"Is that so, Ron? Oh... I see now," Kasenhis said, rubbing his chin with mock contemplation. "So Platform 9¾ suddenly closed for unknown reasons, and instead of, say, going back home and asking Mrs. Weasley for help, you two brilliant minds just went, 'Oh well, guess we'll hijack this poor little alchemical vehicle and fly ourselves to school.'"
He clapped his hands together twice as if applauding their phenomenal decision-making.
"A fantastic experience. A truly creative solution," Kasenhis said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "So Gryffindor loses seventy points."
After last year's shameless moment where Dumbledore opened his mouth and gifted Gryffindor an extra one hundred and fifty points at the last second, Kasenhis had long since stopped taking the point system seriously.
After all, with both Snape and Dumbledore constantly manipulating the scoreboard, Hogwarts' House Points were experiencing an inflation crisis.
A little personal touch here and there wouldn't make a difference.
"Ah.. I thought you would deduct 1000 points.. So, Professor... does that mean this is the end of it?" Harry asked, hopeful.
Kasenhis shook his head.
"Absolutely not. Professor McGonagall is definitely going to hear about this."
Completely ignoring their misery, Kasenhis casually climbed into the driver's seat of the beat-up little alchemical car.
"This was made by Mr. Weasley, I assume?"
"Yeah," Ron said, puffing his chest proudly.
"Not bad work," Kasenhis admitted. "Now I know where the Weasley twins got their alchemy talent from."
"But," Kasenhis continued, "Ron, where do you live?"
Ron blinked. "Uh... The Burrow, outside Ottery St. Catchpole, in Devon. Why?"
Kasenhis hummed, tapped the dashboard, made a few adjustments, and then casually stepped out of the vehicle.
Immediately, the car lifted into the air, slowly ascending before smoothly vanishing from sight.
It was flying itself back to the Burrow.
"Now, if you hurry back, you might just manage to fill your stomachs before Professor McGonagall finds you. But do eat quickly—her punishments won't wait forever..."
As the dejected young Gryffindors scurried back to the Great Hall, Kasenhis casually returned to the professor's table and, in the most nonchalant way possible, relayed the entire incident to Professor McGonagall.
McGonagall, meanwhile, had just been wondering why the House Point hourglasses were completely empty at the start of the term, yet somehow, Gryffindor's point counter had already gained a perfectly-sized gap—one just right for deducting seventy points.
She had assumed it was some kind of malfunction.
Turns out, some very special students had worked extra hard to provide an explanation.
With a stormy expression, McGonagall stormed off towards the Gryffindor table, ready to dispense justice.
Kasenhis, on the other hand, gracefully retreated to his office, carrying with him the glory of a job well done.
Now, it was time to prepare for his first third-year Alchemy lesson.
Compared to advanced transmutations or material synthesis, perhaps a simple puppet would be the perfect starting project.
Sure, it might still be a bit difficult for young third-years new to Alchemy, but if he could hook them with something fun, it would be worth it.
Kasenhis pulled out his Arcane Manual and flipped to the section on puppetry, carefully studying the details.
To be honest, this was very last-minute prep work.
Because, given the choice between crafting a semi-intelligent magical puppet to assist him with tasks or constructing a fully automated redstone-powered industrial machine, he definitely preferred the factory assembly line approach.
Redstone engineering supremacy, baby.
Standing behind the lecture podium, Kasenhis looked down at a sea of over forty eager young faces.
"…How many students are in all four houses this year?"
"And how many of you are here right now?"
Kasenhis nodded, tapping the gold-plated podium he'd salvaged from the original Alchemy classroom.
"Well, I appreciate your enthusiasm… but this time, there's no free gold."
The students groaned in disappointment, but their interest returned instantly as Kasenhis reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny, dark purple figure. Content orıginally comes from 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡•𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚•𝙣𝙚𝙩
It looked identical to the iron golems that guarded the castle, except this one was smaller and had a sleek new paint job.
"This little guy is far more intelligent than an iron golem. Those big brutes are combat puppets, and, well… making those requires talent—and a healthy amount of 'let-me-try-thinking-about-it' power.
"For you third-years, that would be way beyond your skill level."
A few students shifted uncomfortably at his words, while others nodded in agreement.
"So instead, I've brought you something much more practical and intelligent. Once you build this, you'll basically have your own low-powered house-elf."
"You can have it carry your books to class, fetch things for you, or even assist you with alchemy experiments."
Kasenhis twirled the tiny puppet between his fingers, watching as the students below leaned forward, eager to start.
Satisfied, he finally pulled out a shimmering cauldron.
"This is an alchemy crucible—not to be confused with Professor Snape's potion cauldrons. Entirely different purpose. But the way you use them is the same."
With a snap of his fingers, a dazzling burst of light illuminated every student's desk.
Then, with a lazy wave of his wand, forty-plus alchemy crucibles descended in an orderly line from upstairs, each one gently landing before its assigned student.
Time to get crafting!
"When you're in Potions class, has Professor Snape ever reminded you not to put any of the ingredients in your mouth?"
The students nodded in unison.
"Good. That saves me the trouble of warning you."
Kasenhis flicked his wand again, and a stream of tiny element-filled vials and purple metal blocks floated down from the upper floor, neatly landing on each student's desk.
"I can only say this—alchemy requires a certain level of 'let-me-try-thinking-about-it' power. So, try not to be too surprised by what happens next."
"First, grab the bucket next to your table and fill your alchemy crucible with water. Then, pick up that purple metal block—this is Mystic Metal, a brand-new material I've created through alchemy. It will be available in alchemy supply shops after my next paper gets published."
"And those little vials? Human, Motion, and Soul elements. Those will also be hitting the shelves when my paper drops. As for how these elements are extracted… well, let's just say you're not quite there yet in your studies."
The students exchanged excited glances as they followed his instructions, pouring various ingredients into the crucible just like they would in Potions class.
And then, as if the universe simply accepted their efforts, the cauldrons spat out fully-formed miniature puppets.
No one knew why it worked.
No one knew how it worked.
And honestly? That was just how alchemy functioned.
People knew the Philosopher's Stone could transmute objects into gold, but they had no idea why it could.
Since its earliest days, alchemy had been a deeply contradictory field—on one hand, if you carefully followed the steps, adding the right materials at the right time, or engraving precise runes, you could perfectly replicate past results.
But for generations, no one except Nicolas managed to create the Philosopher's Stone, no alchemist had truly grasped the underlying principles behind it.
Then again, magic itself was never about logic.
Compared to Charms and Curses, Alchemy and Potions were already shockingly scientific.
(≧∇≦)ﾉRead two weeks ahead of WN-