Chapter 9: Setting the Traps
Ryan felt as if he carried the weight of the entire wizarding world on his shoulders. He was working tirelessly, scheming endlessly, all for the noble cause of preserving the magical world's greatest treasures.
The Order of Merlin really ought to give him a one-ton medal, he thought, and maybe even create a new, higher class of award just for him.
After a short break, he left the Room of Requirement and headed to the library to borrow the very manuscript he had just donated. For the next several days, he fell into a simple, predictable routine: Ravenclaw Tower, the Room of Requirement, and the school kitchens.
On the afternoon of the seventh day, as he was grabbing some cocktail sausages from the kitchen, a gleaming silver phoenix Patronus appeared before him.
The phoenix opened its beak, and Dumbledore's voice echoed out: "Ryan, come to the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor."
Thinking about Professor Quirrell and his potential… issues, Ryan grabbed a plate of sizzling sausages, some croissants, and a large pitcher of juice-infused milk before making his way to the fourth floor.
From a distance, he could see seven figures: Headmaster Dumbledore, Hagrid, Professor Quirrell, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape.
Hagrid's really moving up in the world, sitting at the professor's table, Ryan thought, genuinely pleased to see him included.
"Headmaster, Professors, Hagrid," he announced, striding forward. "Why don't we have a bite to eat while we discuss everyone's ideas?"
He conjured a round table and several wooden stools, inviting everyone to sit.
Professor McGonagall's lips tightened into a thin line, and her eyes flashed with disapproval at his forwardness, though he could see a grudging respect for the Transfiguration he had just performed.
Professor Flitwick, ever supportive of his star pupil, readily agreed, saying it was an excellent idea for them to work out the best plan together.
Professor Sprout, always kind and patient, chuckled and said that Ryan's suggestion was a lovely one.
Professor Quirrell, however, looked utterly bewildered, as if he couldn't comprehend why a student was even present for such a matter.
Hagrid was smiling broadly, but his brow was furrowed with worry, concerned that Ryan's casual approach might offend the professors.
As for Professor Snape, his face was, as always, a mask of cold indifference. At the very least, he wasn't openly sneering or making sarcastic comments.
"A splendid idea, Ryan. Let's eat and talk," Dumbledore said, taking a seat at the head of the table. "Though, we might need a bit more food, and the table is a little small."
"Minerva," he said, turning to McGonagall, "children will always have their flights of fancy. Why be so stern? Think of it as an impromptu afternoon tea."
He drew his wand and tapped the table. The small round table instantly elongated into a grand banquet table that stretched down the corridor, complete with a fine tablecloth. Platters of fried chicken, grilled fish, mashed potatoes, and roasted meats appeared as if from nowhere.
"Quirinus, let's start with you," Dumbledore said, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of roast beef. "Let's hear what fresh ideas you've brought back from your travels."
"P-Professor…" Quirrell stammered, his stutter far worse than it had been in the Leaky Cauldron. "I… I d-don't have any…brilliant ideas. D-during my t-travels, I… I encountered a… a troll. I thought… a troll… could be the ch-challenge."
He looked as if he was about to pass out from the effort of speaking.
Dumbledore simply nodded without comment. "Hagrid, what about you?"
Hagrid, who had been feeling a bit insecure about his own contribution, visibly perked up after hearing Quirrell's idea. He puffed out his chest and boomed, "Dumbledore! I've brought Fluffy! He's a three-headed dog!"
Dumbledore raised his glass of juice-milk in a salute to Hagrid, then turned his gaze to Ryan at the far end of the table. "Ryan, what are your thoughts?"
"Headmaster, what do you think of this Nightmare Mirror?" Ryan asked, producing a mirror whose surface constantly swirled and shifted. He levitated it over to Dumbledore.
"Ah, Filius mentioned this to me," Dumbledore said, taking the mirror and examining it closely. "The one made with a Boggart's core. With enough magical power, it can even manifest a person's greatest fears into physical reality. A fine idea, a true test of courage."
He paused, his fingers tracing the edge of the mirror. "However, Ryan, the power of this mirror is a bit… much. Reflecting inner fears is sufficient; there's no need to make them tangible. I will temporarily seal some of its functions." He murmured an incantation and passed a hand over the mirror's surface. A soft light glowed, and the swirling within the glass calmed significantly.
He returned the mirror to Ryan. "How you arrange the chamber will be a test of your own magical skill."
Following that, the four Heads of House presented their own ideas: Devil's Snare, a life-sized game of Wizard's Chess, flying keys, and a logic puzzle, each with its own unique flair.
After their brief afternoon tea, the group of eight proceeded deeper into the corridor. Hagrid's three-headed dog was given a designated area to guard, and Professor Sprout found a suitably dark and damp spot for her Devil's Snare to thrive.
In the next empty chamber, Professor Flitwick drew his wand. He began to wave it with a rhythmic, graceful motion. Though there was no sound, the feeling was like listening to a grand symphony. It was a complex harmony of spells weaving into a musical score, of magical energy shaping itself into invisible notes. Ryan closed his eyes and could feel the waves of powerful, intricate magic washing over the room, imbuing hundreds of keys with a life of their own, making them dance and flutter like a swarm of metallic birds.
A true Charms Master, a dueling champion… Ryan opened his eyes as Professor Flitwick's spellwork concluded, marveling at the cloud of enchanted keys that now filled the room.
In the following room, Professor McGonagall demonstrated the true meaning of mastery in Transfiguration. With a casual flick of her wand, loose stones on the floor rose and shaped themselves into towering chess pieces. With another wave, the pieces came to life, arranging themselves into a fully functional, enchanted wizard's chessboard.
That's a permanent enchantment, Ryan realized, a simple form of alchemy that allows a magical effect to last for years… He compared it to his own abilities and quickly gave up. He could only achieve a similar effect through complex rituals and specific material components, and even then, the magic wouldn't last long. And here were Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall, performing these incredible feats with mere flicks of their wands.
Your professors are still your professors, he thought, his mind already calculating how he could learn each of their unique skills. I really need to step up my game.
The group came to the next room, which Professor Quirrell claimed for his troll. They moved on, and just as Ryan was about to step forward to set up his own trial, he was stopped by Professor Snape.
Snape strode past him and conjured a long table. From his robes, he produced seven different potions and a slip of parchment, arranging them carefully. He then sealed both the entrance and exit of the room with curtains of magical fire. Although it lacked the effortless grace of Flitwick and McGonagall's magic, Ryan could feel the distinct thrum of the Dark Arts in the unnaturally potent flames.
It was said that the Dark Arts corroded the emotions of the caster, and the Unforgivable Curses required extreme malice to perform. Yet, Snape showed no signs of being affected. Perhaps it was because he was using standard charms as a conduit, or perhaps, as a master of Occlumency, he had perfect control over his own emotions.
It's true, Ryan thought with a sense of deep respect. Every one of these professors is a master of their generation. If I ever want to take over as Headmaster, I still have a very, very long way to go.
Adopting the mindset of a humble student, Ryan committed the professors' spellcasting techniques to memory, replaying their every move in his mind.