After the Start-of-Term Feast, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall invited several professors to accompany her to the Headmaster’s office on the eighth floor.

First was Professor Sykes, followed by the remaining three Heads of House.

Slughorn, despite not receiving a formal invitation, tagged along anyway. He was thick-skinned enough that no one bothered trying to stop him.

“Oh, right.” At the door, McGonagall suddenly turned to Kyle and Kanna. “You two should come as well. As new professors, it’s important you familiarize yourselves with your responsibilities.”

“Headmistress, I’m not exactly a new professor anymore,” Kyle said.

Ancient Runes might have only had one class a week, but it still counted.

“But it is your first time teaching Alchemy.”

“Fair enough.” Kyle nodded and followed after her without complaint.

After the new term began, the Headmaster’s office had taken on a very different appearance. More than half of the mysterious silver instruments were gone, along with a number of cabinets. In their place stood a large bookshelf.

It was filled not just with books, but also thick rolls of parchment—many several feet long—mostly filled with professional papers and journals like Transfiguration Today...

Overall, the office now felt more like a proper workspace for a headmaster.

The only thing unchanged was the portraits of former headmasters, all pretending to be asleep.

The moment Sykes stepped inside, she immediately spotted the portrait of Dilys Derwent and greeted her with familiarity.

“Trust me, coming back to work at Hogwarts after retirement is a good decision. I’m certainly glad I did,” Derwent said with a smile.

She, too, had once been a Healer at St. Mungo’s before joining Hogwarts as Headmistress. Their career paths were almost identical.

“I certainly hope so. Right now, I just hope the students don’t turn out to be too mischievous,” Sykes said softly.

Derwent’s portrait also hung in St. Mungo’s, so the two were quite familiar. The same went for Phineas Black, Armando Dippet, and Dumbledore.

While their portraits didn’t appear at St. Mungo’s, they’d all known Sykes personally. This was, in a way, a reunion of old friends—at least for Armando and Dumbledore, who had long considered Sykes one of their own.

“Honestly, why couldn’t you have accepted my offer when I was Headmaster?” Dumbledore sighed. “I must have invited you countless times.”

“Because I could tell you didn’t really want me to be the Potions professor,” Sykes replied.

“Maybe you thought Slughorn was better suited for the job.” She waved it off with a slight smile.

“Just joking. The truth is, I’d just finished most of my responsibilities. Besides, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away during a crisis and leave the young Healers to face Voldemort and the Death Eaters alone.”

“Someone had to stand in front of St. Mungo’s, and I was willing to be the first.”

A moment of silence fell over the office.

Slughorn opened his mouth, then shut it again. Professor Flitwick quietly wiped at the corner of his eye.

Few people knew that St. Mungo’s had always been a target of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The only reason it had remained safe was because of Dumbledore’s support behind the scenes—and the work Sykes had done as Director.

“Why the long faces?” Sykes didn’t seem fazed by any of it and quickly moved the conversation along. “Minerva, you called us here for a reason, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” McGonagall replied. “I’d like to ask if you’d be willing to take on the role of Head of Gryffindor House... if you don’t mind.”

Since she had taken over as Headmistress, the Gryffindor Head of House position had been left vacant. McGonagall had continued to manage it herself, but it had taken up far too much of her time.

Being a Head of House sounded prestigious, but in practice it meant dealing with an endless list of minor crises. They might not have been serious, but they were certainly tedious.

Things like: a student sneaking into a forbidden area of the castle at night, someone wandering the halls in the early hours, or an overly confident first-year charging off to challenge a troll...

All of these fell under the Head of House’s responsibility. The Headmistress was only brought in afterward. In short, any time a student broke the rules, the relevant Head of House had to deal with it first.

And Gryffindor... well, for reasons everyone understood, Professor McGonagall had long been the busiest Head of House.

By comparison, Professor Sprout had it easy. Her days were filled with long, quiet hours in the greenhouse, tending to soft, fragile plants—much like any other professor’s workload.

Now that Hogwarts had returned to normal, continuing to serve as both Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor had become more than McGonagall could handle.

In fact, she had hoped to pass on the role as early as last year—she simply hadn’t found the right person.

She’d once considered Slughorn, but he’d declined, insisting he wasn’t a Gryffindor graduate.

She turned to Sykes and asked, “I remember you graduated from Gryffindor, didn’t you?”

“That’s right.” Sykes nodded. “I studied in Gryffindor House.”

“Then you’re the perfect choice to be Head of House.”

“Yes, exactly...”

“The Headmistress is right.”

Sykes was still hesitating, but the other professors were already encouraging her to accept.

Aside from a few reasons she wasn’t willing to voice, Sykes was clearly qualified to take on the position.

“But I have no idea what I’m supposed to do,” Sykes admitted.

She was being honest—but no one else seemed to believe that would be an issue. After all, how could the former Director of St. Mungo’s be daunted by a Head of House position?

Obviously not.

“It’s fine. I’m sure your assistant—and our new Alchemy professor—will be happy to help.”

At the edge of the group, Kyle and Kanna instinctively looked up, caught off guard that this somehow involved them.

Kanna was the first to recover and nodded.

She didn’t really know what being Head of House entailed either, but if Headmistress McGonagall had already said it, she might as well agree.

Since Kanna nodded, Kyle naturally didn’t refuse either.

After that, no one paid them much attention.

This meeting felt more like an informal introduction—to let everyone meet the new Gryffindor Head of House.

And also to finalize the new class schedule.

That was the usual procedure every year. Last year, with Dumbledore having suddenly returned to the past, it had all taken place in McGonagall’s office, so Kyle hadn’t been involved.

When the new timetable was handed out, Kyle glanced at his and wondered if it was deliberate—his Alchemy class was scheduled for the very last day of the week.

Still, it came as a relief.

If his first class had been tomorrow, he honestly wasn’t sure he would’ve been ready. Now, he had plenty of time to prepare.

Headmistress McGonagall gave a few final reminders, and the professors began to take their leave.

Kanna stayed with Sykes.

Their relationship was similar to Kyle’s with Newt—in some sense, teacher and student.

After the two of them had left, Snape also made his way toward the door. But as he passed Kyle, he suddenly stopped.

“Good luck, Alchemy Professor,” he said, drawing out the words with a trace of biting sarcasm. “I do hope you won’t be too disappointed when you see how empty your classroom is.”

“You must be honored—surpassing Professor Bubblay, no less.”

Kyle curled his lip but didn’t respond.

He knew exactly what Snape meant. Since Alchemy was a brand-new subject, only a few students had signed up. Across all years, only fifteen students had enrolled. Ancient Runes had sixteen.

In other words, Alchemy had broken Ancient Runes’ long-standing record—claiming the honor of being the least-enrolled class at Hogwarts.

But Kyle didn’t find it strange. As a new subject, students in fourth year and above obviously hadn’t chosen it. So those fifteen had to be third-years.

Ancient Runes, on the other hand, was offered to five year groups, so it made sense that it had more students.

Seeing that Kyle didn’t take the bait, Snape seemed to lose interest. With a sharp flick of his head, he strode off without another word.

Kyle remained where he was.

Only after all the other professors had left did he finally look up at Headmistress McGonagall.

“I know what you’re going to ask,” McGonagall said with a smile. “It was Dumbledore’s idea. He wanted to surprise you.”

“This doesn’t count as a surprise—more like a scare,” Kyle muttered. “Good thing I figured it out from what Hagrid said, or I wouldn’t have reacted fast enough back in the Great Hall.”

“Maybe that’s what he was going for,” came Armando Dippet’s voice from his portrait, drifting faintly through the room.

None of the other portraits disagreed—not even Dumbledore’s. He was currently pretending not to hear a word, staring blankly at the stone floor.

“Perhaps... that’s true,” McGonagall said, a little awkwardly. “But as a member of the Board of Governors—and the primary sponsor of the Alchemy classroom—I couldn’t exactly refuse his small request.”

“Still, I’ve scheduled your class as late in the week as possible. And since it’s only one year group, you’ll only need to teach one lesson per week. I trust you can handle that much.”

“No problem, Headmistress,” Kyle said with a nod.

