily have taught Muggle Studies, but Charity Burbage was still very much alive and kicking. As for Transfiguration… Dumbledore had slipped away far too quickly. Once the worst of the postwar chaos settled, barely two years later, the old headmaster had negotiated with the Board of Governors and handed the headship to Professor McGonagall. A sitting Headmaster, naturally, could not teach regular classes—too many duties—so that door closed before Hodge had even reached his sixth year.
Fortunately, the previous Alchemy professor announced his retirement shortly afterward. Hodge apprenticed under him for a year after graduating, then took over the post completely once the old man stepped down. In the blink of an eye, another five years had passed.
"Transfiguration, Potions—only students with O's in both those O.W.L.s may take this class," Hodge continued. "It is offered exclusively at N.E.W.T. level, so my earlier remark was not entirely a joke."
"Alchemy concerns itself primarily with the transformation of matter. That said, if any of you believe alchemy is simply means melting gold until it multiplies, I shall be genuinely heartbroken." Smiles flickered across the room. "This subject weaves together subtle flows of magic with materials science, potion-making, transfiguration, and certain advanced compound enchantment inscriptions. It even touches on archaeology, semiotics, and ancient runes. If you wish to excel, two certificates will not be nearly enough. You are about to step into unfamiliar territory where the old boundaries between disciplines no longer apply."
"For our very first lesson, I recommend you set yourselves a goal. Ask what you hope to achieve through alchemy. Turning lead into gold, perhaps? Or brewing potions that restore health—or extend—life? Or…" He allowed himself a sly grin. "…perhaps even touching the soul itself?"
Several students swallowed audibly.
"Of course," Hodge added lightly, "those aims are so lofty that even the world's foremost alchemical research institutes haven't found the door yet. So let us speak of more practical matters: material transmutation, alchemical weaponry, alchemical constructs.
"You will learn to create new materials that can be marketed across every trade. You may collaborate with the Ministry to produce objects that defend against curses and Dark magic. The possibilities extend from curious little gadgets to grand devices that fulfill mankind's oldest dreams—observatories, moon-landings… the Muggles, I'm afraid, have already beaten us to the latter. There are also rumors that Gringotts recently unearthed an ancient tomb containing magical automatons. The surviving records suggest their creation was… unpleasantly bloody. Fortunately, we can substitute memory-based charms for the animating logic instead. All of this—and much more—I intend to teach you, provided you can keep up."
Faces flushed crimson with excitement, as though the secrets of the universe were about to be handed to them on a silver platter.
"Very well. Close your textbooks. Today is a practical lesson."
The students exchanged thrilled glances. Few subjects began with hands-on work from the very first class, and the absence of dense theory felt like a gift.
"I spent all that time explaining how alchemy hybridizes many disciplines," Hodge said as he led them out of the usual classroom and into what had once been a disused room. He had transformed it: long narrow benches now lined the walls, laden with bottles, jars, and gleaming instruments.
"I neglected to mention one crucial ingredient: Muggle knowledge. They have a field startlingly similar to one branch of alchemy. They call it chemistry."
He gestured, and the class gathered around the benches.
"You are about to witness several experiments that demonstrate the transformation of matter—without a single spell. Afterward, I will repeat them using magic and show you how Muggle theory can dramatically simplify certain alchemical processes. That is today's warning: never be blinkered."
(The reverse is also true—magic can simplify chemistry, sometimes to the point of making catalysts entirely unnecessary.)
And so, on the very first Alchemy lesson of the year, the N.E.W.T. students watched in open-mouthed wonder as their professor demonstrated electroplating, flame tests, the production of oxygen from a sinister purple-black powder (potassium permanganate), the miraculous changing of solution colours, and—most dramatic of all—passed an electric current through water until it split into two entirely different gases.
"Bang!"
Hodge gathered the collected hydrogen into a balloon, touched his wand to it, and ignited it. A roaring gust and a shockwave knocked half the class off balance, but their eyes shone brighter than Fiendfyre.
"Now it's your turn," he said cheerfully, flicking his wand so that neat instructions appeared on the blackboard. "When you're finished, I'll show you how to replace certain steps with very basic alchemical charms. By Hallowe'en I expect every one of you to be able to perform these reactions anywhere, anytime, using only magic. Off you go."
The bell rang. Students poured out, chattering wildly.
"Did you see? I managed to silver-plate a copper Knut!"
"Don't forget Professor Blackthorn wants patterns on the plating."
"That's next week, though?"
"Then maybe I should practice my Transfiguration…"
Meanwhile, Hodge repaired the shattered glassware with a lazy Reparo, vanished the spent chemicals, and allowed himself a satisfied smile. He always put extra effort into the first lesson of term, and this one had gone splendidly.
He ran through his mental checklist: collect the medal from the Cairo International Alchemical Conference, meet Minister for Magic Amelia Bones, final tests on the third-generation magical deep-space probe… oh, and Terry had just returned from abroad with a new travelogue on Africa. Hodge wondered whether it mentioned witch-doctors or the Romani—rumour had it that Romani wizards possessed a form of Apparition tied to wind and nature, a magic that could draw fortune or lay curses…
Buzzzz—
A sudden pulse of magic jolted him out of his thoughts. He snapped his gaze to the window—not the grounds immediately outside, but far, far beyond. In an instant his senses leapt across continents and oceans until they locked onto an immense, almost… holy magical signature.
At the same moment, in the strange sight that pierced beyond the veil of the ordinary world, he saw a vision:
St. Paul's Cathedral!