HP: Alchemy? Nah, It's Crafting

As the bell signaled the end of class, every student walked out carrying a puppet shell with no core.

Meanwhile, Kasenhis walked out carrying two—both with cores.

Yesterday's Puppet Brother had just welcomed his new Puppet Little Brother.

Returning to his third-floor office, Kasenhis immediately resumed working on his half-finished Elemental Distillation Machine.

A massive amount of elemental crystals and blocks were fed into the machine. The system distilled them into elemental liquid, which then traveled through tubes and filled jar after jar.

That was exactly how he had created the elemental vials he had handed out to the students in class.

Now, he was working on the final step—the packaging assembly line.

After carefully adjusting the mechanisms, he pulled the lever.

The entire machine hummed to life, running with silent precision. Only when everything worked flawlessly did he finally seal the structure with glass.

Now, it was time to relax—the golden era of slacking off had arrived.

After all, with only five classes per week, no matter how much work he had, there was a limit.

…Which meant it was time to pick a fight!

With Lockhart!

...

One Week Later

A strange rumor had spread throughout Hogwarts' student body.

Somehow, people started saying that both the Alchemy Professor and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor were cursed—that these two professors could never peacefully coexist.

As the legend went:

"When two tigers fight, one must fall."

And in Hogwarts, this rule apparently applied to Alchemy Professors and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors.

At Hogwarts, the legend went like this:

The two professors would inevitably battle.

By the time the school year ended, only one would emerge victorious—the winner would continue teaching at Hogwarts.

The loser?

Best-case scenario, they left injured.

Worst-case scenario, they didn't leave at all.

This was what the younger students had overheard from the older ones.

After all, before Kasenhis became the Alchemy Professor, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor position was already cursed—no one lasted long.

At the time, students had only speculated about the Defense Professors.

Then, in Kasenhis' very first year, he had—with his unshakable fate and solid magic—straight-up gotten rid of Professor Quirrell.

Yet, even then, people hadn't connected the dots.

Then time passed.

Before anyone knew it, this was Kasenhis' second year at Hogwarts.

And once again, the Alchemy Professor and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor had become mortal enemies.

Though, technically, this wasn't the second time.

More like one-and-a-half times.

Once again, the battle had begun.

And once again, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor lost—and things paused.

It was only then that some of the sharper students started piecing things together.

Why did no Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor last long at Hogwarts?

Because the Alchemy Professor countered them.

Why did the 1990 Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor—the one before Harry Potter's year—leave quietly without injury, simply resigning and going home?

Because that year, the Alchemy Professor retired due to health reasons and left Hogwarts.

Even though that Alchemy Professor didn't even finish a full year, he still managed to force the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor to resign within half a school year.

Then came 1991.

Professor Quirrell?

Dead.

Yes, he deserved it, but the fact remains—he was still dead.

And now, this year...

Because Professor Kasenhis' fate was even tougher than the last Alchemy Professor, he had nearly cursed this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor before he even officially started teaching.

Specifically?

He had buried Lockhart headfirst into the ground!

If it had rained, or if even a single bird had decided to relieve itself nearby, Lockhart might not have made it back out.

Thus, a perfectly logical, thrilling Hogwarts urban legend began to spread among the students.

And soon enough, two certain troublemakers took it upon themselves to document everything.

Yes—the Weasley twins.

Honestly, they had never put this much effort into their actual essays.

This "research paper" contained:

Detailed cause-and-effect analysis.

Fabricated Hogwarts historical records.

Various wild legends.

Even "testimonies" from ghosts and professors which, of course, were completely made up. 

The document—yes, that document—was carefully slipped through the gap beneath the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

Lockhart, ever the optimist, picked it up, assuming it was yet another anonymous love letter from one of his devoted admirers.

Heh~ Why am I so handsome~?

With a confident smirk, he grabbed a letter opener, sliced through the wax seal, and prepared himself to bask in the warmth of adoration...

Then he read it.

What the...!

His once-rosy complexion turned a ghastly, ghostly pale in an instant.

Now, normally, as a proud Ravenclaw, Lockhart wouldn't be so easily rattled by a poorly written, obviously fabricated school legend.

But unfortunately for him—he had been born just a little too late.

By the time he entered Hogwarts, the cursed fate of the Defense Against the Dark Arts position had already been sealed by none other than Lord Voldemort himself.

And now, as he dusted off the cobwebs of memory, he realized...

During his entire seven years at Hogwarts, there had indeed been seven different Defense Against the Dark Arts professors.

Meanwhile, the old Alchemy Professor had always been the same—the very same old wizard who had only just retired two years ago.

"...It... It couldn't be, right?"

Lockhart stared at the now sweat-drenched parchment in his trembling hands, single-handedly contributing to global warming with the sheer amount of stress-induced sweat pouring off him.

He sat there, frozen in stunned silence, for a full minute.

Not because he needed time to process the information.

But because his legs had gone completely numb, and he physically couldn't stand up yet.

Dragging his static-ridden, signal-lost TV legs behind him, the poor, unfortunate Professor Lockhart shuffled his way toward the Headmaster's office, wincing with each agonizing step.

At this moment, he was absolutely convinced that Dumbledore had set him up.

And, as fate would have it, at that very same moment, somewhere else in the castle, a certain Alchemy professor was thinking the exact same thing.

"DUMBLEDORE!"

Lockhart stumbled into the Headmaster's office with all the grace of a wounded hippogriff, collapsing into the chair opposite Dumbledore.

His once perfectly styled, hairspray-infused locks were now drenched in sweat, plastered to his clammy forehead.

With shaking hands, he slammed the infamous letter onto Dumbledore's desk.

"Is this TRUE?!"

"Oh? What is this?" Dumbledore calmly picked up the parchment, scanning its contents with his usual twinkling-eyed patience.

After reading it from top to bottom, he finally looked up and spoke.

"You are a Ravenclaw, are you not? Tell me, why would a Ravenclaw believe in such nonsense?"

"B-But... I've NEVER seen a single Defense Against the Dark Arts professor last more than a year!" Lockhart protested, his voice rising in desperation.

Dumbledore smiled knowingly, twirling the parchment between his fingers.

"Trust me, Lockhart..." he said smoothly, his voice dripping with carefully measured reassurance.

"This is nothing more than an old Hogwarts myth. And a childish one at that. Hahaha, the little ones must be just pranking you—"

"But... how am I supposed to believe you!" Lockhart shouted, trembling.

"Oh... don't worry about that. I am the Headmaster, after all. Of course, I have ways to make you believe me," Dumbledore said as he pulled out his Elder Wand from his sleeve.

Ten minutes later...

Lockhart walked out of the Headmaster's office.

After Dumbledore's friendly persuasion, he finally believed that the so-called conflict between the Alchemy Professor and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was nothing but nonsense.

Until he turned the corner on his way back to his office...

And saw a black notebook lying on the ground.

___________

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P@treon: Dragonel