Silver-gold alloy powder. The Undetectable Extension Charm. Alchemy.
He jotted the words down in his notebook, twirling his quill as he fell into deep thought.
Hogwarts offered Alchemy, but it was strictly an upper-year N.E.W.T. level subject.
He had no idea what the professor's temperament was like, or if they'd entertain a first-year biting off far more than he could chew.
The Undetectable Extension Charm was also highly advanced magic. A trip to the library was definitely in order.
Then came the raw materials. A silver-gold alloy powder? That was going to utterly bankrupt him.
High-tier magical portraits possessed singularity, allowing them to bypass physical geography to travel instantly. But right now, he simply couldn't afford the exorbitant costs of commissioning one.
After a moment of thought, he circled 'Alchemy' and 'Undetectable Extension Charm'. Those were his absolute highest priorities.
Dinner was still a ways off. Striking while the iron was hot was the best move.
Charlie wasn't the type to put things off until tomorrow. Time was his most valuable asset.
He stood up, snapped his notebook shut, and walked out into the common room.
Roger wasn't around, nor were the two familiar prefects.
He did, however, spot the two upperclassmen he'd overheard stressing about their N.E.W.T.s a few mornings ago.
They seemed to be joined at the hip, always appearing together.
"Afternoon, gents," Charlie greeted them.
"Afternoon, mate. Oh, it's you. Need something?" They looked slightly surprised that he had initiated the conversation.
"I wanted to ask about the Alchemy elective. Do you happen to know who teaches it, or where their office is?"
"Alchemy? That's a properly niche question. Let me think... is it Professor Barnes? Or Burns?"
"It's Chambers, you absolute idiot," the other boy sighed, sounding completely exasperated.
"Right, Samuel Chambers." The first boy tapped his head before quickly defending himself. "You can't blame me. The bloke doesn't even show up to the Start-of-Term Feast. You barely ever see him walking around the castle."
He paused to think. "As for his office... we honestly have no idea."
"His class is incredibly obscure, mate. I highly doubt there are even ten people in the seventh-year Alchemy class."
"If there are five, I'd call it a massive success," the second boy shook his head. "If I remember correctly, his office is on the fourth floor. Left side of the corridor."
"Just make sure you don't wander off to the right side, or go walking in circles—unless you wish to die a very painful death," the first boy added, doing a surprisingly decent impression of Dumbledore.
"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, lads." Charlie nodded and bid them farewell.
Leaving Ravenclaw Tower, he quickly made his way down to the fourth floor.
The weather was steadily dropping. Charlie reckoned it would be snowing by November.
Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he began walking down the fourth-floor corridor.
Compared to the lower floors and the bustling dungeons, the fourth floor felt eerily deserted.
It was easy to see why Dumbledore had chosen to hide a massive, three-headed dog up here.
Then again, was the three-headed dog really that much of a secret? Charlie wondered.
Hogwarts was crawling with mischievous, adrenaline-junkie students. Had none of them ever dared each other to explore the forbidden corridor? It seemed highly unlikely.
The floor was lined with empty classrooms. Charlie had to physically push a few doors open just to check if they were offices or abandoned rooms.
After quietly closing the fourth door—which turned out to be a dusty broom cupboard—he stepped up to the fifth.
Just as he raised his fist to knock, the heavy brass knocker, shaped like an owl, suddenly spoke.
"Little wizard, little wizard.
"Be on your way. This is a professor's private office. If you are seeking a quiet place to play your games, look elsewhere."
Charlie stared at the incredibly lifelike owl knocker.
"Is this the office of Professor Samuel Chambers, the Alchemy teacher?"
"It is," the owl nodded stiffly.
"Brilliant. Professor Chambers is exactly who I'm looking for."
The brass owl nodded again. It caught the heavy knocker ring in its beak and rapped it sharply against the wood twice.
"Come in." The voice from inside was flat and even, but carried clearly through the thick oak.
"Alright, in you go," the owl said.
