Professor Babbling disappeared outside the Ancient Magic classroom, her resentment almost visible in the air.
By now, Sean had more or less confirmed that the professor of Ancient Magic was not a human wizard—but what exactly was she? He still had no clue. She clearly wasn't a ghost, yet she was even more elusive than one, and she was intelligent enough to hold a teaching post at Hogwarts. There weren't many non-human creatures that fit those criteria.
What's more, it seemed that Professor Babbling was native to Britain, which narrowed the possibilities even further.
Of course, if Sean had time to spare, he wouldn't have minded spending it digging into her true race and origin—but right now, he had three difficult papers hanging over his head, plus all his regular studies to keep up with. If he didn't have a troll's endurance and a good stock of restorative potions, he would have collapsed from exhaustion long ago. So naturally, investigating Professor Babbling's true nature wasn't at the top of his list.
Gathering up his things, Sean stepped out of the Ancient Magic classroom.
Thanks to Professor Babbling's teaching—and his own relentless questions—Sean now had a basic grasp of ancient magic runes and a clearer understanding of ancient magic as a whole. In simple terms, he could think of it like programming: each ancient rune was a letter or symbol, and they combined in layers—level one runes, level two, level three, and so on—until the desired effect was achieved. That was the core mechanism of ancient magic.
Alchemy often had deep ties to ancient runes, too. The decline of ancient magic runes had been one of the major reasons for the decline of alchemy. Of course, modern magic wasn't necessarily inferior to the old ways. Nicolas Flamel's re-creation of the Philosopher's Stone was proof that modern alchemy had forged a path as powerful as ancient methods—perhaps even more so.
This clash between ancient and modern approaches was exactly what Antonius and Nicolas Flamel were discussing.
So far, the two masters had exchanged three letters through Sean and Dumbledore. Apart from the first introduction, the second and third letters contained pages of their insights, questions, and debates about alchemy—profound ideas that stretched even Sean's imagination. For Nicolas Flamel, it had only taken those two letters to confirm that the one writing to him truly was Antonius Hopkins—if not in name, then in unmatched knowledge. After all, knowledge could not be faked. Even if someone were pretending to be Antonius, anyone capable of writing at that level deserved to be him.
Sean and Dumbledore, who acted as the go-betweens, both read the letters. Sean didn't have much to add—Antonius and Nicolas Flamel's fierce exchange of ideas was well beyond him for now. Dumbledore understood most of it, but even he had questions here and there. He might be the greatest wizard alive, but he wasn't the greatest alchemist.
Sean had once asked Antonius why he didn't just reach out to Nicolas Flamel directly. Antonius had only smiled and explained that he didn't want anyone to know he existed as a ghost in Hogwarts—and Flamel certainly didn't want to reveal his hidden address to anyone, either. Communicating through Sean and Dumbledore was, in fact, ideal. Far from seeing the extra step as a burden, both masters seemed to think it was a good thing to have witnesses to their legendary conversation.
Christmas.
When Sean woke up that morning, he found a pile of gifts waiting outside his door. Compared to last year's meager showing, there were clearly a lot more this year—and some of them were from people he didn't even know. It wasn't until he opened a letter that he realized the gifts had been forwarded by the editorial department of The Golden Crucible. These were presents sent by readers who'd read his paper.
Despite the magazine's promise that everything had been checked, Sean still carefully examined each gift himself before opening it. When he was sure there was nothing dangerous hidden inside, he finally relaxed and unwrapped them.
They were all respectable gifts—nothing offensive or inappropriate, but nothing especially surprising either. Still, Sean was satisfied enough. After all, free things were free things.
In addition to his family and Aldridge, Sean had also sent gifts to Blaise, Jason, Andy, and a few others. Likewise, some of the presents he'd received this morning came from them—practical things that Sean could actually use.
After carefully putting everything away, Sean turned to Kulkan and said, "I'm going to start the plan tonight."
At this, Kulkan immediately raised his head. "You're doing it yourself?"
Sean shot him a sideways glance and said with open disdain, "What, you think I should keep counting on a certain 'brilliant helper' who's been out on missions half a dozen times and come back empty every single time?"
Kulkan curled his tail defensively. "You know perfectly well I'm just a poor, weak little snake. That mouse never leaves the Gryffindor common room and sticks to that red-haired Ron like glue. I haven't had a single chance!"
"Right, right," Sean sighed, rolling his eyes. "You always have an excuse ready. Fine. I'll handle it myself this time. All you need to do is follow him when the time comes. That's still within your mighty abilities, right?"
Kulkan straightened up dramatically, flicked his tail into a salute, and said with great dignity, "Trust me. This time, there's no problem. It'll be done!"
Sean looked him up and down with exaggerated skepticism. "Honestly, I should've just done it myself from the start. It would've saved me so much trouble."
At that, Kulkan's scales practically bristled in offense. He slapped his tail against the bed for emphasis. "I told you, everything's under control! Don't look at me with that face!"
"What face?" Sean said flatly. "The face that says 'I don't trust you at all?' That face?"
"Sean! I swear—I'm going to fight you!"
Before Kulkan could coil around Sean's neck again in mock outrage, a knock came at the door. Sean casually plucked the little snake off his shoulder—despite Kulkan trying to headbutt his cheek in protest—and dropped him gently onto the bed.
Kulkan glared back at him, scales puffed up, but Sean only chuckled as he opened the door to find Blaise, Jason, and Andy standing outside.
"All right, I'm ready," Sean said, brushing off his sleeves. "Let's head to the Great Hall."
Blaise glanced past him, eyeing Kulkan still coiled up and bristling on the bed. "Sean, why do I feel like Kulkan's furious about something?"
Sean cracked a grin. "You're not wrong. She's pissed at me."