HP: Alchemy? Nah, It's Crafting

"Hold up! Don't bury him just yet!"

"This book I read said if you mix water with the dirt, it turns into mud, and then it hardens better once it sets. Much sturdier burial."

"You lot, don't just stand there—someone grab his wand."

"Uh, how exactly are we burying him?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Like… head down or feet down?"

"You seriously don't know? Head down, obviously."

Lockhart's eyes widened in sheer panic as he listened to the cold, matter-of-fact discussion about his burial.

"I-I think this is completely unnecessary!" he stammered.

"Hey, Joey—where's your sock? Shove it in his mouth."

"On it."

...

Opening Feast, Hogwarts.

"Honestly," Kasenhis muttered, standing by his office's floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed. "The fact that he actually managed to dig himself out of the mud…"

He shook his head, turning to Dumbledore, who sipped tea with his usual serene amusement.

"I gotta admit," Kasenhis sighed, "that's some serious talent right there."

"I'm really grateful that you understand me."

"I'm basically at Snape's level now, fully embracing the art of not caring. Honestly, a hypocritical clown is still an upgrade from last year's Quirrell. Looking at it that way, Dumbledore—you've actually improved your hiring standards this year," Kasenhis said, half-joking.

"Hahaha~ Yes, indeed," Dumbledore nodded, completely agreeing without a trace of guilt. "And at the end of the day, he'll only last a year. By this time next year, you won't see him here anymore."

"Because of that curse? The one on the Defense Against the Dark Arts post?"

"Yes. As long as the person who cast it is alive, the curse won't break." Dumbledore sighed. "But honestly, that's not even the worst part. The real problem is that—besides Lockhart—no one else even applied. Originally, I wanted Lupin to take the position, but he's still... well, sorting out his life."

"I'm more curious about why Lockhart even had the guts to apply."

"Well... He already signed the magical contract before you lot buried him in the dirt. Too late for regrets."

Kasenhis nodded, then casually shuffled a bit closer to Dumbledore.

"By the way, Dumbledore… remember what you promised me before the holidays?"

".....Let me think…" Dumbledore suddenly murmured, eyes drifting to the distance. "Oh! I left my wool socks drying on the windowsill. Can't let outsiders see that—how embarrassing."

He turned immediately, trying to make a graceful escape from the Alchemy office.

Only for Kasenhis to catch up in three quick strides.

"Lockhart wasn't interviewed in your office." Kasenhis smirked. "So what's your excuse now?"

"...Didn't I already give you the Philosopher's Stone?"

"See, that's a completely separate matter. The Philosopher's Stone is one thing, but the wages of a poor, underpaid professor is another. We can't mix the two." Kasenhis said with a completely serious expression.

"Fine, fine. Come to my office, we'll sign a new contract."

...

By evening, Kasenhis was comfortably lounging in his chair, basking in the joy of victory. After some fierce negotiations, he had successfully secured himself a much better salary.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the professor's table, in the darkest, most miserable corner, Lockhart was mechanically chewing his food, his soul already halfway out of his body.

When he had first accepted Dumbledore's invitation to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, he had been ecstatic.

It was perfect—he could boost his reputation among the students, increase his book sales, and rake in loads of gold.

But that was before.

Before he had been dragged out of Flourish and Blotts, buried head-down in the dirt by a horde of small but terrifying Hogwarts students, with only a single pipe left for him to breathe through.

It was in that pitch-black, suffocating moment that he realized his mistake.

Now, sitting in the Great Hall, he could already foresee his bleak, miserable year ahead.

And then, there was Kasenhis.

A single wave of his hand, and a swarm of students would immediately rush over to do his bidding.

What kind of professor had that much authority?!

Lockhart stared at him with pure horror.

This wasn't a normal professor.

This was organized crime.

Hogwarts under Kasenhis wasn't a school.

It was a military dictatorship...

'Ugh.. I suddenly felt a chill..' Kasenhis heard the sharp screech of a knife scraping against a plate—a sound so unholy that it sent a chill down his spine. His gaze drifted towards the source.

