Chapter 17: The Applications
Three days passed in a flash.
The first-years, their academic workload still light, were mostly enjoying their newfound magical lives. Only those who had grown up without magic worried about keeping up.
The older students, however, felt the academic pressure returning after the brief novelty of a new term had worn off. The fifth and seventh years, in particular, were facing their two most critical exams. The former would determine if they could advance to higher-level courses, while the latter would decide their career prospects after graduation.
For this very reason, these two year-groups were the most desperate to join the Adventurers' Club. It was clearly a club that sought out capable students, a place where they could study and work together. This, when translated from academic-speak, simply meant: the club is full of geniuses who can carry the slackers.
More importantly, there was no school rule stating that it was cheating if a Seer happened to prophesy the exam questions in advance. Most self-proclaimed seers could only produce vague, foggy predictions, utterly useless for something as precise as an exam. It was just that one particular Seer's prophetic ability happened to be exceptionally... clear.
Countless students were fantasizing about getting a pre-exam cram session with Ryan.
Fifth-Year Transfiguration. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had the class together.
Professor McGonagall was in a particularly strict mood, causing the students who still hadn't mastered the Summoning Charm to tremble in their boots.
"What does Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration state?" she snapped, pausing by a Hufflepuff student who was trying to conjure food out of thin air. "You wish to create food from nothing? You will hand in a three-foot-long essay on the fundamental laws of Transfiguration in our next lesson."
The Hufflepuff in question, now the proud recipient of a three-foot-long essay assignment, burst into tears of overwhelming... joy.
A wave of panicked energy swept the classroom. Every student was now pouring a thousand percent of their focus into successfully summoning something edible, or at the very least, avoiding an essay assignment.
As Professor McGonagall approached, Ryan calmly transfigured a perfectly baked loaf of bread.
"Well done, Mr. Welles. Ten points to Ravenclaw," Professor McGonagall said with a rare note of high praise.
After she had moved on, a fellow Ravenclaw whispered, "Ryan, do you have a trick for that?"
"After learning Professor McGonagall's formal method," Ryan said earnestly, "I do have one little tip."
Everyone nearby leaned in, straining their ears.
"The trick is to lock yourself in a dark room and tell yourself you won't get any food until you can conjure some. It's guaranteed to work."
He was being completely serious. From his perspective, a wizard's emotional state was crucial to their spellcasting, especially when learning new magic. A strong emotional impetus often fueled success. It was just like how young, untrained wizards often caused uncontrollable magical phenomena around them when they were upset or excited. From this viewpoint, magic was a power of the mind.
And yet, the existence of laws like Gamp's, which stated that food was one of the five exceptions and could not be created from nothing, seemed to pull magic back into the realm of the physical world.
Can matter truly not be created from nothing? Ryan's mind drifted to the Philosopher's Stone. Is magic a form of matter? If so, how did Nicolas Flamel imbue the Stone with such immense power hundreds of years ago? And if it's not matter... then what is it?
Ryan was lost in thought.
After class, he made his way to the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor and entered his private study, "Sub-level Archive 7." He immediately recorded his burgeoning questions, detailing the philosophical conflict he had just encountered. He then closed the thick notebook, on whose cover was written: Ryan's Inquiries.
He placed the notebook back on its shelf, alongside several others: Ryan's Whimsical Designs, Ryan's Schematics, and Ryan's Magical Framework.
"The closer one gets to magic," he murmured to himself, "the more one realizes their own insignificance."
He allowed his mind to wander for a full fifteen minutes, then gestured for the stack of applications to fly into his hands. It was time to grade the papers.
"Become a Ministry official?" The first application was from a seventh-year. "No proof of feasibility, no logical argument. Is this guy making a wish?" Ryan shook his head and placed the parchment in the "rejected" pile.
"I want to pass my final exams?" Rejected.
"I hope to open my own wizarding shop?" Rejected.
After sorting through nearly a hundred such wish lists, Ryan finally came across an application with a logical framework. It was from the Gryffindor prefect, Percy Weasley. After reading it through, Ryan was at a loss for words. Percy had detailed, with meticulous logic, a plan for how to achieve high marks at Hogwarts in order to secure a position at the Ministry and climb the career ladder.
While the plan was logical and highly feasible, it was the exact opposite of what Ryan was looking for. It treated magic not as the ultimate pursuit, but as a stepping stone to personal ambition. There was nothing wrong with that—every wizard had their own path. But it wasn't the path of an adventurer. Ryan hesitated for a moment, scribbled a note on Percy's application, and then, with a sharp snap of his fingers, made the parchment vanish.
As time went on, a select few applications passed Ryan's scrutiny.
The Weasley twins from Gryffindor were in, thanks to their detailed and innovative proposals for practical joke items, even if their ultimate goal was just to open a joke shop.
The Ravenclaw prefect, Pablo Pierce, a Muggle-born, submitted a fascinating proposal on combining Muggle medical imaging technology with healing practices at St. Mungo's. It violated several articles of the International Statute of Secrecy and the Improper Use of Muggle Artefacts Act, but Ryan didn't care about such things. He simply added a note to the bottom of the parchment: Do not discuss this openly for now.
And then there was Penelope Clearwater. Influenced either by Professor Flitwick's mentorship or by her deep understanding of the person grading her paper, she had submitted a detailed treatise on the theory of Muggle weaponry and the specific magical methods for enchanting them. Ryan instantly recognized some of Professor Flitwick's own arguments in her work. Clearly, Flitwick had been giving his top students some private lessons. Overall, her application was full of ideas so novel they even managed to surprise Ryan.
What surprised him most, however, was that several of the students whom his intel had marked as being destined for great and turbulent adventures had submitted entirely unimpressive applications. This included all three members of the "Golden Trio."
Harry's application was earnest and full of effort, but it lacked any real substance. It wasn't his fault; he was brand new to magic. Ryan failed him, but made a mental note to send him a personal invitation anyway.
Hermione's essay was incredibly long and detailed. It seemed she had understood the spirit of his question, as she chose to discuss several advanced, cutting-edge magical theories. Ryan could see the mind of a diligent and brilliant young witch between the lines. Unfortunately, while she had a tremendous capacity for learning, Ryan could see very little creativity in her writing. "Miss Granger would make an excellent student," he thought, "but not necessarily a good adventurer. She excels at working within established rules, learning what is already known..." Given that she was only a first-year and had not yet been properly "corrupted" by his own way of thinking, Ryan decided to give her a pass.
As for the pure-blood wizard from the Weasley family, Ronald Weasley…
"The weather is lovely today," Ryan announced to the windowless room.
In the center of the room, his portrait silently drew a single Tarot card.
It was The Fool, reversed.
The painted version of Ryan then thoughtfully added a caption below the card: Cowardly yet reckless, yearning for freedom yet shirking responsibility, reliant on others yet stubbornly pigheaded.