The slate was icy the instant it touched his hand. In less than two seconds, Sean felt the scene before his eyes twist.
He guessed at once—this must be Apparition.
"Please take your seat."
A familiar voice reached him as the dizziness faded and the space came into focus.
It was vast and magnificent. All around stood stone walls as deep and luminous as a river of stars.
Ahead, a single shattered mirror had split into twenty-four facets, the largest nearly five meters tall.
A house-elf bowed and held the posture at Sean's feet. He followed its gesture to a cluster of twenty-four chairs. Each chair appeared to occupy its own pocket of space. The chairs seemed strangely small, and a suspicion rose in him.
He stepped forward; the suspicion was confirmed.
Space-expansion charms.
It wasn't just a chair's worth of room—it was nearly as generous as a cozy alchemy office. The central table was laid with delicate dishes; the hearth blazed fiercely, warm without stifling; and right beside the seat stood a full alchemical workbench, a dozen different engraving knives lined up.
There was even a bed.
Were they planning to nap mid-session?
Wizards, he decided, were far too casual.
"If you would, please wait until the congress begins before resting."
Noticing Sean's lingering gaze on the bed, the house-elf at his side spoke in a tiny, ingratiating whisper.
Someone actually sleeps here…?
He really did not know enough about wizards.
But—after the congress began?
Sensing his confusion, the elf continued, "When the congress starts, the multi-mirror will set the sequence and project your state. The elder above the seventh seat—'Miracle'—is resting, the elder above that is dining, and the next elder and another are—have begun a—"
A squeak; the elf clapped its mouth shut and trembled into silence.
Behind it, the huge mirror surface rippled, and soon many figures appeared upon it.
Sean saw the long-bearded Dumbledore, McGonagall's impassive face, Tayra's cold set jaw, and—nearly Hagrid's height—a powerful witch who somehow looked both elegant and strong.
In the largest, uppermost facet, there was an aged sorcerer, frail of frame but bright-eyed.
Sean stared, a little dazed. To project images on the mirror for discourse—this felt like an advanced twin-mirror.
A many-linked mirror, connecting numerous wizards—no wonder it was called the Multi-Mirror.
"Nicolas Flamel."
A voice announced. Sean couldn't see who presided, but Flamel nodded. The hall burst into applause. Caught off guard, Sean hastened to clap along.
Suddenly he noticed an amusing paradox: if Flamel, like them, faced a mirror, then his nod was aimed at their reflections; and since he too appeared within the mirror, everyone's viewpoint showed him nodding at all present.
"Discoverer of the Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood, gold-laureate, partner of Nicolas Flamel—Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."
Dumbledore smiled benignly and applauded. The hall's clapping swelled louder.
"The youngest participant in the history of the International Alchemy Congress, admitted under the triple guarantee of Flora Olivia Tayra, Albus Dumbledore, and Olympe Maxime—Sean Green."
The host's tone wavered slightly. A very young face appeared in the central pane, pale green eyes deep and steady. He made no movement at all until the image faded from the mirror.
Silence. Then a susurrus of whispers.
"Tayra—after so many years, she found a student? Hmph—so that pride, very like Tayra—"
"So this is the reason she wrote to me for the first time in a decade? Disappointing. I had hoped she'd never find one, not to the end…"
"Well, give Tayra the benefit—at that age, to glean anything at all is not bad."
Only then did Sean register what had happened. For the first time in a long while, regret flickered through him.
He hadn't expected to be called up so early. He hadn't even heard his professors' names yet…
Flamel nodding. Dumbledore applauding…
The roll call passed quickly; the elf had said the point was to keep haughty alchemists from forgetting even each other's names once debate began.
Wizards rose from their seats; the house-elf snapped its fingers, and they vanished.
"Come, my lofty student."
Tayra walked over with a smile. Under many curious gazes, she took Sean's hand openly, making no secret of her confidence in him.
"Tayra, is this farce why you wrote to me? You and I both know that honors matter—but at this congress, they matter least."
A tall, elder witch with dusky skin sighed, clearly resigned. A second witch of similar complexion stood at her shoulder.
"In youth it is no sin to prize glory, but to force a hollow honor—do mind the name you'll leave behind. We old ones understand you, but we won't live long…"
A white-haired wizard added gently.
"Truth has no leisure for such things," Tayra answered, calm as ever.
Her old friends—those she'd warned by post—wore the same faces: Blast it, she hasn't changed at all. We knew it.
"Nothing more to say."
The white-haired wizard snapped his fingers and vanished with his student.
"I look forward to speaking with this little one."
The dusky witch, eyes keen, gave Sean a curious glance and likewise disappeared.
"Admission. Inheritance. Presentation of your future—that is the order of the congress, my student. Have you got it?"
Tayra asked.
She saw him sink into thought; then she too snapped her fingers, and the great hall blinked out.
More precisely, they Apparated again.
Darkness surrounded them. Ahead, a vast tree was carved into the rock. The trunk and a ring of hollows at its roots shone softly, and ancient runes ran along the stone:
"Four worlds turn in succession; the Fifth Element reveals itself."