The realization that Headmaster Dumbledore possessed a direct channel to Nicolas Flamel—and by extension, to the legendary Lemaître Alloy—sent a dizzying wave of implications through Anduin. He was stunned, not by the connection itself, but by the paradox it presented.
If the Flamel Alloy was truly the unparalleled material, possessing the structural integrity of Ulimsteel and the channeling proficiency of Iser Mithril, why wasn't the Order of the Phoenix armed with it? Why were his adult allies still relying on standard, brittle magical defenses?
Was the difficulty in its synthesis so impossibly high that even an immortal genius like Flamel could only produce fragments? Or was Dumbledore reserving it for an existential threat far greater than what they currently faced?
Anduin quickly shelved the problem. Such high-level scarcity and political maneuvering were currently beyond his control; for now, these advanced materials were simply theoretical constructs.
Professor Burns continued, moving beyond the legendary triad of magical metals to introduce the practicalities of the alchemical trade.
"Beyond the secrets of the Fae and the genius of Flamel, the market is sustained by alloys invented by human wizards," Burns explained. He presented a dull gray block.
"This is Agriba Alloy. It is marginally less durable than Ulimsteel, but its recipe was pioneered by the great Cornelius Agriba, and critically, its formula is widely accessible. Because it can be synthesized by countless alchemists, it is not particularly rare, making it the most common and reliable choice for durable, general-purpose magical construction."
Then, Burns produced a sliver of metal that seemed to absorb all ambient light, giving it a menacing, almost oily sheen.
"And then we have the infamous Hybol Alloy. Invented by the dark alchemist Hybol, this metal is suitable for carrying potent curses and dark magic. It possesses remarkable Transmutation properties—it can be temporarily disguised as Agriba, or even Mithril, for extended periods without degrading the underlying curse it holds. This makes it a perfect material for intrigue, deception, and the crafting of cursed objects designed to be smuggled into secure locations. Never trust a piece of unauthenticated, unmarked jewelry, Anduin. It might be a beautiful, cursed Hybol trap."
It became clear to Anduin that Professor Burns's expertise was vast, extending far beyond the superficial knowledge he had initially claimed. Burns was not just familiar with ingredients; he was intimately acquainted with their history, their market value, and their practical application in both light and dark alchemy.
By allowing Anduin to observe and touch these materials directly, Burns was facilitating a fundamental, tactile understanding that no book could ever replicate.
As Professor Burns moved on to the organic materials—the skins, furs, bones, and fluids of magical creatures—Anduin felt a sudden, profound sense of dawning realization.
"The products of magical creatures form the bedrock of everyday alchemy," Burns lectured, pulling out a sheaf of thick, dark leather. "From Dragonhide for heat-resistant gloves, to Manticore Fur for cushioning and scent dampening, these materials are the most common consumables on the market."
Anduin stared at the pile of supplies. He had seen them all before. He felt a chilling knot tighten in his stomach.
"Take this, for instance," Burns said, holding up a long, snow-white, impossibly luminous strand of hair. "Unicorn fur. Prized for its purity and inherent purification properties. A single, uncut strand is worth a fortune and is used in fine potions and to create self-cleansing bonds."
Anduin's mind flashed to the back of Hagrid's hut, where the massive, cured hams hung. The rope Hagrid used was not a single strand, but a thick, rugged, dozen-ply braid of that very same luminescent material.
He had always wondered why that particular rope never darkened or frayed, always retaining its pristine sheen despite its use in the greasy, outdoor environment. Hagrid was casually suspending his dinner with an artifact worth a dozen fortunes.
Burns continued, oblivious. "Or consider this: Manticore Fur. It is rough, yet surprisingly insulating. Alchemists use it to line boxes meant to contain volatile mixtures, as it possesses a remarkable ability to dampen ambient magical signatures and suppress low-level energetic noise."
Anduin recalled the large, lumpy, incredibly cozy pillow Hagrid insisted he use in the hut—the one Hagrid used to brace his broad chest when leaning over the cauldron. It was a massive, untreated piece of Manticore fur. Hagrid, the soft-hearted giant, was apparently using a millionaire's comfort item as a simple cushion.
Burns then held up a needle-like tool. "This, a finely sharpened piece of Horned Beast Horn, is used in leather-working. Its natural magical toughness is required to cleanly puncture and work with exceptionally resilient hides, such as…"
"…such as Dragonhide," Anduin finished softly, his eyes drifting to the battered, scruffy-looking doormat by the professor's internal door.
That mat, which Hagrid had once casually tossed down by his own hut entrance after a "minor upgrade," was, Anduin now realized, a huge, perfectly preserved sheet of Dragonhide, fire-resistant and magically resilient, and Hagrid was wiping his boots on it.
A wave of profound shock washed over him. He was not just sitting near a giant, he had been living in a covert treasure chest. Hagrid, in his blissful, rural ignorance, was arguably one of the wealthiest people in the wizarding world, possessing a stock of rare ingredients so extensive he was using them for common domestic tasks.
"Wow," Anduin murmured, shaking his head. "It seems I can no longer view Hagrid as just an ordinary gamekeeper."
Over the next few days, Anduin rapidly absorbed the theoretical knowledge, and Professor Burns finally transitioned to the practical application of alchemy: enchantment and engraving.
