Ryan was in a hurry to return and summarize the information he had just acquired. What he had learned was especially important because it acted as a bridge between his knowledge of plants and magic, enabling him to transform his understanding of botany into actual magical power.
This kind of advanced magical knowledge was rarely accessible in daily life. Even if a professor held a student in high regard, the information they typically offered was merely an extension of classroom lessons. Unless they were certain about passing on their legacy, professors would never reveal such core knowledge.
That's why Ryan was a little surprised when the professor called him back. He could tell that the professor was just as eager to incorporate the insights Ryan had provided into his own research. Given that both of them were in a rush to return to their respective tasks, Ryan wondered why the professor was asking him to stay.
The answer came quickly when Principal Fernando entered the room, his expression serious. After seeing Ryan and the professor, he spoke directly, "Old Treebark, I came as soon as I received your message. Shall we begin?"
Old Treebark?
Ryan recalled that South Americans often used nicknames when addressing one another. A nickname related to plants likely meant the professor was a true authority in that field. But what exactly did the principal mean by "begin"?
Principal Fernando then turned to Ryan and explained, "Perhaps you don't realize this, but you've just completed a formal academic exchange between wizards. In such cases, if either party wishes to keep the exchanged knowledge confidential, magical enforcement can be invoked. Of course, this also means the other party must provide something of equal value in return."
As Ryan had suspected, the wizarding world maintained a strict barrier around the dissemination of knowledge. This likely explained why Muggle-born wizards lacked the depth of magical understanding to challenge the dominance of pure-blood families. Despite modern times, power in the wizarding world still firmly rested with the pure-blood elite.
It wasn't surprising, then, that magical advancement seemed so slow, and why so many people clung to the wisdom of ancient wizards. This form of inheritance often resulted in knowledge being lost, forcing future generations to repeat past research just to reach the same starting point. The waste of resources and time significantly hindered magical progress overall.
Though Ryan had many complaints about this conservatism, he was on someone else's turf and could only follow the rules.
Under the principal's guidance, Ryan and the professor joined hands, and Principal Fernando pointed his wand at the handshake.
Two hours later, Ryan left the office, rubbing his arm as he recalled the flame that had enveloped their hands. Just moments before, he and the professor had sealed an Unbreakable Vow—neither of them could disclose any of the knowledge they had shared.
Since the knowledge Ryan contributed was deemed more valuable, the professor was required to offer compensation. The principal used a magical artifact to assess the difference, and it was decided that the professor would make up the gap by providing Ryan with additional knowledge.
Ryan, understanding the value of magical insight, naturally chose knowledge as his reward. The professor, after some hesitation, retrieved a thin notebook but stipulated that Ryan could only read it in the office and was not permitted to take it with him.
Once the principal confirmed that the notebook was adequate compensation, Ryan spent over two hours carefully reading through it. He didn't leave until he was confident he had fully understood and memorized its contents.
The information in the notebook laid the groundwork for everything the professor had just discussed. With this foundation, Ryan could immediately begin studying how to use botany to enhance his magical abilities, bypassing the time-consuming process of reverse-engineering theoretical principles.
But for now, the most pressing need was food. Ryan had been working non-stop all morning and was starving. Thinking this, he headed straight to the Great Hall.
Inside the hall, he bumped into Hermione, who had just finished her Transfiguration class and was also heading to lunch. When she saw him, she asked, "What were you doing upstairs with the professor? You missed the rest of Transfiguration."
"I've been hungry all morning," Ryan replied, glancing at the crowd around them. "Let me eat first."
Hermione noticed the number of students nearby and realized it wasn't a good place for a private discussion, so she nodded and quietly began eating as well.
After quickly scarfing down their food, Ryan and Hermione walked back toward the carriages to grab their books for the afternoon classes. Along the way, Ryan recounted the events of the morning. He emphasized how confidential magical knowledge was in the wizarding world and showed her the still-glowing mark of the Unbreakable Vow on his arm as proof.
Hermione looked troubled after hearing Ryan's story. "Does this mean that Muggle-borns will always be at a disadvantage compared to pure-bloods? Based on what you've seen, it seems pure-blood families are hoarding vast amounts of knowledge that we'll never be allowed to access. No matter how hard Muggle-born wizards try, we might never change the status quo."
"You don't have to worry so much," Ryan started, hoping to brush it off, but then he noticed Hermione's solemn expression. He suddenly remembered how, back in fourth year, she had set herself a lifelong goal. That level of maturity meant she deserved a serious conversation. With a sigh, he changed tack.
"You're right to be concerned," Ryan admitted, and then began explaining a series of unsettling truths. "I got some information from Percy. It turns out that although there are quite a few Muggle-borns working at the Ministry of Magic, they mostly serve in low-level positions—like Obliviators, Aurors, and clerks. Department heads are overwhelmingly pure-blood. In the Wizengamot and the Department of Mysteries—two of the most important branches—members are almost exclusively from old magical families. The rare exceptions are Muggle-borns who married into pure-blood lineages and now represent those families."
Ryan paused, then added, "Come to think of it, in the original story, Hermione only became Minister for Magic after marrying Ron. It's likely that the influence of the Weasley family—the most prominent pure-blood family post-war—was a crucial factor in her rise."
"It's the same with money," he continued. "Shops on Diagon Alley are mostly inherited from generation to generation by pure-blood families. Muggles and Muggle-borns, at best, end up working there as employees."
Hermione's expression grew darker, but Ryan wasn't finished. "And as much as we hate to talk about dark magic, there's something else. Every year, a significant number of those imprisoned in Azkaban for using dark magic are Muggle-born. Take Knockturn Alley as an example—most of the petty dark wizards there are Muggle-born."
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. "How is that possible? I thought dark magic was mostly practiced by Slytherins, and they're all pure-blood or at least half-blood."
Ryan and Hermione had reached their compartment by this time. After sitting down at the table in Ryan's dormitory, he poured two glasses of water and took a sip before replying.
"I get it—it sounds unbelievable. But let me explain my reasoning. You'll understand."
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