Chapter 76: The Plan is Set
"No ordinary excuse is going to fool Voldemort," Ryan stated. "Especially not after what happened with Professor Quirrell in front of the Room of Requirement. He despises my prophetic abilities more than ever."
He reasoned that they needed a scenario that Voldemort would find completely believable—a situation that would require both him and Dumbledore to be away from the castle and, crucially, unable to leave at a moment's notice. Furthermore, the reason for his absence had to be public knowledge among the entire student body, not just a select few. The new, smarter Voldemort would be difficult to deceive. He would know that any student leaving the school required permission, and the reasons for such leave were never truly secret. The excuse had to be convincing enough for Voldemort to talk himself into believing it was true.
Ryan laid out his thoughts for the group. "Headmaster, Professors, can any of you think of an event or a reason that fits all these criteria?" He added, "And it has to be a plausible excuse for me. The Headmaster can go anywhere; he has old friends all over the world. But for both of us to have a commitment at the same time is bound to raise suspicion."
The four professors racked their brains but came up empty. Every scenario they imagined either allowed for an early departure or lacked a compelling, non-negotiable reason for attendance.
Snape considered an idea and then immediately dismissed it. A thought had flashed through his mind: if it were announced that Ryan was being arrested and taken to Azkaban, requiring both him and Dumbledore to attend a Ministry hearing, Voldemort would certainly not be suspicious. Based on Ryan's actions since the start of term, Snape figured Voldemort was probably wondering who the real future Dark Lord was supposed to be. However, he recognized the suggestion was born of personal bias and knew Dumbledore would never agree, so he kept it to himself.
Dumbledore, however, mulled it over for a moment before speaking. "I do have an idea. There is indeed one event from which it is almost impossible to slip away." He looked around the room. "The award ceremony for the Order of Merlin."
"Headmaster, that's not 'almost impossible to slip away,'" Ryan countered, not bothering to question whether he could actually win one. "That is completely impossible to get away from."
Not only would Ryan be trapped, but as the youngest recipient in history, his Head of House and the Headmaster of Hogwarts would be prime targets for interviews and congratulations. And that didn't even account for the high-society pure-bloods and self-important Ministry officials who would swarm them like vultures to a carcass. All three of them would be utterly pinned down.
"That, of course, is not a problem," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Severus will help us with that."
His specific mention of Snape made his intention clear to everyone. He wasn't planning on attending the ceremony at all. He was going to have three people take Polyjuice Potion and impersonate them. The real Dumbledore, Flitwick, and Ryan would remain hidden in the castle, waiting for their quarry to walk into the trap.
"A brilliant plan, Headmaster!" Ryan said. "Now we just have to solve one insignificant little problem: what achievement am I winning the Order of Merlin for?"
This wasn't arrogance on Ryan's part. Over the years, he had rediscovered so many lost branches of magic and forgotten inventions from ancient ruins that he could take any one of them, adapt it for the modern era, and present an achievement worthy of the award. His modified external magic core, for instance, which could be crafted from common materials, would cause a revolution if it were released to the public. An invention that could so fundamentally change wizarding life was easily worthy of an Order of Merlin, Second Class, at the very least.
"Your... intelligent alchemy," Dumbledore prompted, hinting at the device they had just created.
Ryan thought for a moment, understanding the Headmaster's underlying suggestion: use the Order of Merlin award to launch the new alchemical device to the public. It was clear the three prophecies had shaken Dumbledore, pushing him towards a more aggressive strategy. Ryan filed the observation away but politely declined the proposal. "We can hold a press conference after I've produced the first magical communicator. With a little maneuvering from you, Headmaster, the communicator itself would be more than enough to justify the award."
He explained, "The concept of an intelligent alchemical device is still a bit too advanced for the current wizarding world. If we release it now, there's a high probability that most wizards won't accept or understand it. The award would be debated and delayed, and Voldemort, seeing his window of opportunity closing, might go into even deeper hiding."
The others nodded in agreement, impressed that despite the boldness of his overall strategy, Ryan was still meticulous and prudent when it came to the details.
"How long will you need," Flitwick asked, "to create the communicator?"
"If you just need a few prototypes, I can probably pull an all-nighter and have them ready by morning," Ryan estimated. "But for mass production and a full-scale launch to the wizarding world, I'd need about a month to build the production line."
"A month is too long," Dumbledore said, shaking his head.
The other professors agreed. Another month was more than enough time for Voldemort to corrupt a whole new group of students. They had discovered his plan late as it was; they couldn't afford to give him more time to fester. They all urged him to create the prototypes first, just enough to fool the Ministry—and Voldemort. Snape's voice was the loudest among them.
"I understand," Dumbledore said, silencing the debate. "Ryan and I will handle it." He then turned his attention to the others. "My own role, along with Flitwick's and Ryan's, is settled. Minerva, what of the rest of you on the Quidditch pitch? How will you contain the chaos and get to the third floor as quickly as possible?"
The professors could only say they would coordinate with the other faculty members and rush back the moment the situation was under control.
Dumbledore murmured to himself, "Perhaps we ought to put a little more faith in our students. To trust that they can take care of themselves..."
In the hospital wing, Ron Weasley was beginning to suspect he had a terminal illness. Madam Pomfrey's examination was so exhaustive—covering his mind and body, using every potion and diagnostic charm she knew—that he was left utterly drained and bewildered.
When it was all over, she told him the results: "You have a minor cold. A night's rest here should clear it right up."
Bored out of his mind but not daring to defy the matron's orders, Ron collapsed onto an empty bed. He hadn't been lying there long when he heard someone moving about in the adjacent, partitioned-off room.
A jolt of realization went through him. He suddenly remembered: Professor Quirrell.
~~~
Get early access to 40+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn