Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Essence of Alchemy
Stepping through the old wooden door, a living room styled in medieval fashion, suffused with an air of mystery and strangeness, unfolded before the eyes. Inside, tapestries hung that moved ceaselessly, their surfaces emblazoned with magical images in motion and bizarre runic symbols.
In a corner of the living room stood a workbench cluttered with alchemical apparatus, a gleaming crystal orb resting atop it. At the center of the room, a wooden spiral staircase led upward to the second floor. At this moment, a frail old man was slowly descending, inch by inch, step by step.
“Good morning, you two!” Though his gait was unsteady, the old man’s spirits were high as he greeted Siwen and Newt with warmth.
Newt hurried to the staircase, carefully assisting the feeble old man. “It’s been a while, Flamel,” Newt said with a smile once he had helped him.
“It seems it has,” Flamel replied with a nostalgic smile, then glanced at Newt. “But you know, for me, it’s not been so long.”
“Yes, ten years is hardly a stretch for you,” Newt laughed knowingly.
Siwen stood upright downstairs, displaying a reserved smile as he spoke politely, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Flamel.”
“Ah, you must be Mr. Rosier!” Flamel replied with a kindly smile. “Albus has mentioned your talents with ancient runes and alchemy.”
With shuffling steps, he moved toward a wooden door at the edge of the living room. “No need to be so formal, Mr. Rosier,” Flamel said as he pushed the door open, turning to Siwen and Newt. “Come in! Newt, if you wish to study alchemy, you may join us as well.”
“Er, actually I need to tend to my animals,” Newt replied apologetically, flashing Flamel a smile before patting Siwen on the shoulder and disappearing into his own suitcase.
Flamel watched Newt slip into his case with a gentle smile before beckoning to Siwen. “Newt is a fine young man,” he remarked once Siwen entered the room. “Even after all these years, I rarely encounter someone as kind as he.”
Siwen nodded in agreement.
Newt seemed to care for every magical creature as if it were his own child; the affection in his gaze could melt anyone’s heart. Because of this, Siwen felt especially at ease leaving the little cat in Newt’s suitcase.
Beyond the wooden door lay a workshop. Inside was a table brimming with alchemical equipment and a wooden cupboard. Beside the table stood a broad window, through which bright daylight flooded the entire workspace.
“Sit, make yourself comfortable,” Flamel gestured to the wooden chair beside the table, addressing Siwen.
Siwen took a seat, only to realize Flamel had no intention of sitting himself. “Won’t you sit?” Siwen quickly stood and asked.
“I’m old; my body’s grown stiff, and my joints don’t bend easily. I seldom sit,” Flamel shook his head. “Sit, don’t mind me.”
Siwen finally understood why Flamel always walked with such small, careful steps, his body somewhat rigid. “It’s all right, I’d rather stand,” Siwen insisted, remaining by Flamel’s side.
“All right, all right. You’re a bit too reserved,” Flamel chuckled, then went straight to the point. “I hear you have a strong grasp of ancient runes, is that so?”
“Yes,” Siwen nodded. “I also know Sanskrit and seal script.”
Flamel’s eyes showed genuine surprise as he exclaimed, “To master languages that others find elusive their whole lives, and three of them at that, at such a young age—remarkable!”
‘After all, I spent twenty years at Kamar-Taj studying them…’ Siwen thought to himself with a slightly embarrassed smile.
After his praise, Flamel turned to Siwen and asked, “I’d like to know, to what extent do you understand alchemy?”
Siwen pondered for a moment before replying, “I’ve read many books about alchemy. Most describe it as a branch of magic and an ancient science, concerning the study of the composition, structure, and magical properties of the four basic elements, as well as the transmutation of matter.”
Flamel shook his head gently. “I don’t mean for you to recite definitions from books. Tell me, what do you personally understand about alchemy?”
“Ah, I see…” Siwen faltered, his expression awkward. “I used to think alchemy was merely a medieval philosophical approach to chemistry, the precursor to modern chemistry.”
“You’re familiar with Muggle knowledge as well?” Flamel looked at Siwen in surprise. “I must admit, Muggles possess much extraordinary knowledge, some of which may surpass that of wizards.”
“Have you studied Muggle knowledge?” Siwen was even more astonished than Flamel.
Who would have thought the most renowned master of alchemy in the magical world had researched Muggle knowledge? One could only imagine what the pureblood extremists might say if they heard…
“Every community has its own unique wisdom,” Flamel replied with a smile and nod. “Go on. Apart from your understanding of Muggle alchemy, do you have any other insights?”
“I believe magical alchemy is a distinct branch of magic, much like potion-making,” Siwen continued. “The books often say that the study of alchemy represents a spiritual journey; but rather than such broad concepts, I think it’s more akin to enchanting materials.”
“By inscribing magic runes—such as ancient runes, Sanskrit, or seal script—onto materials to allow them to store and release magical power, then arranging specific circuits to grant them magical functions, one creates alchemical products…”
Flamel nodded in approval as he listened to Siwen’s explanation.
“That’s about the extent of my understanding—though I’m not sure if it’s correct,” Siwen concluded modestly.
“A fine understanding, Mr. Rosier,” Flamel laughed, giving Siwen a look of appreciation. “You need not belittle yourself; your grasp of alchemy surpasses that of many so-called alchemists.”
“Alchemy originally sought to transform base metals into gold or silver; or to create an elixir that could cure all diseases and indefinitely prolong life; and to discover a universal solvent,” Flamel explained. “But as time passed, the definition and goals of alchemy have changed and evolved.”
“Now, what we call alchemy is, in essence, the act of granting life to matter.”
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