Charlie pushed the heavy door open and stepped inside.
It was a massive room with ceilings stretching at least fifteen feet high. Directly opposite the door sat a wide, imposing desk, accompanied by a high-backed chair. Behind the chair was a single, toweringly tall, narrow window.
The desk, the chair, and the window were all perfectly, mathematically centered.
The desktop itself was obsessively symmetrical. If a quill sat on the left, a picture frame sat in the exact same spot on the right. If a neat stack of parchment sat on the left, a delicate tea set perfectly mirrored it on the right.
The left wall was lined with two identical, heavy wooden cabinets. The right wall was dominated by a long, cluttered workbench.
The walls were adorned with a chaotic assortment of bizarre items: unidentified animal skulls, gnarled branches, shriveled magical fruits, chunks of raw metal, carving knives, paintbrushes, and pots of pigment.
Clearly, the workbench was where the actual magic happened.
At that moment, a man was hunched over the workbench.
He wore plain grey robes. His curly brown hair hung to his shoulders, slicked neatly back to keep it out of his face. He looked intensely, severely focused.
"Wait a moment," he said. No greeting, no pleasantries.
"Of course, Professor."
Charlie stood near the doorway, making sure not to wander or touch anything.
The professor's rigid intensity practically screamed that any sudden noise would be considered a grievous offense.
About thirty seconds later, the man finally set down the object he was working on. It looked like a small coin purse.
He stood up, turned around, and looked Charlie up and down. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"A first-year? What are you doing in here? Did your parents send you?"
"My parents? No, sir. I'm just a student with a genuine curiosity for Alchemy."
Professor Chambers looked even more shocked. He raised his hands, gently tucking a stray curl behind his ear, before walking over and taking a seat behind his perfectly symmetrical desk.
"My apologies. Occasionally, students' parents attempt to commission custom alchemical artifacts from me."
He gestured toward the chair opposite him. "Take a seat."
Charlie sat down. A moment later, Professor Chambers lightly tapped two fingers against the desktop.
The porcelain teapot instantly sprang to life, sprouting two tiny, elegant porcelain legs from its base. The two teacups followed suit, waddling clumsily across the desk until one stood in front of the professor and the other in front of Charlie.
"How many sugars?" Chambers asked.
The teapot suddenly grew two spindly little arms. It grabbed a pair of silver tongs in one hand and a sugar bowl in the other.
It waddled over to Charlie, bowed deeply at the waist, and poured a stream of crystal-clear amber tea into his cup.
"Just one, please. Thank you."
The teapot seemingly understood him. It delicately plucked a single sugar cube with the tongs and dropped it into his tea.
"You are the very first student to seek me out purely for Alchemy in two years. I assume you are a Ravenclaw."
"I am, Professor," Charlie nodded.
"Alchemy is a profoundly complex discipline. It heavily involves Charms, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes.
"It also requires a deep understanding of magical materials, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures." Chambers eyed him critically. "What year are you?"
"First year, sir. Just started."
This time, Chambers genuinely frowned. "First year? While I commend your curiosity, I'm afraid Alchemy is entirely out of your depth."
"Even a foundational understanding would be incredibly helpful, Professor," Charlie replied smoothly, not losing his cool. He remained completely polite and utterly determined.
"Might I ask what exactly drove you to seek out Alchemy in the first place?"
"I want to craft magical sweets. Something similar to Chocolate Frogs."
"Chocolate Frogs have absolutely nothing to do with Alchemy," Professor Chambers stated flatly.
"The company utilizes a highly specialized potion. Once sprayed onto the chocolate, it simulates the illusion of life.
"Are you familiar with developing potion? The liquid sprayed onto wizarding photographs to make the subjects move?
"Their formula is highly derivative of that concept. It's their most tightly guarded corporate secret, and it's the sole reason they've managed to rake in millions of Galleons."
Charlie was genuinely surprised. He hadn't actually known that. Then again, why would he? It was an industry secret.
