Being able to chat face-to-face with friends in a smooth mirror was extraordinarily fun.
The young wizards were shouting with excitement; through this mirror, they could also see each other's surroundings.
For example, Hermione was in a room piled high with all sorts of bookshelves, Neville was beside some brown furniture and a burning fireplace, and Justin was in a garden.
The Magic Hand Mirrors emitted a faint glow, and ripples appeared on their surfaces, making every face look vivid and endearing.
Sean tapped the mirror surface with his index finger, and his face disappeared from the mirror.
Only a small Sean putting down a book remained, indicating he was still listening.
This was the second function of the Magic Hand Mirror: when wizards didn't need to be face-to-face, it could transmit just voice.
Even more interesting was that its voice transmission mechanism came from a special magical object, a rare type of magical object.
—Goblin-made magical objects: Binoculars.
When Will handed Sean the binoculars on the dragon carriage, he was surprised to find that this type of binoculars could pick up the sound of conversations.
It was also the first time he realized the Summoning Charm could be used for sound... Summoning sound, truly magical.
Therefore, the Magic Hand Mirror had a sound-gathering function. It could gather just the voices of the two conversing wizards, or it could gather all sounds.
It was like having a "noise cancellation mode."
Sean put away the Magic Hand Mirror and, listening to everyone's enthusiastic discussion, walked toward the Alchemy office.
"Oh, Sean isn't talking again. He prepared such a big surprise but isn't willing to say anything. Sometimes I feel like he's preparing some surprise every moment, and sometimes it's a fright."
That was Hermione's voice.
"Although I can't see him, I'm guessing Sean is secretly listening."
Justin chimed in.
"I couldn't agree more. Maybe he's secretly watching too."
Ron agreed.
"He's definitely 'lurking'."
Hermione concluded.
"Sean?"
Harry probed softly.
Sean took one last look at the Magic Hand Mirror, feeling a bit sheepish about being called out, then turned into the Alchemy office.
Various old instruments here were clicking and clacking in unison.
Wooden ones, iron ones, constantly moving ones, hanging from the ceiling, floating ones, one that looked like a dragon...
Professor Tyra's office was always full of magical whimsy.
"Let's go, my dear apprentice."
Professor Tyra looked travel-worn, her silver-white hair tips still stained with morning dew.
They went out the door and walked quietly toward the office near the North Tower, close to Gryffindor Tower.
There were transportation nodes just like inside the Ministry of Magic, with at least five fireplaces, all connected to the Floo Network and burning with green flames.
The door clicked open.
Sean observed the internal walls and ceiling; they were all built of rough stone, round in shape.
In a beautifully carved fireplace directly in front of them, a fire crackled, reflecting Professor Tyra's joyful face:
"Come, my apprentice. Remember the trick to using Floo Powder? Don't mispronounce it. It's Emerald Workshop—"
After speaking, the Professor pulled Sean to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of glittering powder from a jar on the mantelpiece, and threw it into the flames.
The green flames quickly engulfed both their figures.
...
Emerald Workshop.
This place, the size of a small village, was Professor Tyra's personal alchemy workshop, hidden behind a brick wall in a run-down alley in London.
Occasionally, the workshop welcomed guests, but most of the time, it was a gold mine for wizard merchants.
Flora Olivia Tyra, the foremost figure after Nicolas Flamel, never produced inferior magical objects.
For merchants in the wizarding world, this meant cooperating with her was a guaranteed profitable business; the only difference was how much profit.
Therefore, many merchants in the wizarding world often visited to build relationships.
Among them were descendants of ancient wizarding families, students accumulated by Professor Tyra over decades, and procurement officers working for various magical governments.
Among them, Professor Tyra's students came most often.
After all, these young wizards all harbored a deeply buried thought—Flora Olivia Tyra, their dear teacher, had no apprentice.
"Who are you? Another one of my aunt's students? Fine, it doesn't matter, follow me."
Stepping out of the fireplace, the first thing Sean saw was an inconspicuous black iron door covered in patina.
Beside the door stood a bright-eyed witch around twenty years old.
"Yes."
Sean said. He turned his head and could see a line written in Runes on the door:
> When we speak openly, we actually say nothing. But when we write, what is hidden is all truth.
This fit Sean's impression of alchemy perfectly.
For over a dozen centuries, alchemists' manuscripts had been full of symbols and codes to prevent those with ill intentions from obtaining information.
"What's your name?"
The young witch looked lively and spirited.
"Sean Green."
Sean answered, bowing slightly just like the young witch.
He looked around again; Professor Tyra had vanished to who knows where.
This was very strange, considering they had entered the fireplace together.
"I haven't seen a wizard as young as you before. I heard there were wizard merchants your age in Britain decades ago. My aunt helped them out a bit; some of them were quite outstanding."
The witch with crimson hair said. She squatted down to be face-to-face with Sean.
Decades ago, Britain...
Sean couldn't help but think of the child laborers in London. Their lives could be described as "hellish"—forced to work long hours under extremely harsh conditions, with no guarantee of safety, suffering devastating blows to their physical and mental health, with most hardly living to adulthood.
"I'm not a merchant."
Sean said.
"Oh, right, you're a student who hasn't become Professor Tyra's apprentice yet?"
The crimson-haired witch giggled.
Sean sighed slightly, suspecting Professor Tyra was watching him with interest from somewhere.
"Alright, follow me in, future Alchemy Master."
The young witch extended her long arm and dripped a drop of pure mercury into the mouth of the Ouroboros on the door.
Then, the gate opened.
What came into view was a massive machine run entirely on steam and magic, puffing out smoke with a "chug-chug" sound, the smoke drifting away in a line.
"Aunt Tyra's teacher once participated in the construction of the Hogwarts Express. In her generation, she's still researching the balance between steam and magic..."
The young witch introduced it enthusiastically.
"Look behind it..."
Following her gaze, behind it was a vast complex of buildings distributed in the hidden corners of London.