Chapter 451: The Emerald Workshop
Being able to chat face-to-face with friends through a smooth mirror surface was an exceptionally amusing experience. The young wizards were shouting and calling out in excitement; through these mirrors, they could even glimpse one another's surroundings.
Hermione was in a room piled high with bookshelves, Neville was beside some brown furniture and a roaring fireplace, and Justin was in a garden. The Magic Hand Mirrors emitted a soft, fluorescent glow, and the rippling mirror surfaces made every face appear vivid and endearing.
Sean tapped the glass with his index finger, and his own face vanished, replaced by a miniature version of himself setting down a book, indicating he was still listening.
This was the second feature of the Magic Hand Mirrors: when wizards did not need face-to-face contact, the device could transmit voice alone. More interestingly, the mechanism for this sound transmission originated from a rare and peculiar magical artifact—the Goblin-made Omnioculars.
When Will had first handed Sean a pair of Omnioculars aboard the fire-dragon carriage, Sean was astonished to discover that they could pick up spoken conversations. It was the first time he realized that a Summoning Charm could be applied to sound itself... to summon sound was truly magical. Thus, the Magic Hand Mirrors incorporated a sound-focusing function, allowing them to isolate the voices of two conversing wizards or, conversely, to dampen all ambient noise—effectively a "noise-cancellation mode."
Sean tucked away the Magic Hand Mirror, listening to the lively chatter of his friends while he made his way toward the Alchemy office.
"Oh, Sean is being silent again. He prepares such big surprises, yet refuses to say a word about them. Sometimes I feel like he's preparing a surprise, and other times it's a total fright," Hermione's voice floated from the mirror.
"Although I can't see, I bet Sean is listening in quietly," Justin chimed in.
"I couldn't agree more. Maybe he's even watching," Ron added.
"He's definitely 'lurking,'" Hermione concluded.
"Sean?" Harry whispered tentatively.
Sean took one last look at the mirror, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at being found out, and turned into the Alchemy office. Inside, various ancient instruments were clicking in unison—wooden ones, iron ones, devices that constantly scurried about, others suspended from the ceiling, some floating, and one shaped like a fire dragon... Professor Terra's office was always filled with magical ingenuity.
"Let's go, my dear student." Professor Terra looked travel-worn, the silver tips of her hair still damp with morning dew.
They stepped out and walked silently toward the office in the North Tower, near the Gryffindor common room. It was a place teeming with transport nodes similar to those in the Ministry of Magic, boasting at least five fireplaces connected to the Floo Network, all burning with green flames.
The door clicked open. Sean observed the walls and ceiling; they were built of rough, circular stones. Underneath an exquisitely carved fireplace mantel directly ahead, a fire crackled, illuminating Professor Terra's joyous face:
"Come, my student. You remember the trick to using Floo Powder, don't you? Don't mispronounce it. It's 'Emerald Workshop'—"
With that, the Professor grabbed Sean, strode to the hearth, took a handful of shimmering powder from a jar on the mantelpiece, and cast it into the flames. The green fire quickly swallowed them whole.
The Emerald Workshop.
This village-sized area was Professor Terra's personal alchemy lab, hidden behind a brick wall in a dilapidated London alleyway. Occasionally, the workshop welcomed guests, but for the most part, it was a goldmine for wizarding merchants.
Flora Olivia Terra, the greatest mind after Nicolas Flamel, never produced inferior magical artifacts. To the merchants of the wizarding world, this meant that partnering with her was a guaranteed profit—the only question was just how much they would earn. Consequently, many merchants frequently visited to curry favor. Among them were descendants of ancient wizarding families, students Terra had mentored over the decades, and procurement officers working for various magical governments.
Of these, Professor Terra's students were the most frequent visitors. After all, these young wizards all harbored a deeply buried ambition: Flora Olivia Terra, their dear teacher, had no official apprentice.
"And you are? Another student of my aunt's? Fine, no matter. Come with me."
Upon stepping out of the fireplace, the first thing Sean saw was an inconspicuous, verdigris-covered black iron door. Standing beside it was a bright-eyed witch, perhaps twenty years old.
"Yes," Sean said. He glanced sideways and saw a line of Runes carved onto the door:
[When we speak openly, we say nothing at all. But when we write, truth is hidden in every word.]
The sentiment perfectly matched Sean's impression of alchemy. For centuries, alchemist manuscripts had been saturated with symbols and codes to prevent the ill-intentioned from gleaning their secrets.
"What's your name?" the young witch asked. She looked lively and spirited.
"Sean Green," Sean replied, bowing slightly, just as she had. He looked around, but Professor Terra was nowhere to be seen, which was quite strange, considering they had entered the fireplace together.
"I haven't seen a wizard as young as you before. I hear there were wizard-merchants your age in England a few decades ago. My aunt helped them with a few things; some of them were quite exceptional." The witch with crimson hair smiled, crouching down to be eye-level with Sean.
A few decades ago... England... Sean couldn't help but think of the child laborers in London. Their lives could only be described as "hellish"—forced to work long hours in brutal conditions with no safety, their physical and mental health destroyed; most of them rarely lived to reach adulthood.
"I am not a merchant," Sean stated.
"Oh, right, so you're a student who hasn't yet become Professor Terra's official apprentice?" The crimson-haired witch giggled.
Sean sighed slightly, suspecting that Professor Terra was watching him from somewhere, deeply amused.
"Alright, come inside with me, future Alchemy Master." The young witch extended a slender arm and dropped a bead of pure mercury into the mouth of a stone Ouroboros on the door.
The gates groaned open. Before them lay a massive machine powered entirely by steam and magic, coughing out "huff-puff" clouds of smoke that drifted away in orderly lines toward the horizon.
"Aunt Terra's teacher once participated in the construction of the Hogwarts Express. In her generation, she continues to study the balance between steam and magic..." the young witch introduced with great enthusiasm. "Take a look at the back..."
Following her gaze, Sean saw a vast complex of buildings stretching out into the hidden corners of London.
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