Chapter 19: The Room of Hidden Things
Even though no one really knew who You-Know-Who had been during his school days, or if the rumor was even true, the comparison had an immediate effect.
Penelope slammed her hand on the table. "How dare you even suggest that?" she snapped, her voice sharp. "Comparing Ryan to Voldemort? Are you serious?"
The name "Voldemort" sent a shiver through several of the students from wizarding families.
Pablo Pierce, the prefect, was next to speak, his voice radiating an authority that was usually overshadowed by Ryan's brilliance. "I don't want to hear that kind of talk at Hogwarts. It's completely unacceptable. Ravenclaws should not be spreading baseless and malicious rumors." He looked around at the circle of students wearing the black-and-gold pins. "Ryan is nothing like You-Know-Who. And besides, the Adventurers' Club was announced by the Headmaster himself."
His meaning was clear. Even if You-Know-Who had started a secret group at Hogwarts, it had been just that—a secret, unsanctioned gang. Ryan's club, on the other hand, was approved by the Headmaster and the professors. The two could not be compared.
The student who had made the comment, realizing their mistake, quickly tried to backtrack. "Of course, Ryan isn't like him! He's helped so many of us over the years, we're all grateful to him. That's why we all support him." They added, "You-Know-Who only ever used fear to control people. In that regard alone, he's nothing compared to Ryan."
The sound of Penelope's hand hitting the table had drawn looks from across the hall, but the group kept their voices low. To outsiders, it just looked like a group of academics having a heated debate.
Someone quickly tried to change the subject to defuse the tension. "So, across all four houses, how many people actually got into the club?"
"I heard about twenty passed the test," another student replied. "From all years and houses. We had the most successful applicants, but they're all older students. Not a single one of our younger years passed. The number of invitees is still a mystery."
"Did any of the younger years pass at all?" someone else asked.
"Why not?" Penelope said. "Couldn't you tell? Ryan's question wasn't about testing your magical skill; it was about judging your creativity and your capacity for learning. A younger student can have brilliant ideas, too. That first-year from Gryffindor, Hermione Granger, she passed. She was the only first-year to do so."
"A first-year… that's incredible."
The group turned their gaze to the Gryffindor table, smiling encouragingly at Hermione Granger. Hermione, catching their eyes, smiled back tentatively. It was the first time the young witch, so new to the magical world, had received looks that held approval and recognition rather than jealousy. A wave of happiness washed over her.
"Merlin's beard, she really should have been a Ravenclaw," Ron muttered to Harry under his breath, his eyes glued to the invitation letter in Harry's hand:
Mr. Harry Potter,
On account of a future already made manifest, you are cordially invited to join the Adventurers' Club. The first meeting will be held this Friday, after the last lesson of the day.
Sincerely,
Ryan Welles
Ron's eyes were filled with undisguised envy. He watched as Harry pinned the black-and-gold badge to his robes. "Harry," he whispered, "do you think… do you think I might get one too?"
"...Maybe," Harry said, unable to bring himself to crush his new friend's hope.
Nearby, the three Weasley brothers who had been accepted—Percy, Fred, and George—all shared a single, perfectly synchronized eye-roll. It was perhaps the most in-sync they had ever been.
.....
"The Room of Requirement," Dumbledore mused, his eyes twinkling. "I believe I have stumbled upon it myself once. A room that appears for those in true need. I recall I was in rather desperate need of a lavatory at the time…" He seemed entirely unconcerned by Ryan's prophecy. This air of absolute confidence was reassuring to both Flitwick and Ryan.
"Perhaps we should pay the Room a visit now," Dumbledore suggested. The three of them left his office and, after a short walk, arrived at the tapestry on the eighth floor.
"So," Professor Flitwick said, "what kind of room should we be hoping for?"
"I believe," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "that the Room of Requirement does not belong to any one person, at least not permanently. And it is very rarely discovered, is it not? In that case, why don't we try asking for a room where one can hide things?"
"Headmaster," Ryan interjected, "I'm not sure that will work. As I mentioned, I have my own private rooms here, which I have bound with specific names. Anyone else trying to find 'Ryan Welles's room' would have a very hard time finding the correct one. They would likely stumble into a decoy."
"Bound with specific names?"
"Yes, Headmaster. I use multiple rooms within the Room of Requirement, but only one is for storing important items. That is the one I have given a unique name to, the one I can only enter by thinking of that specific name."
"A brilliant concept," Dumbledore said, understanding immediately. "That way, even if someone wanted to find your private study, without its true name, they would only be able to access the decoys." He looked at Ryan. "And you're worried that the person hiding things has had the same idea?"
Ryan nodded.
"You need not worry, Ryan," Dumbledore said gently. "While you may not be the most naturally gifted student I have ever met, you are, without a doubt, the most meticulous. I am quite certain that very few students would ever think to take such precautions."
Professor Flitwick added, "The Headmaster is right. Any student who finds this place is likely to be driven by curiosity. A student of that age and temperament would almost certainly believe themselves to be unique, and would be far less cautious than you."
"That's probably because they haven't spent their holidays getting beaten down by the magic of past masters…" Ryan said with a sigh of resignation. He wasn't born with such a cautious and logical mind; it had been hammered into him by the brutal, unforgiving magic of the ancients. The raw, untamed power he had encountered in those ruins, even centuries later, was enough to make one personally verify whether the Grim Reaper was myth or reality.
"I'll give it a try," Ryan said. "Just asking for a room to hide things."
"Of course. It is only an experiment," Dumbledore smiled.
Ryan stepped forward and began to pace in front of the tapestry, focusing on the request. On his third pass, a large, ornate door appeared.
"It seems we have found something," Dumbledore said, stepping into the room first. He let out a low whistle. "It would appear quite a few students have found this place over the years."
Ryan and Professor Flitwick followed him inside.
The sight that greeted them was a vast, cavernous space filled with towering mountains of junk. The peaks were formed from tens of thousands of items left behind by students over countless generations. Ryan could see old notebooks, cauldrons, clothes, and broken broomsticks piled high. A thick layer of dust covered everything, a testament to the immense passage of time. It was quite possibly the oldest and largest junk pile in the entire world.
"Headmaster," Ryan said, his voice echoing in the vast space. "I have good news and bad news."