Chapter 7: When Will Dumbledore Retire Already?
Paddington Station.
"Hagrid… Ryan…" Harry began, putting down the hamburger he'd been eating. He chose his words carefully. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, and Mr. Ollivander… they all think I'm going to achieve great things, but…"
"But you don't know the first thing about magic and, until today, didn't even know the wizarding world existed?" Ryan finished for him, seeing the hesitation written all over Harry's face. He offered a comforting smile. "Don't worry about it. Every year at Hogwarts, there are plenty of Muggle-born students who, just like you, know nothing about magic before they get their letter."
"But they're often just as brilliant as any student from a wizarding family," Ryan continued. "Besides, in everyone's eyes, you're the hero who defeated Voldemort."
"But I don't know anything about what happened that night with Voldemort!" Harry blurted out. He immediately noticed Hagrid give two violent shudders and quickly added, "Sorry, sorry."
Hagrid just waved a large hand. "It's not your fault, Harry. It's just that Ryan here never calls him You-Know-Who."
Harry was puzzled. He couldn't understand why Hagrid—who in his mind was a powerful giant who had rescued him from the Dursleys—was so terrified of Voldemort's name. After all, two of the three people present were saying it without any problem.
"It's because Hagrid lived through that time," Ryan explained gently. "He still has lingering fears of… him. During the height of his power, he placed a curse on his own name, a Taboo. Anyone who dared to speak it would be instantly located."
Harry, now knowing firsthand the consequences of being found by Voldemort, nodded. He finally understood the source of Hagrid's terror.
"Your class of first-years will be different," Ryan said suddenly as the train pulled into the station. "Unlike in the past, when most wizards only made friends within their own House, some of you will build friendships across all four."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"Why?" Hagrid echoed.
"A secret," Ryan said with a faint, mysterious smile.
Together, he and Hagrid saw Harry, whose mind was now alight with a cat-like curiosity, onto the train home. Ryan waved as the train began to pull away. "I look forward to seeing you on September first."
Filled with an unstoppable sense of wonder and anticipation, Harry rode the train back to the Dursleys', where a month of sleepless, excitement-filled nights awaited him.
....
Hogwarts.
"You're going to see the Headmaster, too?" Ryan asked. He noticed that Hagrid hadn't gone back to his hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but was instead entering the castle with him, climbing the Grand Staircase.
"I am," Hagrid confirmed.
"Well then, let's go together." Ryan stepped ahead of him and addressed the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Lemon Drops!"
The gargoyle slowly spiraled upwards, revealing a moving stone staircase. The two of them ascended and knocked on the oak door with its griffin-shaped brass knocker. They entered the Headmaster's office.
Inside, spindly-legged tables were cluttered with silver instruments that whirred and puffed smoke. On the main desk lay a copy of the Daily Prophet. Behind the swirling smoke, Albus Dumbledore was interacting with Fawkes, his phoenix, who was hopping playfully on a golden perch.
"Ryan, Hagrid. To what do I owe the pleasure? And coming together, no less," Dumbledore said, a smile lighting up his face.
"Hagrid, you go first," Ryan said, pulling two chairs forward. He sat down in one, his posture completely relaxed, as if he were a regular visitor. "You sit too, Hagrid."
"Good heavens!" a portrait on the wall huffed indignantly. "Students these days have no respect for the Headmaster! This would never have stood when I was in charge…"
"Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black," Ryan retorted coolly, his mind briefly wondering, When will Dumbledore retire and let someone competent take over?, "if you maintain that attitude, perhaps in the future I'll consider having certain 'unfit' portraits removed from this office."
He casually picked up a teapot from the desk, poured a cup of tea for Hagrid and himself, and, under Dumbledore's faintly amused gaze, topped up the Headmaster's cup as well. He then turned to the phoenix. "Fawkes, would you care for some?"
"Dumbledore, do you see this?!" the portrait of Phineas Nigellus shrieked, waving its tiny painted cane furiously. "Are you the Headmaster of this school, or is he?!"
"Phineas, Ryan is just… very ambitious," Dumbledore said after a moment's hesitation, his brow smoothing as he found the right word.
All the other portraits of past Headmasters on the walls fell silent.
Ambitious was an understatement.
In all the generations of Headmasters, Ryan Welles was the only "problem student" to be summoned to the office during his first summer holiday, and the only one whose first words upon entering had been: "Professor Dumbledore, what do you think of me hanging my own portrait in that empty space on the east wall?"
At the time, Dumbledore had been trying to think of the right words to comfort an eleven-year-old boy who had just been threatened by the pure-blood faction at the Ministry. Ryan's question had plunged the entire office into a stunned silence.
"Hagrid, is the task complete?" Dumbledore asked now, breaking the quiet.
"Yes, sir. It is," Hagrid said, wringing his massive hands anxiously in the tense atmosphere. He quickly reached into his overcoat pocket and pulled out a grubby little paper package. "Got it right here."
"Can I go now, Dumbledore?"
"Of course, Hagrid. I may need your help again soon."
"I'm always available, sir."
After Hagrid left, Ryan tapped his fingers on the table. The collection of silver instruments neatly scooted to either side, clearing a space in the center.
"A very elegant Banishing Charm. Nonverbal and wandless, no less. Filius would award you ten points on the spot," Dumbledore complimented. "I have only met one or two other young men as gifted as you."
Ryan looked up, trying to read Dumbledore's expression, but all he could see were the deep lines of time and age. He couldn't tell if the statement was praise or a warning. Unwilling to touch that particular conversational bomb, he changed the subject. He summoned a stack of magically preserved ancient manuscripts from his ring and placed them in the cleared space on the desk.
"An alchemist's research notes from my latest trip," he said. "It looks like something that belongs in the Restricted Section."
"The usual arrangement?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.
"Of course, of course. Ryan, you have enriched our library immeasurably. One hundred points to Ravenclaw for the term," Dumbledore said. He took out a quill, scribbled a note on a slip of parchment, and handed it to Ryan. "And this."
The note read: I, Albus Dumbledore, hereby grant Ryan Welles permission to borrow any book from the library during his fifth year, including those from the Restricted Section.
"Ryan," Dumbledore said, his tone turning curious, "why do you do it? May I ask your reasons for always donating these books to Hogwarts?"
"Headmaster," Ryan replied, waving the permission slip, "the books I find, valuable as they are, cannot compare to the collection Hogwarts already possesses. I am a Ravenclaw. An eagle in pursuit of knowledge and wit. It is only natural that I would make the most logical choice."
"The most logical choice? That sounds remarkably like a Slytherin's reasoning," Dumbledore chuckled, his long white beard bobbing. He then slid a copy of the Daily Prophet across the desk toward Ryan.
"Perhaps you should read this, Ryan. An article about you, from a certain Slytherin graduate you recently interviewed."
Ryan frowned. Could that reporter truly be so foolish as to print baseless rumors for the sake of "buzz"?
He picked up the newspaper. The headline read: A Look Inside the Mind of Ryan Welles.