Chapter 35: Professor Mor and Alchemy
Alchemy was deeply intertwined with Ancient Runes, and the latter was widely regarded as one of the most difficult subjects at Hogwarts. While most magical courses emphasized practical application—except for History of Magic, which was purely theoretical—Ancient Runes demanded rote memorization from the very beginning.
The characters, their forms, sounds, and meanings were so vastly different from modern languages that mastering the fundamentals required nothing short of sheer memorization. Few students managed to commit the entire curriculum to memory by graduation.
Fortunately, Ravenclaw students rarely suffered from poor memory retention. Even if Wade Gray wasn’t quite on Hermione Granger’s level, he had once undergone specialized training to enhance his memory. As a result, his recall speed was nearly identical to hers.
Within just three months of learning magic, he had memorized several textbooks entirely—driven by both his exceptional memory and his deep passion for alchemy. He reinforced his knowledge through countless rounds of handwriting practice, and now, he no longer made mistakes in this area.
After a long silence, Professor Mor began quizzing him on the contents of the books. Then, he pulled out parchment and a feather quill, randomly calling out Ancient Runes symbols and short phrases for Wade to write down.
After more than an hour, Professor Mor had to admit—this student, who had seemed like just a child in his eyes, wasn’t lying. He truly knew everything he claimed to know.
Alchemy was one of the most challenging courses at Hogwarts, and Professor Mor’s standards were notoriously strict. Fewer than ten students per year dared to enroll, and they were always top performers in their respective years. Yet even the most gifted seventh-year students in his class would stumble on at least one or two questions.
Alchemy required the sharp imagination and boundless creativity of a genius, coupled with the precision, rigor, and meticulousness of a clock’s finest gears. These two qualities rarely coexisted in a single person.
And yet, before him sat—just a child.
Professor Mor suddenly realized he knew absolutely nothing about this student.
“Child,” the elderly professor said gently, “what year are you in?”
“First Year, sir,” Wade replied.
Professor Mor paused again. “I remember—Ancient Runes is an elective for third years, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Wade said, doing his best to remain composed and not act like a peacock flaunting its feathers.
The professor didn’t care whether Wade appeared mature or not. He was already mentally retracing his own childhood—his eleventh year, his first steps into Alchemy at sixteen, and the extraordinary wizards he’d studied: Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Voldemort—what had they been capable of in their first year?
As he stared at Wade, his gaze grew increasingly like that of a man who’d just discovered a hidden treasure. His smile softened further, and he asked in a gentle voice, “What’s your name, child? Which House are you in?”
“Wade Gray, Ravenclaw House,” Wade said, looking up. He could already sense the shift in the professor’s attitude.
Professor Mor repeated the question, now with solemn sincerity: “You truly love Alchemy, don’t you, Wade?”
“Yes, Professor,” Wade replied, as always: “It’s a wondrous field—capable of changing the world. I may spend my entire life studying it.”
“Then as a wizard,” Professor Mor asked, “how do you view Muggle technological advancements?”
This question was easy enough—the office’s furnishings alone gave away what the professor expected to hear. But Wade hesitated. He thought deeply before speaking.
“Muggle technology is advancing rapidly,” he said slowly. “Their tools are constantly being upgraded, communication is faster than ever, and their impact on the world grows ever more profound. Wizards must actively learn, absorb, and integrate these developments—otherwise, we’ll one day be left behind by history.”
This was his genuine belief.
Yes, he admired the magic of the wizarding world—but when he compared it honestly to the real world, the gap was staggering:
- Wizard communication: Owls.
Muggle communication: Instant mobile phones, global internet networks.
- Wizard population: Roughly three thousand in Britain, maybe a few hundred thousand worldwide.
Muggle population: Over fifty-seven million in Britain alone, nearly 5.4 billion globally—and projected to reach 7 billion in twenty years, 8 billion in thirty.
- Wizard killing: Only a few dark wizards could cast the Killing Curse.
Muggle warfare: Maxim machine guns, incendiary bombs, nuclear weapons, self-propelled artillery, howitzers, intercontinental missiles—two-year-old children can pull a trigger.
The disparity was immense. In the past, when Muggles were ignorant, wizards had to hide to survive. But in the future, as Muggle power grew, wizards would have no choice but to learn from them, adapt, and merge with the modern world—otherwise, they’d be swallowed whole by time.
Wade had even more dangerous thoughts, but he kept them locked away. He feared that if he spoke too boldly, Professor Mor’s favorable impression would vanish instantly—and he’d be labeled a “third-generation Dark Lord” or worse. That would be utterly unfair.
Yet even this broad, cautious response satisfied Professor Mor. He smiled warmly.
“I teach sixth and seventh years on Mondays and Thursdays. If you ever have questions, come to my office then. As long as you keep this passion alive, I’d be honored to spend two hours each week guiding you.”
Though he spoke with restrained modesty, the next moment he pulled a book titled Beginner’s Guide to Magical Item Crafting from his personal collection and handed it to Wade. He even scheduled a tutorial for Thursday. Only then did he let Wade leave.
As Wade stepped out, clutching the book, he glanced through the window toward the Black Lake, just beyond the Forbidden Forest.
And then he remembered—someone he’d seen that morning, standing by the lake at dawn.
Could that have been Professor Mor? The same silver-white hair…
Suddenly, Wade froze. His spine prickled. Goosebumps erupted across his skin.
When had he seen that figure? Afterward, he’d met Professor Mor—there’d been at least ten minutes in between. But the fever had been so intense, he couldn’t recall clearly.
Still—time couldn’t have been that long.
If that person was Professor Mor, how could he have arrived at Wade’s location in just ten minutes? Apparition was forbidden at Hogwarts. The old professor, with his aching limbs, would’ve taken ages to climb the stairs. And he didn’t seem like the kind to ride a broomstick like a reckless student.
But if it wasn’t Professor Mor…
And not Dumbledore…
Then who was it? Another professor Wade didn’t know? Or… something else?
Perhaps he was overthinking. Harry Potter’s first year was supposed to be peaceful—certainly for ordinary students.
Yet cold shivers still crept up his spine.
“Everything alright, Wade?” Professor Mor asked from behind him.
The voice, once so kind and gentle, now carried an unsettling undercurrent—almost sinister.
“Nothing,” Wade said, surprised at how calm his voice sounded. A faint note of gratitude even lingered beneath it. “I was just thinking—today morning, I’m glad you happened to pass by and found me. Were you just returning from outside?”
“Of course not,” Professor Mor replied, smiling easily, as if nothing were amiss. “I don’t live on campus. I only come to school when I have classes. Oh—my office fireplace is temporarily connected to the Floo Network. It’s a special permit from the Ministry. I’d just arrived this morning when I heard Griffiths shouting in the corridor. I stepped out and found you.”
(End of Chapter)
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