Chapter 55 — Mapping Ambitions
The quiet of Bishop Manor settled like a soft cloak around the sprawling estate. Outside, February winds rattled against the leaded windows, carrying the faint scent of chimney smoke from distant neighbors. Inside, the study was lit by the warm glow of brass lamps and the sharp clarity of early morning sunlight, and Ronald Bilius Weasley sat cross-legged on the polished floor, a scattering of notebooks, journals, and folded papers surrounding him. Each sheet contained careful sketches, cross-references, and observations — a map not of geography, but of ideas, influence, and future potential.
Bishop, seated behind his expansive mahogany desk, observed quietly as Ron worked. The boy moved with precision, folding lines of thought into tight logical arrays, scribbling notes and then flipping through old texts he had brought along. Ginny had been drawn into the rhythm too, arranging music sheets, stacking books, and sometimes glancing at her brother with admiration. Bishop had taught her to hum along to the rhythms of pop and classical music, but it was clear that her mind was as observant as Ron's, soaking in patterns and notes.
Ron's mind was elsewhere, tracing the trajectory of wizarding and Muggle worlds in parallel. His gaze flicked to a thick volume of wizarding Astrological charts, then to a smaller notebook filled with observations of planetary alignments in the Muggle system. He noted the inconsistencies, the gaps, and the outdated methodologies of wizarding practices. If Hogwarts had used the correct temporal alignments, he mused silently, so much magic could be predicted or even stabilized. His corrections in the Astrology textbook sent to Professor Sinistra already accounted for centuries of overlooked data, but in private, he continued refining patterns, adding notes for future reference.
Bishop's voice broke the silence. "You've been at it since sunrise, Ron. Shouldn't you give your mind a break? Music, games, even a bit of television — variety keeps the brain sharp."
Ron looked up briefly, lips twitching in a half-smile. "I've planned that, Bishop. I want Ginny to be entertained too. She'll study with me, but she deserves moments where she isn't following schedules."
"Pop music? Classical? Jazz?" Bishop asked, leaning forward.
"All of the above," Ron said, almost casually, though the intensity in his eyes belied the simplicity of the words. "I want her to learn rhythm, harmony, and, well… modern trends. It helps her understand patterns, even in social behavior."
Bishop shook his head, half-amused, half-impressed. "And your music?"
"I'll learn to play. Observation, imitation, then mastery. Muggle instruments first — piano, guitar, percussion. Then we'll see about composition." He paused, glancing at the scattered sheets of notes about lighting, sound, and visual recordings. "I also want to understand filmmaking — camera work, editing, storyboarding. Everything. It's… all connected to influence and storytelling."
Bishop raised an eyebrow. "You mean the kind of business where everyone else is working for you, but you direct the creativity?"
Ron's gaze sharpened. "Not exactly. I want squibs, wizards, anyone capable, to collaborate. No one is above or below; everyone has a role. Magic and Muggle tech together. Stories, movies, plays — works of imagination that respect laws, cultures, and safety. I want this to be a sustainable industry, not a one-time stunt."
Bishop nodded slowly. "And you'll need resources, equipment, permissions. Electronic devices won't behave near magic — cameras, microphones, projectors. You'll burn through gear in minutes if you're not careful."
"Yes," Ron said quietly, jotting a note in a small black notebook. "I'll need specialists, protections, and perhaps Dumbledore's guidance for certain permissions. But… I need to think carefully before asking him. Timing is everything."
The boy's mind flickered over contingencies: what to reveal, what to hide, how to avoid unnecessary interference. He scribbled, erased, and rewrote strategies for years in advance — Hogwarts curriculum influence, political sway over the Ministry, management of magical reputations, and subtle navigation of Muggle bureaucracy. Every decision balanced influence, secrecy, and opportunity.
Bishop watched, impressed despite himself. "You think like a strategist and a CEO. But it's unusual for someone nine years old."
Ron's eyes didn't leave his page. "I've learned that brilliance alone is useless without leverage. Magic, knowledge, fame, and even the smallest social maneuver can be combined to effect change. If I can make people listen, if I can show value, then ideas become reality."
Bishop leaned back, letting the boy speak into the quiet morning. The thought patterns unfolded, complex and intricate, yet grounded in logic and observation. Bishop had never seen anyone so young project potential across worlds, politics, and cultures simultaneously.
Ron's pen paused over a fresh sheet. Uniforms, Herbology, Potions, Astrology, Muggle Culture… he wrote silently, summarizing the domains he had chosen. Not Occulmency yet. Not divination. Not Dueling to extremes. Focused domains, high leverage, low visibility. Build credibility before reaching for the high-stakes arenas.
He noted the Ministry's structure — positions held overwhelmingly by pure-blood interests. Strategic influence would be necessary; he would introduce ideas, methods, and initiatives that aligned with his goals without triggering opposition. He scribbled potential allies, neutral observers, and those whose curiosity could be piqued to support innovation.
"Bishop," he said finally, breaking the silence, "how can magic and electronics coexist safely? I mean, if I want to record spells accurately, or capture magical phenomena on camera, who can I turn to?"
Bishop tapped his fingers against his desk. "Experts exist, but it's a rare intersection. Muggle engineers won't know that magical interference exists; wizards don't understand electronics. You'll need someone who can bridge the gap — squibs with magical insight, technically skilled wizards, or a collaborative team."
Ron nodded, jotting a note. Create team. Identify squibs. Merge tech and magic. Trial. Test. Record. Expand.
He returned to a new sheet, diagramming potential workflows for creative enterprises, resource allocation, and logistical sequences. Even without the System guiding him externally, his mind functioned with extreme precision, breaking down time, effort, and outcome into clear categories.
Meanwhile, in the corner, Mr. Stark — the magical eagle owl with Phoenix lineage — settled quietly onto his perch, preening his fiery-tipped feathers. He had spent the morning scanning through correspondence, and now he looked at Ron with almost expectant patience.
Ron glanced at him, voice soft but determined. "Time to see if Hogwarts responds. Let's find out if my method works."
The owl blinked, eyes gleaming gold, and then unfurled its wings, taking flight into the hallway. Moments later, it returned, talons gripping a neatly folded parchment. Ron accepted it, his fingers steady despite a quiet pulse of anticipation. Carefully, he broke the wax seal and unfurled the paper.
Bishop watched as Ron scanned the contents. His lips moved slightly, reading silently, and then a small, almost imperceptible smile appeared. He turned the page, re-reading key points, and began to jot notes for future action — reactions, required follow-ups, and verification of proposed measures.
Bishop allowed a rare nod of approval. "Whatever Hogwarts says, you've planned far beyond most adults' imagination."
Ron's focus remained unbroken. "Planning is nothing if it can't adapt. I need to see how they respond, measure, and adjust. The world — both magical and Muggle — requires careful orchestration. If I want lasting impact, I cannot rely solely on charm, talent, or spells. Structure is key."
Outside, the wind whipped against the manor, shaking the branches of bare trees. Inside, light played across stacks of notes, books, and papers — the foundation of a young mind orchestrating change, bridging worlds, and quietly setting plans in motion that would ripple far beyond the small study room.
As the day deepened and shadows stretched, Ron set down his pen, folded the newest notes neatly, and glanced at Mr. Stark. "Let's see what Hogwarts thinks. And let's start planning for music, cameras, and preparation of Ginny's curriculum too."
The owl blinked, as if in understanding. Ron leaned back, eyes narrowing in thought, a sense of quiet anticipation settling over him. The reply from Hogwarts was more than a document; it was a test, a checkpoint, and a signal for the next stage in his intricate map of influence, learning, and subtle revolution.