If the vastness of Transfiguration comes from generations of wizards exploring its depths, then the vastness of Alchemy surely stems from an endless stream of wild, creative ideas.
Take a Levitation Charm combined with a faint Legilimency spell, and you get a bestselling Quick-Quotes Quill that's been around for a century.
Pair a Duplication Charm with a Sustaining Charm, and you've got Everlasting Ink.
Even the Canary Creams used by the Weasley twins are just a clever application of Transfiguration—a complex spell triggered upon eating that transforms one living thing into another.
Of course, the twins didn't pull that off on their own. Professor Tyra "generously" helped them enchant the treats.
Sean couldn't help but wonder: if you can do that, why not go further?
Imagine Shark Bread that lets a wizard transform into a shark to swim freely in water. Or Eagle Biscuits that grant temporary flight.
Alchemy demands something special: wizards need to think outside the box, to be downright rebellious in their ideas. The challenge isn't in making it happen—it's in imagining it.
Take the Weasleys' Joke Shop and their Shield Hats. Were wizards really incapable of creating them?
They built the Knight Bus, for Merlin's sake—a summonable, stretchy, self-hiding, lightning-fast vehicle operated by a single wizard.
Well, "operated" might be generous. As the books described it:
The driver seemed less than skilled at steering, constantly veering onto the pavement, yet somehow hitting nothing. Lamp posts, mailboxes, and trash cans leapt out of the way as the bus barreled through, then snapped back into place once it passed.
So, with such advanced alchemical magic, how could they not create a Shield Hat?
If they were truly useless, the Ministry wouldn't have bought five hundred for their staff.
Fred and George even used that as a springboard to develop a whole line of protective gear—Shield Hats, Shield Gloves, you name it.
Maybe there were too few wizards diving deep into Alchemy. Or maybe most didn't care much for invention and creation. Or perhaps their imaginations were just… limited.
Whatever the reason, Alchemy was barely explored, yet it was woven into every corner of wizarding life.
Sean couldn't rein in the flood of ideas swirling in his mind. For days, he was completely absorbed in the twins' notes, which detailed the basic principles of Alchemy and how to invent small gadgets.
His first step? Crafting a proper Floating Quill. But he was also curious about the mysterious Professor Tyra, who only taught sixth- and seventh-year students.
More than that, though, he was fixated on the panel's requirements: Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration.
He understood how Charms and Transfiguration tied into Alchemy, but why Potions?
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November deepened alongside the cold, and snow began to drift around Hogwarts. Each morning blanketed the castle in a thin layer of white, with icy winds stinging hands and cheeks.
The sky—and the Great Hall's enchanted ceiling—sparkled with swirling snowflakes. The mountains around Hogwarts donned snowy caps, and the castle's temperature kept dropping. Sometimes, Sean had to layer two sweaters and carry the flame jar Hermione gave him—it worked like a magical hand warmer.
Since he was diving into Alchemy, Sean's routine became more predictable than ever, making it easy for the Weasley twins to track him down.
"The Great Green!" they'd shout, popping out from behind suits of armor, portraits, or even snowdrifts, before bolting away with a laugh.
Sean, too focused on his notes, would only notice them after they were gone.
"Isn't he a bit too focused lately?" Justin asked Hermione outside Hagrid's hut, his tone probing.
"I know he's always been intense, but this is something else," he added.
Hermione nodded, then glanced at Harry and Ron, who were sneaking around nearby, along with a taller Ravenclaw.
"Are we just gonna say it, Harry?" Ron whispered excitedly at a corridor corner, blowing on his exposed fingertips sticking out from his gloves.
"Did you see? Even Hermione cheered when you caught the Snitch!"
Harry looked shy but let a hint of agreement slip into his voice. "I think… Sean might let us join that group…"
As the two whispered, a tall Ravenclaw prefect appeared in front of Sean.
"I'm Prefect Penelope Clearwater, Mr. Sean Green," she said, introducing herself. "I'm here to fix a certain idiot's mistake."
She piqued his interest with that.
Behind her, a group of burly Ravenclaws lingered.
"Roger, off the Quidditch pitch, has your eagle eye turned into an owl's?" a dark-haired wizard teased.
Roger's face flushed. He wanted to retort but remembered his blunder and stayed quiet.
What had he done? Let a Quidditch prodigy like Sean slip through the cracks for so long! Surely, Sean had been waiting for an invitation to the Ravenclaw team ever since he aced his flying test. Who doesn't love Quidditch?
"Owls are eagles too, you little wizard! You foolish little wizard!"
A portrait of an owl clutching a parchment appeared on the wall, making the Ravenclaws shrink back.
"Mr. Owl, we weren't talking about you…" one of them said, clearly familiar with the portrait—and terrified of it.
"I'm not an eagle?!" the owl squawked, flapping its painted wings furiously.
Thinking fast, the dark-haired Ravenclaw tried to backtrack. "We meant you—"
"Are you saying I've got no vision?!"
The owl's glasses slid down its beak in outrage.
"No, not you—well, yes, but no…"
The more he stumbled, the worse it got, his face growing more desperate by the second.
Now it was Roger Davies' turn to smirk.
"Toyah, explain yourself properly, or you won't get through that door for a month—this castle was designed by Ravenclaws!" Roger teased.
"Shut up, Davies! Help me out!" Toyah snapped, sweating despite the cold.
"If I can't get in, you're not sleeping either! I'll bang on that door all night!"
The surrounding Ravenclaws burst into laughter, some doubling over, filling the air with cheerful chaos.
But ahead of them, the conversation wasn't going quite so smoothly.
Prefect Penelope frowned, trying to keep her tone gentle.