He nodded slowly. "Professor, my ambitions go far beyond simple movement.
"I want to craft a chocolate that makes the eater physically float. I want to brew gummies that plunge the mind into a perfect, euphoric dream state. I want hard candies that can heal severe physical trauma.
"That is my dream, Professor. And to achieve it, I absolutely must learn Alchemy.
"If I had to narrow my focus, I would want to start by learning how to permanently bind a spell to an inanimate object. To physically inscribe or anchor the magic, so to speak."
Professor Chambers nodded very slowly. After a long moment of heavy silence, he simply said, "Drink your tea. It's an excellent blend."
Charlie blinked, slightly thrown by the sudden pivot, but quickly picked up his cup.
The first sip was sharply bitter, followed instantly by the mellow, soothing sweetness of the sugar cube.
"What you are describing is, indeed, foundational Alchemy," Chambers finally said. "If you are genuinely serious about this, go to the library. Find a book titled My Alchemy Era, and another called Alchemy for Beginners.
"The former is an autobiography written by a Master Alchemist a century ago. It deeply details the trials, errors, and philosophies he encountered during his studies.
"The latter, as the name suggests, is a beginner's textbook.
"They are best digested together.
"Furthermore—and forgive my bluntness—I have no idea if you actually know how to 'read.' If you lack that specific skill, I suggest starting solely with the second book. At the very least, it's structured like a standard textbook."
"I'd like to think I know how, Professor," Charlie nodded.
Chambers offered no comment, though the blatant skepticism on his face spoke volumes.
In the magical world, true academic "reading" required intense discipline and critical analysis—it wasn't just sounding out big words.
Chambers exclusively taught sixth and seventh-year students. Recommending dense, theoretical texts to N.E.W.T. students was standard practice. This was the very first time he had ever recommended them to an eleven-year-old.
The professor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alchemy is incredibly dangerous. I must warn you: you had better stick strictly to chocolate.
"If you start experimenting blindly, it will result in every catastrophic failure imaginable.
"Explosions, violently rebounded hexes, severe magical mutations—everything you can picture, and worse."
Charlie considered this for a second. With a flick of his wrist, a piece of Moonlight Chocolate appeared in his hand.
"Professor, this is one of my crude prototypes. You are welcome to try it.
"Currently, my method consists entirely of violently brute-forcing raw magical ingredients into a chocolate base. I am thoroughly unsatisfied with the lack of precision. That is exactly why I sought you out."
"It appears you are a rather fanatic confectioner. I imagine Dumbledore would find you absolutely fascinating."
Chambers picked up the chocolate. It was wrapped in plain, greaseproof paper. He slowly peeled it back and popped the dark square into his mouth.
A second later, his eyes went wide. His brows crashed together in deep concentration as he analyzed the exact sensations flooding his palate.
Two full minutes later, he picked up his teacup and rinsed his mouth out.
"What exactly did you add to this? I distinctly sense the conceptual essence of the moon."
"It's a highly specialized, custom syrup I brewed, Professor."
"Fascinating," Chambers nodded slowly. "It seems you aren't just spouting absolute nonsense after all.
"Go on, then. If you run into any severe roadblocks, you may return here.
"Though, I expect the questions you ask to explicitly prove that you know how to read."
"I assure you they will, Professor," Charlie smiled.
He raised his teacup, drained the last of his tea, and stood up. "Until next time, sir."
"Until next time."
Chambers hadn't even bothered to ask for Charlie's name. But then again, he didn't really care yet.
Charlie was perfectly aware of that fact.
When an eleven-year-old first-year suddenly declares a burning passion for N.E.W.T. level Alchemy, the odds of it being a fleeting, three-minute obsession were incredibly high.
But Charlie was more than happy to use the coming weeks to prove he was entirely serious.
He needed to track down two specific books. He figured it was smartest to comb through the Ravenclaw common room first. That way, he'd only have to check out the second one from the library.
