Chapter 32: The Aftermath
"The Elite Wizard tier," Ryan began, "is achieved when a wizard has reached a certain depth of knowledge in a specific magical field. I call this 'field mastery.'"
"And what exactly constitutes 'field mastery'?" Penelope asked. She was gripping her quill so tightly that her knuckles were white, fighting the overwhelming urge to take notes.
An excellent question, Ryan thought, smiling at her. "Let's use Professor Flitwick's specialty, Charms, as an example." As he spoke, he began to perform a series of spells in the center of the circle—freezing, cutting, shattering, and levitating stones—all without a word or a wand.
This effortless display of magic drew envious looks from everyone in the room. Harry whispered to himself, "Merlin, he's incredible."
"To learn a charm," Ryan explained, "and to practice it until you can perform it nonverbally or wandlessly—that, I would say, is 'spell proficiency.' Most exceptional senior students and competent adult wizards might reach this level in their best subject. This is also the average level of an official Auror."
He then stopped casting, and the space in the center of the circle fell still. Thunderous applause broke out, the students amazed by the sheer number of spells Ryan had at his command.
"Field mastery in Charms, however," Ryan said, his voice dropping slightly, "looks more like this."
He raised a hand, and several different spells erupted in the center of the room at once. The combination of levitating stones and a blasting curse created a massive cloud of dust. Just as it was about to engulf the students, a small storm cloud formed above it, and a gentle rain began to fall.
"The Weather-Modifying Charm!" someone yelled. "That's an incredibly difficult spell!"
As the rain fell, a wave of cold air washed over the room, and the raindrops and dust particles began to freeze and coalesce into a flock of tiny, glittering ice birds. They chirped and swooped around the room, their icy wings lowering the temperature several degrees. Then, they descended, hopping playfully in front of the astonished students.
Penelope cupped one of the ice birds in her hands, marveling at the feeling of its tiny, struggling form against her fingers. "You first cast the rock-levitating and blasting curses simultaneously," she analyzed, "then the Weather-Modifying Charm, and finally, a dual-casting of the Freezing Charm and the Bird-Conjuring Charm?"
The older students who had been able to follow Ryan's spellwork were dumbfounded. The younger ones, who had only understood what had happened after Penelope's explanation, were less impressed, as they had not yet experienced the excruciating difficulty of multi-casting—let alone doing it nonverbally and wandlessly.
Percy was now immensely grateful that he had joined the Adventurers' Club, and even more grateful that Ryan had no interest in political power.
Fred and George's mouths were hanging open, wide enough to fit a goose egg.
Pablo Pierce had lost all will to challenge Ryan. "That's not right," he muttered to himself. "I always thought the gap between us wasn't that big..."
"We should have known, Pablo," Penelope said, her head bowed as she poked at one of the ice birds. "The Headmaster would never have allowed him to start a club like this without this level of skill." She looked up, her expression unreadable. "Haven't you noticed? This club is very similar to the ones the professors run."
"Of course I noticed," Pablo replied. "I just... subconsciously refused to consider it."
Penelope opened her hand and let the ice bird fly away. The gap is… enormous, she thought to herself.
Hermione's eyes were shining with pure adoration. Harry's were, too.
Malfoy, a look of awe on his face, finally understood what Vaisey had meant: "If the Malfoys truly choose profit, they should at least be able to identify a profitable opportunity when they see one." He thought of the grand statue in the Ministry of Magic lobby, the one his father had first shown him years ago. The wizards and witches hadn't impressed him, and he had looked down on the house-elves and centaurs. But the inscription had stayed with him, the one mantra he had learned that had not come from his father: Magic is Might.
That was a good show, Ryan thought, struggling to keep a straight face. "To build upon proficiency, to begin to understand the essence of a spell and explore its possibilities, to layer different or identical spells and achieve multi-casting, as I have just demonstrated—that is 'field mastery.'"
Another round of applause filled the room.
"The Elite Wizard tier is a broad one," Ryan continued. "Some elite Aurors can defeat a dozen official Aurors at once…"
"What about the Archwizard tier?" someone called out.
"Yes, tell us about the Archwizards!"
From the Hufflepuff section, Cedric Diggory leaned forward. "Ryan, could you tell us what an Archwizard is?"
"I'm sorry, everyone," Ryan said with a smile. "I cannot yet explain the Archwizard tier. I only have my own speculations, and I can't be sure they're correct. I hope that in a year or two, we can sit here again, and by then, I will be able to give you a proper answer."
.....
The first meeting of the Adventurers' Club ended at eight o'clock on Friday night. In all four common rooms, students who hadn't been there waited impatiently for the attendees to return and share what had happened.
The older students were still buzzing, describing the meeting in dazzling, brilliant terms, certain that every word spoken would be recorded in a future edition of A History of Magic.
"Believe me, a discussion of this caliber is destined for the history books."
"I think Ryan's theory on wizarding tiers should be published in the Daily Prophet!"
"I have an idea! We should record everything the members said! We should be the ones to share these ideas with the whole wizarding world!"
A group of enterprising students, now with a "Chief Ideator," set out to interview every single attendee, painstakingly compiling their every word, thought, and feeling, hoping to create a new textbook, The Adventurer's Handbook, worthy of the Hogwarts library.
Countless other students were engaged in speculation, praise, and debate.
"Ryan said that some professors are Elite Wizards, and so is he…"
"Ryan must be stronger!"
"Impossible! A professor can't be weaker than a student!"
Meanwhile, among the younger students, the rumors were getting wilder and wilder, especially in Gryffindor Tower, under the careful supervision of the Weasley twins.
The news that "Ryan classified wizards based on their magical skill and power level" quickly became "Ryan has decreed a new class system for wizards." This, in turn, became "Ryan is demanding that all wizards adhere to his new class system."
And then, on Sunday, a crying first-year burst into Professor McGonagall's office, wailing that he wanted to withdraw from the school. He told her that Ryan Welles was going to implement a class system and, just like Voldemort, would purge all wizards who were not up to his standards. "It's horrible!" the boy sobbed. "He's going to get rid of all the students with bad grades! I want to go home!"
Ryan, who had been summoned by Professor McGonagall, was completely bewildered. Since when am I purging students with bad grades? Who is spreading these lies about me? This is outrageous!
After being placated with a handful of Honeydukes sweets, the young boy not only calmed down but also agreed to lead Ryan to the source of the rumors.
Just as Ryan was about to leave her office, Professor McGonagagall called out, "Mr. Welles, please put down the knife."
Ryan turned, an innocent smile on his face. "Professor, whatever do you mean?"
"You just used Transfiguration to turn a licorice wand into a dagger," she said, a rare smile gracing her usually stern features. "A very impressive piece of Transfiguration. Five points to Ravenclaw. And don't forget the advanced Transfiguration club meeting tonight at five."