And there sat Lockhart, butchering his dinner with a level of vengeance usually reserved for ancient grudges.

Kasenhis narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

How could he bait this guy into a full-on, high-stakes wizard duel?

A proper explosive battle. One filled with blood-pumping adrenaline and spellfire.

After all, it wasn't like they couldn't find a substitute teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Snape would gladly take over. In fact, he'd probably thank him.

But before he could finalize his genius plan, something caught his eye—two small figures lingering awkwardly at the edge of his vision, trying very hard to exist without existing.

He put on his best act, casually scanning the room like a detective. Once he was sure that no other professors were paying attention, he leisurely got up from his seat and followed the two figures out of the Great Hall.

Outside, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, what's up?"

"H-Harry and Ron are missing!" Hermione blurted out, her face full of worry.

Kasenhis' first instinct was logic. "We should tell Dumbledore immediately. A missing student is not a minor issue."

"But—Professor," Neville hesitated, "Will they... get expelled if we tell him?"

Kasenhis opened his mouth to reassure them, but then—

He froze.

His eyes locked onto something in the sky.

Something large.

Something rapidly approaching Hogwarts.

A flying object.

And—wait.

"Hold up. Is a Muggle airstrike incoming?!"

Kasenhis tilted his head back, adjusting his monocle to analyze the object.

[Mechanical][Magical]

"...Oh. Never mind. Not a Muggle attack."

"Then what is it?" Hermione asked, still anxious.

Kasenhis squinted at the approaching vehicle.

"It's an alchemically enhanced flying machine. Probably some reckless young wizard's pet project—"

He stopped.

His brain short-circuited.

His face froze in absolute disbelief.

Sitting in the driver's seat of that magical death trap, gripping the wheel with equal parts terror and excitement, were two very familiar figures.

"...Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

"Hermione," Kasenhis sighed, rubbing his temples, "I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you."

She gulped.

"This year, Gryffindor will be starting at negative points."

Before she could protest, Kasenhis vanished in an instant.

The next second, he reappeared beside a rickety old shack, wand already raised towards the incoming disaster from above—an alchemically enhanced flying car, diving straight down like it was auditioning for the Ghost Riders of Doom.

His reaction was immediate.

With a flick of his wand, an entire webbed net burst into existence between the ground and the sky, spanning the area like a giant spider's lair.

"AhhhhhhhhhhhHHHH!" Thud!

The car slammed into the thick magical threads, its momentum absorbed by the intricate layers. Slowly, gracefully, like it was giving Sir Isaac Newton the respect he deserved, the car descended safely to the ground.

Because, at the end of the day, Kasenshis was a generous man.

Another casual wave of his wand, and the webs vanished into thin air.

Now, with the dust settled, Kasenhis finally got a proper look at the two troublemakers inside the vehicle.

Harry was the first to climb out, grinning like he'd just pulled off the greatest stunt in wizarding history.

"That was terrible.. Oh.. Cool glasses, Professor," he greeted, brushing dirt off his robes. "I meant to say that back in Flourish and Blotts, but y'know… too many people."

Kasenhis nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, I was very aware of that situation. But now," he gestured to the wreckage, "would you like to explain why exactly you and Ron are piloting a flying death machine?"

Harry hesitated.

"If you can spin me a tale that at least pretends to follow basic logic—and if your decision-making process doesn't make me want to launch myself off the Astronomy Tower—"

"—You won't take points off?" Harry asked hopefully.

Kasenshis smirked.

"I'll consider deducting only a thousand points instead."

"One Thousand—!? Each?!"

"Well, there's two of you, aren't there?"

Ron groaned, already accepting his fate.

"The barrier to Platform 9 ¾ was sealed, Professor! We had no choice! We thought—"

Kasenshis raised a brow.

"Oh? So the best solution was to hijack a magic car and fly it across the country like some bootleg stunt pilots?"

Ron gave him a tired look.

"Professor…" he sighed. "Would you just take the points?"

Hermione somewhere in the castle: Excuse me?????

___________

Read two weeks/12 Chaps ahead-

P@treon: Dragonel