"Albus—"
Professor McGonagall strode into the headmaster's office, only to find an uninvited guest was already there.
Professor Tayra's silver hair and Dumbledore's white beard made bright strokes of white against the ancient stone walls.
"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore—so long, in fact, I've nearly forgotten how long…"
Professor Tayra sipped her tea; with a lift of her fingers, the steam veiling her view coiled into thin mist and drifted out the window.
"Back then they called me Uagadou's youngest alchemical scholar. I wore that honor like a crown—and in doing so missed many truly great alchemists.
Not meeting them is the regret of my life. You know, some lives are fated to be brilliant and brief.
So my student—he must not miss his moment."
Dumbledore narrowed his eyes, the way he did when listening to an old friend ramble.
In truth, their acquaintance dated back to the last International Alchemy Congress—seventy years ago—when Dumbledore attended as Nicolas Flamel's friend and Tayra was a wide-eyed girl.
Since Tayra had joined Hogwarts' staff, disappointment had been her usual register; she was hardly ever this talkative. Which piqued Dumbledore's interest—
especially since someone out in the corridor was quietly eavesdropping.
"Olivia, the last time we met you were lamenting how today's students aren't what they used to be…"
Dumbledore interlaced his fingers, teasing plain on his face.
"An alchemist will meet a few excellent youngsters in a lifetime…
Headmaster, when I met him, I knew—seventy years had been worth it.
Like the angel with a book in Flamel's dream, I've read the Book of Abraham the Jew of our era."
Tayra ignored the tease and spoke with gravity.
"Do go on, Olivia. I'm very curious about this soon-to-rise master."
Dumbledore lifted a hand lightly; behind the half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes held thought—and mischief.
"Albus—"
McGonagall swept in, expressionless.
"Professor Tayra."
"Professor McGonagall," Tayra returned pleasantly.
"I'm sincerely grateful—only Professor Minerva McGonagall's work in Transfiguration made this breakthrough in alchemy possible."
Tayra's tone was even, but it did ripple.
McGonagall's face, however, did not improve.
This Professor Tayra… was that a shade of… provocation?
"I will bring him to this year's International Alchemy Congress…
He ought to speak with the greatest alchemists—
the Egyptian master of Floo Powder; the head of Beauxbatons who keeps the craft of two-way mirrors and Vanishing Cabinets; the Uagadou clan who make Remembralls and magical portraits…
And then—he'll herald an era."
It sounded as if Tayra were proclaiming something momentous.
McGonagall's mouth tightened to a furious line; she could feel the needling.
To think a gaggle of rune-muttering gold-spinners would try to steal away a once-in-centuries Transfiguration talent.
"With respect, Professor Tayra, perhaps he should first delve deeper into the theory of magical-creature Transfiguration."
McGonagall's challenge landed the instant Tayra finished.
Tayra sensed it too; they locked eyes—Dumbledore's beard trembled with silent laughter.
…
The conversation began quickly and ended just as fast.
"Student" had little force against the "Guardian" title Dumbledore casually let drop.
Tayra stepped out of the office swallowing her anger. Right under her nose, that wretched ceremony had been performed—and she'd known nothing!
Inside, Dumbledore regarded the softly "purring" cookie with interest.
"Minerva, you understand this is the fruit of alchemy. He should keep learning until he truly comprehends those enigmatic rites—and applies them to Transfiguration."
The words snapped McGonagall out of worry; she pressed her lips together. For a moment, she'd felt she'd lost her usual calm and grace.
"Love and reason do not coexist, do they?"
Dumbledore squinted, tapping a finger on the desk.
"Olivia won't mind… but I hope you know, Minerva—what's wrong with being a bit clumsy about it?"
His deep gaze drifted to the window. When reason holds sway, love is what cries out.
…
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Sean stood beside the pumpkin patch. Ever since the magical-creature cookie appeared, he'd been studying how Transfiguration could be harnessed within it.
Two hard problems lay before him.
First: alchemy uses ancient runes—yet those rune-forms don't map to modern Transfiguration at all.
Sean suspected the ancients once did have incantations and wand motions for Transfiguration—"Piertotum Locomotor" is a complete spoken spell, after all.
If a wizard was to truly transform into a magical creature at will, he would have to learn a rune-based Transfiguration.
Second: the force of ritual magic dwarfs a lone wizard's spellcasting.
Skele-Gro, a potion-rite, can regrow bones—something healing charms rarely achieve.
Felix Felicis—Sean had never heard of a charm that changes luck.
Another long road of exploration was set.
Fortunately, Sean had patience—and time.
"Quick, in with you, Sean—careful now, if Professor McGonagall finds us…"
Since being spotted by Harry and friends last time, Hagrid had grown much more cautious.
Tila the Bowtruckle popped from Sean's pocket instantly; the castle was too noisy for its liking and it rarely showed its face.
Sean flicked his wand; in three seconds his book became a tiny log-hollow of a nest. He tipped in a few little beetles.
Tila climbed along his finger into its house.
[You gained Magical Creature Affinity: Bowtruckle (Tila) at Adept standard, Proficiency +10]
[Bowtruckle Tila: Friendly (Adept) (9/900)]
Seeing the affinity hit Adept, Sean knew it was time to put the Bowtruckle cookie on the schedule.
But first, he would unlock the Entry title for Magical Creatures.
"Come on then, Sean—"
And the big-hearted Hagrid and the quiet Sean set off into the Forest together.
~~~
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