Chapter 15: A Sleepless Night
Ravenclaw Common Room.
"I wonder who Ryan will send invitations to?"
"I wouldn't dare to even hope for an invitation. I'm just praying his admission test isn't too difficult."
Just then, someone chimed in, "Don't worry. Ryan's idea of 'not difficult' is probably the same as his idea of the end-of-year exams being something 'you could pass with your hands tied behind your back.'"
The comment was met with a collective groan from everyone in the room.
During the final exams of his first year, Ryan—a product of a hyper-competitive educational culture in his past life—had genuinely thought the questions were insultingly simple. He had forgotten that, unlike him, the other students were actual eleven-year-old children, raised in the "happy education" environment of Hogwarts, which often felt more like "letting the inmates run the asylum." His peers weren't completely clueless, but let's just say their knowledge had a few... gaps.
From that moment on, "you could pass it with your hands tied behind your back" became a classic Ravenclaw taunt directed at the other houses.
"Oh, Merlin, please let him be reasonable this time..."
"Penelope, do you think you'll get in?" a girl asked, flopping dramatically onto a sofa. "I feel like I have absolutely no chance."
Penelope snorted. "I don't want to go."
"Hmm?" The girl shot up from the sofa like a vulture spotting fresh prey, suddenly full of energy. Her eyes gleamed as she grabbed Penelope's arm. "Spill it! On the train, you were practically glued to him. You two were... in-sep-ar-a-ble." She deliberately dragged out the last word.
Penelope's face flushed crimson. She tackled her friend, trying desperately to cover her mouth.
"He's as dense as a plank of wood! What's so great about him?!" Penelope muttered furiously while wrestling with her friend.
The commotion quickly attracted the attention of the other Ravenclaws.
"What's going on?"
"Penelope," a younger student asked hopefully, "do you think he'll give us private tutoring? Preferably one-on-one?"
"Tutoring struggling students is the prefects' job," Penelope said, getting to her feet and smoothing her disheveled hair. She pulled the first-year over to Pablo Pierce. "Pablo is the Ravenclaw prefect."
....
Gryffindor Common Room.
"Oh, Harry, you'll definitely get an invitation," Ron said confidently. "You already got a prophecy from him."
"When he said he'd send invitations based on 'certain impressions,'" Ron explained, "he meant he's already foreseen which students are going to achieve something." He slumped in his chair. "I, on the other hand, have no chance at all. I can't believe I even got into Gryffindor. Why would he ever invite me?"
"Our dear Ronniekins," one of the Weasley twins began, "you must have faith. Our great Prefect Percy has enough prestige to pull some strings for his little brother."
Percy's face went scarlet. "George! Being a prefect is not a tool for personal gain!"
"I'm Fred, Percy."
"I'm George."
The twins continued their double act. "Surely our Prefect Percy doesn't actually think he has enough clout with Ryan to ask for an invitation."
"No, no, George. It's that our dear Percy thinks being a prefect is a very important position, especially to those of us who aren't prefects."
From a corner, Harry watched the Weasley family dynamic unfold.
"Joining the Adventurers' Club is obviously a fantastic way to learn more..." Hermione Granger muttered to herself nearby. She seemed anxious, her words tumbling out in a rush as she nervously recited spells she'd read in her textbooks, as if only this could give her the confidence to sleep soundly tonight and face the bulletin board tomorrow. Long after she had gone up to the girls' dormitory, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
...
Slytherin Common Room.
"Crabbe, do you really think a noble pure-blood should join a club run by an orphan, a Mudblood?" Malfoy asked, one eyebrow arched haughtily.
"I... I..."
"Goyle, what do you think?" Malfoy pressed.
"Ryan's pretty famous," Goyle mumbled around a mouthful of tea cake.
Malfoy sneered. "When he was a first-year, if Dumbledore hadn't protected him, my father would have had him expelled. He might have even been sent to Azkaban."
This claim was met with murmurs of approval from the other Slytherins. For years, they had been forced to endure the feeling of a Mudblood orphan lording over them. What was even more infuriating was Ryan's indifference to their blood status, and the faint, almost imperceptible pity in his eyes when he looked at them.
When students from other houses encountered Slytherins, they reacted with either disgust or fear. In the minds of the Slytherins, this was a form of reverence for their bloodline and their families.
But Ryan didn't do that.
Every time Ryan saw them, he treated them exactly the same as he treated students from any other house. As if they were no different at all.
How could that be?! How could a noble pure-blood be treated the same as the dregs of wizarding society?!
"The Malfoy family! Well done!"
"Leaders of the pure-bloods! The Malfoys!"
The young Slytherins were ecstatic, as if they had just achieved a great victory.
...
Hufflepuff Common Room.
The Hufflepuffs had raided the nearby school kitchens for snacks. They sat in a large circle, a unanimous agreement having been reached: when in doubt, eat.
After they had finished their food, the Badgers decided to head to bed. Tomorrow's problems could be dealt with tomorrow. Besides, they were on good terms with Ryan. If they couldn't pass his test, it wasn't the end of the world. The students who were really keen on joining could just camp out in the kitchens and ambush him for lessons. As fellow kitchen-raiders, surely Ryan wouldn't forget them, right?
Many of the Hufflepuffs who frequented the kitchens knew this from experience. It was often through them, after a late-night encounter over a stolen treacle tart, that Ryan would ask them to spread his prophecies. Even the loyal, just, and patient Hufflepuffs enjoyed the feeling of being in the know. As a result, Ryan's popularity among the Badgers was second only to his standing with the Ravenclaws.
.....
The Adventurers' Club.
Ryan was making the final adjustments to his test.
As for being out after hours in violation of school rules? Could you even call yourself a proper Hogwarts student if you didn't break a few rules? The standards of Hogwarts education were clearly declining. Both the "old seniors" and the "newly awakened Dark Lord" in his memories would agree: if a first-year at Hogwarts couldn't expertly cast a Killing Curse, hex a few people on their way to class, or massacre something in the Forbidden Forest, then they weren't fit for Azkaban, let alone Hogwarts.
Therefore, he had no guilt about it whatsoever. Rules were made to be broken. At most, he'd cast a Disillusionment Charm on the room to fool Filch into thinking it was empty.
"There are probably a few people agonizing over my admission test right now," he muttered to himself as he worked. "Some might even be pulling an all-nighter to revise."
"In truth," he said with a small smile, "I gave them the answer at the very beginning."
"I just wonder how many of them will figure it out by tomorrow…"