Chapter 22: The First Success
"Unicorn hair, Bowtruckle leaves, gold, and silver…"
These were all alchemical ingredients known for their pure, sacred, and protective properties. They were inherently gentle and highly compatible with a normal wizard's magic. Wizards who specialized in the Dark Arts, however, were another story entirely.
Ryan used Gubraithian Fire as the heat source for his alchemical matrix. Its "ever-burning" property would imbue the ritual with a sense of stability and permanence. As the flames traced the glowing lines of the matrix, the nine-square-foot area in the center of Room 10086 began to shimmer with light.
"Separate the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross, with great industry…" he chanted the ancient words, meticulously following the alchemical process.
His guiding principle was simple: "Do no good, but do no harm."
He knew that failures in alchemy were not all created equal. Some failures produced useful byproducts; others had a tendency to send the alchemist flying into the stratosphere.
As he added the final ingredients, the ritual drew to a close. Ryan felt a pang of nervousness. He had already failed dozens of times. If it weren't for the fact that the ingredients were a gift from Hagrid, sourced directly from the Forbidden Forest, the cost alone would have been astronomical. He had already sunk the equivalent of over two thousand Galleons into this project.
Alchemy really was an expensive hobby. Even with his not-so-small fortune, he couldn't afford many more failures like this.
Two hours flew by. Fueled by the magic from his bracelet and an ample supply of Invigoration Draughts, Ryan pushed through his exhaustion.
"In the moment between being and becoming, guide the sacred through the pillars, past the tenth and nineteenth paths, to claim mercy, beauty, splendor, and the foundation."
"Thus, it is attained."
"Henceforth, a miracle is wrought."
Suddenly, the alchemical matrix erupted in a blinding column of light. Gradually, the light faded, and a single, black-and-gold pin dropped from where the column had been.
Ryan snatched it out of the air. A magical scan confirmed his success, and a look of pure joy spread across his face.
Though the pin's power-to-cost ratio wasn't great—its magical capacity was only equivalent to that of a second-year student—it was his first successful creation of an external power source using materials that did not harm magical creatures. As a bonus, it also had a mild dark-force-repelling effect. The wearer could passively dispel a handful of Inferi just by standing still, and it would slightly weaken the impact of incoming dark curses.
He fastened the pin to his sleeve and felt the flow of magic within it. He now had three distinct sources of power: his own magical core, the house-elf bracelet from the ruin, and the pin he had just created.
"One day," he thought with a grin, "I'm going to walk out of here covered head-to-toe in power sources and take over the world with a single basic attack…"
Completely drained, Ryan joked to himself as he stumbled over to the lounge area and collapsed onto the sofa, falling into a deep sleep. In the last second before he lost consciousness, he remembered that the first lesson of the afternoon was Defense Against the Dark Arts—Professor Quirinus Quirrell's first DADA class for the fifth years.
It's fine, he thought groggily. I'll just sleep for a few hours and wake up at noon. A few potions and I'll be good to go… He drifted off into a dreamless slumber.
....
Dinner Time.
"I haven't seen Ryan all day," Penelope said, a worried frown on her face. "He doesn't usually skip classes."
"Sometimes, when he's busy, he'll let Professor Flitwick know in advance," someone offered.
"I've already asked the professor," Penelope replied. "He said they saw each other this morning, but he doesn't know where Ryan went after that. He missed Professor Quirrell's first DADA class for the fifth years…"
"That seems a bit rude to Professor Quirrell," Pablo Pierce said with a sigh. "Especially since Quirrell is a Ravenclaw alumnus himself."
The two of them sighed in unison. Losing house points was one thing; the Ravenclaws were nearly as bad as the Gryffindors when it came to losing points for rule-breaking. Sneaking into the Restricted Section after hours was practically a weekly tradition. In fact, a first-year, Terry Boot, had already been led astray by the older students and had earned himself a week's detention. The older students who had shared his fate looked on with smug satisfaction, their philosophy being: If we have to get soaked, no one gets to use an umbrella.
But this was different. A new professor, and a Ravenclaw at that, was teaching his first class, and the current top student of Ravenclaw hadn't bothered to show up.
"I heard that Professor Quirrell's face went dark, and his stutter got even worse," someone else whispered. "He could barely get a word out."
"Professor Quirrell isn't at the head table tonight," Penelope noted. "I suspect Ryan's snub was the last straw, and he's too embarrassed to come to dinner." She felt a pang of sympathy for the new DADA professor. The other students only vaguely suspected that a curse was on the position, but she had personally witnessed the dark cloud of magic surrounding a previous professor during a magical experiment.
At the head table, Professor Flitwick's expression was grim. The news of Ryan's unexcused absence had spread among the professors. He wasn't worried about a conflict between Quirrell and Ryan, as they were both Ravenclaws. He was worried about Ryan himself. Knowing him as he did, he knew that Ryan would never skip a class without letting someone know. The fact that he hadn't was a clear sign that he was currently in a situation where he was unable to do so. Flitwick shot a worried glance at Dumbledore. He knew Ryan had been deeply engrossed in his alchemical experiments.
Just as Dumbledore was about to speak, he stiffened. A moment later, Flitwick also felt it—the monitoring spell he had placed on the Room of Requirement had been triggered. The two professors exchanged a look, then rose and hurried towards the eighth floor.
"What did you see, Filius?" Dumbledore asked as they rushed through the corridors. In his own magical vision, he had only seen a figure completely shrouded in a black cloak. From their height, he could only tell that it was an adult wizard.
"Headmaster, the intruder is magically obscuring their face. All I can see is a black magical mist," Flitwick reported. In the next instant, he gasped, "The intruder knows we're here!"
"I am aware, Filius," Dumbledore said, a wave of invisible power radiating from him. "I have lifted the Anti-Disapparition Jinx in this section of the castle. Let's go."
With a loud CRACK, he vanished. Flitwick, feeling the restriction on Apparition lift, immediately followed suit, disappearing with another sharp CRACK.
"They're gone?" Flitwick asked, arriving on the eighth floor to find Dumbledore frowning and scanning the corridor, with no sign of the intruder.
"The intruder vanished the instant I arrived," Dumbledore said, his voice grim. "That is highly unusual, Filius."
"Do you think they hid in the Room of Requirement?"
"We were both there this morning. We saw how long it takes for the room to open and close. There wasn't nearly enough time for the intruder to get inside." Dumbledore shook his head. "The intruder had only two options. The first is that they Apparated away. The second is that they have some level of control over the Room, and can manipulate the time it takes to open and close."