Chapter 8: Headmaster? I Can Take His Place
Orphaned at a young age, he shines brightly at Hogwarts. Without a doubt, even without his prophetic talents, he would still be one of Hogwarts' most undeniable geniuses—a talent great enough to define an era. His powerful gift of prophecy has only served to thrust him into the public eye even sooner…
A genius who can define an era, with prophecy as the cherry on top... Ryan had a sudden, violent urge to find that reporter and throttle him. He knew exactly what was happening. That shrewd Slytherin was trying to curry favor. By magnifying Ryan's other talents, he hoped people would see past the "Seer" label and recognize Ryan's abilities as a brilliant wizard.
Objectively, the article was well-written and would give most wizards a more complete picture of who he was. Under normal circumstances, Ryan would have been grateful.
But these were not normal circumstances! Those two descriptions—"era-defining genius" and "charismatic leader"—were not good things to be called in front of Albus Dumbledore! Having both traits at once was like painting a giant, glowing target on his back, with a special effect that guaranteed Dumbledore's undivided attention.
"How unusual," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "From what I know, young Mr. Aslott joined the Daily Prophet right after graduation, studying under Rita Skeeter. It's rare to see him write an article so… factually accurate."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Slytherin's cunning and ambition should not be used to distort reality. We should all respect the truth. His previous articles were subpar, but this time, he has done very well."
No, no, no! He has definitely exaggerated! Ryan thought frantically.
Aloud, he said, "Headmaster, I believe Mr. Aslott has overstated things. I'm just an ordinary Ravenclaw student who happens to have a slight knack for seeing things."
Dumbledore merely smiled. "Humility is a virtue, Ryan, but excessive modesty is not." With that, he opened the small package Hagrid had given him. "Ryan, I need you to design a trial to help protect the Philosopher's Stone."
The Philosopher's Stone!
Ryan's first instinct was to imagine turning it into a personal, external power source. With it, he could out-magic ninety-nine percent of all wizards, not to mention the whole immortality thing. He stared at the blood-red stone, pulsing with raw magic, and felt a dizzying wave of desire. He quickly suppressed it. Not taking things that didn't belong to him was a fundamental moral baseline.
His goal was to learn alchemy later and create a Philosopher's Stone of his very own.
"Of course, Headmaster," he said. "What are the requirements for this trial?"
"It should test things like courage, love, and knowledge, rather than raw magical power," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And it would be best if it were something a first-year student had the ability to pass."
What?
Hearing these requirements, Ryan honestly thought Dumbledore had finally gone senile and that it was time for him to step up and take over the position of Headmaster of Hogwarts.
A trial to protect the Philosopher's Stone… that a first-year could pass? Had he had a falling out with Nicolas Flamel? Was he actively trying to give the Stone away?
Uncertain, he asked again, only to receive the same answer. Ryan could only conclude that Dumbledore's age was finally catching up to him. "When and where do you need it?"
"I'll notify you in a few days. Was there anything else?"
"Actually, yes," Ryan said. "Given the current situation with the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, I would like to form a student club. It would be a place to practice magic, and also a way to break down the barriers between the four Houses."
"A club?" Dumbled_ore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "I would certainly welcome anything that unites the four Houses. The relationships between some of them have become far too rigid."
"But, Ryan, how would you manage it? A group of young wizards practicing magic together without a professor's supervision… it could be very, very dangerous. Even with you there."
"So I need to prove that I have the power to control the situation?" Ryan asked. He was relieved that Dumbledore hadn't immediately refused. As long as there was room to negotiate, there was hope.
"Precisely," Dumbledore agreed. "You will need to demonstrate your abilities to several of the professors. You can do so when you are all setting up the trials. How does that sound?"
"No problem at all," Ryan said.
"If you decide to call it the 'Seers' Club,' I imagine even Sybill wouldn't be able to object," Dumbledore added with a grin, pulling a bag of sweets from a drawer and popping one into his mouth. "Care for one?"
"No, thank you. I should be going."
After Ryan left, one of the portraits spoke up. "Albus, why would you involve a child in the protection of the Philosopher's Stone? And why ask that the trials be easy enough for a first-year?"
"Ryan… he reminds me so much of others," Dumbledore said, closing his eyes. "I may have made mistakes in the past. This time, I want to be a successful professor. I want to raise a good student."
"Furthermore," he continued, "when he looked upon the Stone, the desire in his eyes lasted for only a fleeting moment. That is enough for me to trust his character."
"Therefore, when one has great ability, they should be guided to grow, not threatened with force, nor left to their own devices..." His voice trailed off into a barely audible whisper as he leaned back in his chair.
As if sensing its master's melancholy, Fawkes fluttered down into Dumbledore's lap, rubbing his soft, feathery head against his cheek.
....
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Ryan made his way to the eighth floor. He walked past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls three times, silently chanting in his mind: The storeroom belonging to Ryan Welles, Number 10086, with a portrait of myself in the center.
A door materialized on the smooth stone wall. He pushed it open and stepped inside.
This was the Room of Requirement. He believed it to be a creation of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. One only needed to think of the room they needed in detail, and a door to it would appear. To prevent anyone else from stumbling in, Ryan had not only placed a magical portrait inside to act as a monitor, but had also named it "Storeroom Number 10086."
That way, even if someone miraculously guessed the strange sequence of numbers and entered, the portrait would alert him to the intruder.
In the center of the room was a massive portrait of Ryan himself, dressed in the mysterious, flowing robes of a Seer, surrounded by artistic depictions of crystal balls and Tarot cards. The room itself was divided into four semi-enclosed sections: a Potions area, an Alchemy lab, a Dueling practice space, and a lounge area.
Ryan took three quick strides, followed by a great leap, and crashed onto the sofa in the lounge. On the low table in front of him sat a proposal, titled: The Hogwarts Headmaster's Growth and Development Plan.
Beneath the title, in smaller font, was a subtitle: I Can Take His Place!
And beneath that, a handwritten annotation: To make magic great again, we must start with the children!
"Headmaster Dumbledore himself invited me to participate in the protection of the Philosopher's Stone," Ryan mused aloud. "Even if it's just a childish game of protection, it's enough to prove that his trust in me outweighs his suspicion. It means he's finally drawn a line between me and the last two Dark Lords."
A wave of relief washed over Ryan. He had no reason to conflict with Dumbledore, and no need to.
"If I remember correctly," he said to himself, "the mission to protect the Stone fails this year, doesn't it?"
Piecing together his fragmented memories, he suspected that Quirrell succeeded in stealing the Stone, which led Nicolas Flamel to decide that perhaps he had lived long enough and it was time for him to shuffle off this mortal coil.
That won't do at all, Ryan thought. Master Nicolas Flamel cannot embark on his next great adventure just yet.