Burns unrolled a plush, velvet scroll, revealing a specialized set of instruments known as a Guildsman's Engraving Set.
It contained fourteen slim tools—seven with wickedly sharp, precise tips, and seven with blunt, pen-like fronts—alongside a finely calibrated magnifying glass, a jeweler's scale, a segmented ruler, and a specialized compass for drawing perfect magical geometry.
"There are two fundamental methodologies for enchanting an object," Burns began, picking up a sharp knife. "The first is Direct Casting—simply hitting the object with a spell, like casting the Invisibility Charm onto a cloak. It's fast, requires high magical output, but its effect is inherently short-lived. An ordinary Invisibility Cloak, for example, will lose its power within a few years, at best."
He set the sharp knife down and picked up the blunt, pen-like tool. "The second method, which is the cornerstone of professional alchemy, is Runic Engraving. This involves carving or impressing a complex runic matrix into the enchanted material.
The matrix acts as a stable magical capacitor and transformer. As long as you periodically replenish the object with a small infusion of magic—a simple tap of the wand, for example—its enchantment will last indefinitely. This is the difference between casting a spell on a thing and casting a spell into a thing."
Burns outlined the two subsets of engraving techniques:
Open Engraving:Using the sharp knives. The runic pattern is carved directly onto the surface of the material. This is easier to execute and verify but leaves the runes visible and susceptible to external damage.
Closed Engraving: Using the blunt, pen-like tools. This is the art of the master. It requires injecting the magic directly through the blunt tip, forcing the runic energy pattern to form internally within the material's structure. As the pattern is completed, the spell is simultaneously created, resulting in a stable, superior, and invisible alchemical effect. This demands extremely strong, continuous control over the flow of magic.
"You have excellent magical control, Anduin. Your training on the Levitation Charm should have disciplined your mana flow sufficiently. We will attempt Closed Engraving immediately. If you can handle the complexity of indirect insertion, surface carving will be trivial,"
Burns said, handing Anduin a small, soft block of elder wood and a medium-sized blunt engraving tool. "Try to etch the basic Levitation Rune into this. It is one you know intimately; focus on the flow, not the memory of the shape."
Anduin took the wood—the most temperamental and fragile medium due to its natural grain and low density—and held the blunt knife like a pen. He focused, drawing his raw magical energy to the tip. A faint, silver light began to glow from the metal.
The first attempt was a study in profound concentration. He had to maintain a perfectly even magical flow, ensuring the energy was forcing the rune's geometry into the wood without wavering, while simultaneously maintaining a perfectly steady hand to guide the tool. The process felt like trying to write on the surface of water with a beam of light.
He was past the halfway point, the internal runic structure almost complete, when his concentration wavered for a microsecond. The magical pressure, which he had been holding at the precise threshold of the wood's tolerance, became momentarily excessive.
CRACK!
The elder wood split with a percussive snap, the magical light dissipating instantly. The piece was ruined, the latent energy released in a plume of harmless smoke.
Professor Burns merely nodded, completely unsurprised. "Excellent start. To reach the midpoint with a consistent charge is remarkable. That 'crack' is the sound of extreme magical pressure overcoming the natural tensile strength of the wood. This is why wood is so unforgiving; metal materials offer a far higher margin of error. Your hand is steady, Anduin, but your magical output is slightly too prone to spiking. Compensate for the material's fragility. Try again."
Anduin's pride was stung, but his determination was absolute. He repeated the process—four more attempts, four more failures. Each time, he learned exactly when the spike occurred: the transition points where the rune required a change in direction or a sudden increase in complexity.
Finally, on the fifth attempt, Anduin internalized the rhythm. He treated the process like weaving fine silk—smooth, consistent, and gently relentless. He anticipated the difficult turns, softening his magical flow just before the points of highest stress, and then gently increasing it again.
The glowing tip of the knife moved slowly across the wood, and this time, there was no sound of tearing or stress. The silver light simply sank, invisible and silent, into the heart of the wood.
When he finished, he stepped back, exhausted but exhilarated. Professor Burns tapped the piece of wood with his wand, casting a minor activation spell. The small, unassuming block of elder wood immediately lifted off the table, floating calmly and silently in the air, sustained by its internalized, permanent runic matrix.
"Well done! One success in five tries, and you accomplished it using the most advanced and difficult technique on the most fragile material," Professor Burns exclaimed, his usually reserved voice alight with professional excitement. "That is the success rate of a veteran alchemist, not a beginner. You have a profound natural affinity for this craft, Anduin."
"Thank you, Professor," Anduin replied, feeling the satisfaction of overcoming a pure physical and magical challenge.
"Now, the hard work begins. I am lending you this blunt carving knife. You must practice the feel of the indirect carving until it is second nature—write your notes with it, use it to practice drawing runic components, use it to peel fruit, whatever it takes to internalize the precise flow required. Once you achieve mastery in wood, we will apply this technique to metal and begin the first experimental forging of your Echo Place Charm."
Professor Burns's excitement is contagious! Now that Anduin has the basics of engraving, what specific type of metal—Agriba, Mithril, or Obsidian Steel—do you think he should attempt to use for his very first attempt at the Echo Place Charm, and why?