Wednesday, after another decent "drama lesson" from Lockhart, Aiden decided to start a new project to change his mood. Under his training, Oliver had become a qualified assistant—or, more accurately, a tool man—able to participate in Aiden's research and development and even carry out some small projects on his own.
That afternoon, Aiden took Oliver to the Room of Requirement.
"I feel like this place has become your personal territory, Aiden," Oliver joked.
"It's better than having my own territory burned down," Aiden replied with a nonsensical remark that Oliver chose to ignore. The two of them arrived at the laboratory the room had prepared for them.
"So," Oliver asked, "what did you suddenly call me here for?"
"I had an idea," Aiden said, scratching his head.
"Oh, what kind of wild experiment is it this time?" Oliver sighed, already beginning to list Aiden's past transgressions. "Let's see, last time, you wanted to use the sun's magic to improve a wizard's physique. The time before that, you wanted to steal the power of the Distorted Illusion to forcibly separate Filch's mind and soul. And the time before that, you were planning to create a mind bomb that could destroy a city..." He held his forehead. "Aiden Prewett, are you planning to become the next Dark Lord? I have no desire to go to Azkaban for 'further study' with you before I find the Resurrection Stone."
"Ahem, those are all just research," Aiden coughed, changing the subject. "How can research be related to the Dark Lord? Anyway, don't worry about that today. I plan to make some clothing as a new benefit for our organization." He pushed his monocle up his nose.
"Oh? Isn't this monocle enough?" Oliver asked, playing with the one in his pocket.
"The monocle is just one identifier," Aiden said. "We need a uniform."
"Like the Hogwarts school uniforms?" Oliver retorted. "So when we go out, people will think we're a group of primary school students on a field trip?"
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Aiden raised an eyebrow. "You're a bit aggressive today, buddy."
"Even the most peaceful person in the world would become like me after being dragged along for your experiments," Oliver said wearily. "Believe me, you should never reveal your more... dangerous ideas in front of outsiders."
"Okay, okay," Aiden waved his hand dismissively and pushed Oliver toward an experiment table. "Today, we're just making a piece of clothing. There won't be any danger."
"So, where are the clothes?" Oliver asked.
"Wait, we'll weave them later. First, we need to process the materials." Aiden reached into his seemingly omnipotent pocket and took out... a ball of thread.
Oliver's last shred of patience snapped. "Thread? Are you planning to hand-knit a sweater for every single person in the organization to show your love for them? When you hand it over, you can tell them, 'This was personally knitted by our dear leader for you. Please cherish it.'"
"Oh, young man, have a little patience," Aiden said mysteriously. "How about you listen to my idea first?" Oliver just crossed his arms, his expression clearly saying, 'Spit it out, then.'
"Alright, we're going to work our magic on the thread itself. We'll engrave runes into each individual strand and then weave them into clothing. A wizard's battle has one major weakness: it's difficult to cast spells that affect a large area of enemies simultaneously. If alchemy can make each thread a separate protective entity, it would be the equivalent of wearing multiple protective items at once."
'In simple terms, durability,' the System added helpfully in Aiden's mind.
"So," Oliver said, his voice laced with disbelief, "you plan to engrave runes on countless threads, one by one, for an entire piece of clothing?" He looked at his friend, suspecting that spending so much time with the headmaster had finally muddled his brain with sweets.
"Of course not," Aiden scoffed. "That's why I'm going to introduce my second idea. Oliver, have you ever seen a Muggle assembly line?"
"Of course, but don't tell me you're planning to start an industrial revolution in the wizarding world. Have you invented a steam engine?" Oliver asked, full of doubt.
"No, but we don't need a steam engine, buddy. Wizards have magic—a natural, efficient, and pollution-free source of energy. What we need to do is design an engraving system. As for the power source..." Aiden took out the glowing magic crystal he'd acquired from his experiments with Arsesi. "I've already solved that."
"What is this?" Oliver picked up the crystal and tapped it. A soft, golden light, like captured sunlight, slowly overflowed from it.
"A crystal of sun magic," Aiden said proudly, his hands on his hips.
"...Alright, let's try it," Oliver said after a moment, a flicker of excitement in his eyes.
The two of them joined hands and began to manufacture their runic engraving machine. Aiden took out a large piece of mithril he had left over—a metal stronger than steel but as light as a feather, emitting a charming light under the laboratory lamps.
"Mithril!" Oliver exclaimed, his alchemist's desire for rare materials beginning to emerge. "How did you get this? I heard Gryffindor's sword was made of this stuff. The Goblins have been demanding it back for a thousand years."
"Perhaps we should thank ancestral blessings," Aiden said playfully.
He took out his wand and began to melt the mithril, adding it between the machine's engraving knife and its basic magic circuit to increase its magical load capacity. He then hollowed out the needle of the engraving machine, creating a tiny channel that would allow an alchemical preparation to flow through it and directly into the object being engraved.
"Well, it's done," Aiden said, wiping a smudge from his face. "I'm going to call it... Aiden One."
"That's a terrible name," Oliver commented sharply.
"Okay, okay, I'll be the bigger person," Aiden said, putting his hands together in a pleading gesture.
"Take this seriously," Oliver insisted. "Don't let our greatest technological innovation start with a regrettable name."
"Alas, fine. Let's be a little more technical, then. How about... the Jenny—" Oliver glared, and Aiden instantly restrained himself. "The Alchemical Weaver 1.0, is that okay?" he asked, having racked his brain for a decent name.
"So-so," Oliver sighed in relief.
"Okay, let's try out our treasure."
Aiden threw the ball of thread into the machine's input and placed the magic crystal into its energy slot. At the same time, he added the alchemical preparation to the ink storage box at the top.
"...Why isn't there any reaction?" Oliver asked, confused.
"Um," Aiden said, his face a mask of dawning horror. "I forgot to turn on the switch." Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
Oliver, unable to stand it any longer, stepped forward and pressed the start button himself. A low buzzing sound filled the room, and the thread began to be continuously rolled into the machine. The engraving needle sprang to life, carving tiny Algiz (ᛉ), Laguz (ᛚ), and Ingwaz (ᛜ) runes onto each strand.
"Protection and intuition," Oliver said, picking up a thin thread and carefully examining the runes. "Are you planning to create a protective suit that can be triggered automatically?"
"Not only that," Aiden introduced proudly. "Laguz (ᛚ) also has the effect of 'flow,' which will allow the clothes to autonomously adapt to the wearer's body. And Ingwaz (ᛜ) represents 'abundance,' which will allow broken threads to grow back automatically."
"Make one, and let's try it," Oliver urged.
Aiden took out his wand and, using one of Molly's family heirloom weaving spells, began to work. The threads spat out by the machine danced in the air, intertwining into cloth. The cloth then curled into the shape of clothing, the excess parts automatically breaking off while other threads shook themselves loose to sew the joints together.
"One of the must-learn spells for a housewife," Oliver said, raising an eyebrow. "It seems Edmund was right. You are indeed very virtuous."
"Just take it," Aiden said, throwing the newly woven robe at Oliver. "I make you clothes, and this is the thanks I get? You can't even shut your mouth."
Oliver draped the robe over his body. The clothes quickly tightened, automatically adapting to his form and beginning to change. When the transformation was complete, a handsome, perfectly tailored suit appeared on Oliver.
"It seems the experiment was very successful," Oliver said, raising his hands and turning a few circles to admire his new outfit.
(End of Chapter)
***
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