He’d already looked over the Alchemy syllabus. The textbook was Basic Alchemy: From Runes to Symbols by Professor Viktor.

It was all introductory material—he could teach it backward without glancing at the book.

What he was worried about… was something else.

“Headmistress, is Professor Dumbledore back?”

“Of course not,” McGonagall said, waving a hand and pulling a letter from her desk drawer. “Everything just now was written in this letter ahead of time.”

“The letter... was it here in the Headmaster’s office the whole time?”

“No,” McGonagall shook her head. “To be honest, I only received it a week ago. It arrived at Hogwarts along with a massive brass furnace.”

“They called it a 'spinning furnace.'”

“An Alchemical Converter,” Kyle shot to his feet.

That was exactly what he’d been worried about. The textbook was easy to handle, and the lesson content was simple enough. The one thing that actually mattered for the Alchemy class was the Alchemical Converter.

Especially for young students who had virtually no grasp of magical script, this device was absolutely essential.

He’d hesitated over the idea many times before. Hardly any students at Hogwarts chose to study Ancient Runes—would they really opt for Alchemy?

After all, Alchemy required even more complex and intricate runes.

But now Dumbledore had made the decision for him—and even sent the converter.

“Yes, that’s what it’s called,” McGonagall said. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about Alchemy myself. I’d never even heard of magical item crafting requiring a brass furnace.”

“Most people haven’t,” Kyle replied with a small smile. “It replaces runic inscriptions and makes things significantly easier for beginners.”

“Sorry to ask, Headmistress, but where is it now?” Kyle asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

“The third floor, near the stairwell… actually, I’ll just take you there.”

...

The two of them left the Headmaster’s office and made their way to a vacant classroom on the third floor.

This had once been the room where Lockhart taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now, combined with the adjoining classroom, it had been converted into the Alchemy room.

Once the dividing wall had been knocked down, it became the largest classroom in all of Hogwarts.

The massive brass furnace stood to the left side of the room.

Kyle pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Well? How does it look?”

“Identical.”

“What?” The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the novelꞁire.net

“Oh—just exactly the same as the one I saw at Beauxbatons.”

“In fact, that’s where it came from,” McGonagall said.

She couldn’t help but recall the delivery scene in vivid detail: five enormous Abraxan horses descending from the sky, crashing into the ground and leaving a massive crater in their wake.

Only the powerful Abraxans unique to Beauxbatons could’ve transported something that heavy.

“Beauxbatons…” Kyle blinked in surprise.

He’d always assumed the Alchemical Converter was something Dumbledore had constructed himself—but now it seemed he’d had it custom-made.

“Headmistress, did Professor Dumbledore say anything else in his letter?”

“No.” McGonagall pulled a folded parchment from her pocket and opened it.

The letter was short—just a note to keep everything secret and to surprise Kyle.

Kyle took another look at the envelope. It only listed the destination address—there was no way to tell when it had actually been written.

“Something wrong?”

“No.” Kyle shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

Regardless, Dumbledore had solved the most difficult part for him. With this converter, teaching the class would be much more manageable.

Kyle lingered in the room, circling the furnace, running his hands over it, examining every detail. He didn’t leave until after curfew.

McGonagall had already gone at some point, and now Kyle was alone in the dark hallway.

...

As he made his way across the grounds toward his wooden cottage, he kept thinking about how to structure his Alchemy lessons.

The converter Dumbledore had sent would definitely help simplify the runic components—but students couldn’t rely on it forever. Sooner or later, they’d have to learn proper magical script.

That was true even at Beauxbatons. Only the lower years were allowed to use the converter—it served as a transitional aid while they learned runes.

But here at Hogwarts... hardly anyone chose Ancient Runes at all.

Kyle walked through the moonlit grounds toward his cabin, glancing back at the castle glowing under the stars. Suddenly, he remembered the enchanted map of Hogwarts he’d once created.

Maybe it was time to visit Hogsmeade and ask Fred and George for help.

The biggest difference between Alchemy and Ancient Runes?

Alchemy produced things that were actually worth money.

Compared to a score on a test or a certificate nobody cared about, a handful of shining Galleons might just be a far better incentive—and a real reason for young witches and wizards to take the class seriously.

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