He spent thirty minutes scanning the chaotic piles of books scattered across the window sills, desks, and bookshelves. Finally, he spotted Alchemy for Beginners.
Compared to the tattered, ancient tomes littering the room, this book looked remarkably untouched. The pages were slightly yellowed, and opening it released a stale puff of dust. Clearly, no one had bothered to read it in years.
"Hey, Charlie. Just the bloke I was looking for. Heading down for dinner?" Anthony asked, popping out of nowhere.
"Yeah, just give me a second to run up to the dorm. I need to grab that weird portrait encyclopedia and return it to the library." Charlie nodded, tucking Alchemy for Beginners under his arm.
Books in hand, he hit the library first. He quickly returned the portrait encyclopedia and swapped it out for My Alchemy Era.
The autobiography was horrifyingly fragile. The second Charlie pulled it off the shelf, the brittle spine nearly snapped entirely.
Unlike the untouched beginner's guide in his common room, this text had clearly seen heavy use.
It seemed there was a dedicated, albeit tiny, demographic of readers. Most likely the handful of upperclassmen brave enough to take the Alchemy elective.
Professor Chambers undoubtedly assigned it as mandatory reading.
Madam Pince had glared at the crumbling book with extreme displeasure. "Good heavens, this text should have been submitted for Transcription ages ago. Mr. Wonka, are you absolutely certain you want to check this out?"
"What exactly is Transcription? And yes, ma'am, I definitely need it. Don't worry, I treat books with the utmost respect."
Madam Pince's sharp, unblinking glare made it abundantly clear she didn't believe him for a second.
Honestly, what is with everyone doubting every single word out of my mouth today? Charlie grumbled internally.
Whatever happened to basic human trust?!
"Transcription is the process by which Hogwarts actively duplicates deteriorating, ancient texts. The pristine copy is then circulated for student use, while the original is permanently retired to the restricted archives.
"You must understand, the Hogwarts library houses countless one-of-a-kind manuscripts. Some of these books and parchment scrolls are centuries old.
"We simply cannot allow the originals to be casually handled and destroyed."
"That makes perfect sense," Charlie nodded.
He pulled the book tightly against his chest, guarding it fiercely. "I promise I'll be incredibly careful with it, Madam Pince. You have my word."
"You had better be. The binding is practically hanging by a thread. When you return it, I expect the cover to still be attached to the spine."
Sitting at the Great Hall dinner table, Charlie was practically vibrating with anticipation.
If he hadn't sworn a blood oath to Madam Pince to keep the book safe, he would have cracked it open right over his plate.
He inhaled his dinner in record time, bid Anthony and Hector a hasty goodnight, and sprinted back to the Ravenclaw common room.
Without wasting a single second, he threw himself into reading My Alchemy Era.
He quickly checked the author's full name: Fabri Chambers.
Brilliant. It was literally written by Professor Chambers' ancestor.
The author spent the first two dense pages detailing his personal history and profound connection to Alchemy.
But starting on page three, he dove straight into his very first alchemical experiment.
"My first successful foray into the art was the creation of a [Material Vial].
"At the time, I was keeping a pet Murtlap. I desperately needed a way to safely store the strained essence I harvested from its tentacles, and standard glass phials were entirely insufficient for long-term preservation.
"I imagine this is the very first hurdle every aspiring Alchemist must overcome. Glass is not a universal solution. In the magical world, there are simply too many volatile substances that demand highly specialized containment.
"The variations of Material Vials are practically endless: [Cryo-Vials], [Stasis Vials], [Vacuum Vials], [Corrosive-Resistant Vials], [Isolation Vials]..."
Hiss... Charlie sucked in a sharp breath.
Professor Chambers had been absolutely spot on. This deeply personal, highly practical autobiography...
It was absolutely perfect for him.
Over the past few days, the glaring impossibility of physically storing his harvested 'autumn wind' had been driving him utterly mental.
But now, it seemed the perfect solution had just been dropped directly into his lap!