After thinking about allowances, expenses, and how students really managed their money, Ryan began making his way toward his new private workshop he had discovered at Hogwarts.
It wasn't the Room of Requirement. It had seemed perfect the first day, but in the end it let him down. One night, trying to enter unnoticed, he found the door already manifested. He didn't understand why, until curiosity made him wait.
Minutes later, a boy and a girl from upper years walked out. Ravenclaws, both of them. Their messy hair and half-buttoned robes made it very clear what kind of "need" had led them there.
They were using it as a hideout for… well, that.
Another day he returned, hoping this time it would be free. But again, no luck. It was already occupied. He didn't wait. Not even a minute.
It made sense that with so many students, a small percentage would know about the room. He had simply been lucky the first day, since it was Sunday and most had gone to bed.
He couldn't rely on chance, and even less on a room that constantly changed.
So he looked for something more permanent, something that would be his. Luckily, he found it.
It was an old forgotten classroom on the fourth floor, at the end of the east wing. A quiet section of the castle, not too far from the Astronomy Tower, though one level lower.
The hallway was almost always empty, with only a couple of sleeping portraits and a faint light filtering through tall windows.
The door was covered by a long, dusty tapestry depicting a Viking wizard hurling burning runes at a dragon.
Few ever stopped to look. Even fewer knew there was anything behind it other than stone. Ryan hadn't stumbled upon it by pure chance, he had been searching for an abandoned room to use.
He pulled aside the tapestry, examined the lock, and cast a simple Alohomora. The door creaked as if it hadn't been opened in years. Inside, he found the perfect place.
Stone tables. Wide benches. Cobweb-covered shelves. An old blackboard, with faint chalk marks still visible. Absolute silence.
He had found the room five days earlier. And in the days since, he had prepared it to boost security, already decent, but not nearly enough.
First, he modified the lock. He used a Recognition Charm combined with an Inscription Rune, thanks to the books he had studied on the system.
Then he added a subtler protection: an Environmental Confusion Charm. A mild variant of Confundus woven into the hallway.
If someone approached without knowing exactly what they were looking for, they would feel as if they were in the wrong place.
As if the corridor held nothing of importance.
Better to just keep walking.
He walked the corridors calmly, hands in his pockets, as if merely stretching his legs.
Five-thirty in the afternoon brought that brief golden moment:
When the castle seemed to hold its breath.
No noise, no footsteps, no voices. Perfect. Most people were either in their common rooms, the library, or getting ready to head to the Great Hall for dinner.
When he reached the east wing of the fourth floor, Ryan cast a discreet glance around. Empty.
He approached the long tapestry of the Viking wizard.
With one hand he moved the fabric aside, revealing the old wooden door with its simple metal lock, at least in appearance.
Ryan drew his wand.
He traced a precise, rapid sequence in the air, as if sketching a forgotten letter or an inverted number.
The secret rune glowed faintly for an instant on the lock…
Click.
The door opened, and he stepped inside.
The air still carried a faint scent of ancient dust. He had cleaned it, yes, but not refurbished it.
It was obvious the place had gone unused for years: damp stains marred the walls here and there, the empty shelves groaned at the slightest step, and the blackboard at the back still bore half-erased formulas.
But at least it was no longer filthy.
The stone tables were arranged in two rows, as if the classroom were still waiting for students. Ryan had pushed one up against the left wall, the one that caught the best light.
The floor was clean, with no visible dust. But the lighting remained dim, reinforced only by a couple of floating candles he had enchanted.
He closed the door with a gentle push.
And there he stood for a moment, gazing at his refuge.
He could, if he wanted, spend thirty or forty galleons and bring in thick carpets, velvet curtains, fine furniture… even some magical device with enchanted heating. He had the capital for it. Wouldn't it be wonderful to turn this gloomy corner into a private business chamber?
A stylish magical office. A place where others would come to negotiate their purchases as though they were speaking to a banker or a renowned inventor.
Yes. He could do it.
But not yet. For now, the place was fine as it was. Cold and silent, and known only to him.
He strode confidently to a corner of the classroom where he had set up a makeshift workstation: a wider, more comfortable desk, a floating lamp for better light, and a small chest where he kept his basic inventory.
With a flick of his wrist he opened it, and drew out six quills carefully wrapped in linen cloths. One by one, he laid them out on the table.
First, the most elegant of them all: a royal eagle quill with silvery, gleaming plumage, clearly superior to the standard. Not magical on its own, but still a cut above the common eagle quill. Its cost was 1.20 galleons, double the price.
It was meant for Mia Macmillan, a seventh-year prefect. An imposing girl, her expression always stern, who had handed him her schedule on the very first day in the Great Hall.
At that moment, Ryan had flirted subtly. Nothing explicit, just a crooked smile, an ambiguous remark, and eyes held for half a second longer than necessary.
She hadn't fully reacted… but neither had she pulled away, nor seemed displeased. Yesterday she had approached him in a neutral manner to request a quill. Ryan had said yes, it would take a day, and he offered her the option of a slightly higher-end quill, not as extravagant as a griffin's, but still refined compared to the rest.
Then he drew out five common eagle quills. Four for the Marauders, and one for a third-year Hufflepuff who had placed his order the day before and expected delivery today.
He rolled up his sleeves, adjusted the angle of his wand, and began tracing quickly the runic gestures he had perfected.
Inscription Charm… Duration Rune… Color Rune… Magical Flow Stabilization…
What had once taken him fifteen minutes per quill, he now brought down to exactly thirteen, thanks to a well-rehearsed routine, steady practice, and finer control of his magical pulse. The experience of enchanting over two hundred quills since he had started showed. His hands knew what they were doing. He no longer even thought about each movement; it was all rhythm, precision, and cadence.
Thirty-nine minutes later, all six were finished.
Ryan stretched slightly, loosening his shoulders. Then, from the same chest, he pulled out six standard presentation cases, simple wooden boxes with brass clasps, and carefully placed each quill inside. He snapped them shut with small clicks, lining them neatly side by side.
"I told them two days, but they're already done…" Ryan murmured, wearing a strange expression.
He glanced at the time on an old clock which, despite its age, still worked, magical advantages.
It was only 6:10 PM.
Dinner in the Great Hall began at 6 and lasted until 8, so he could go at seven and still have time to eat.
He pulled out his wallet, magically expanded, and slid in the four cases meant for the Marauders. He wouldn't deliver them today. He had said two days, and even though they were ready, it would look odd to break his own business word, and might make it seem as though his production was easy. Besides, keeping his promise gave him a more professional, more calculating air.
He took the other two cases and slipped them carefully inside his robes. Those two deliveries would be made tonight, as agreed. Perhaps they were already waiting for him in the Great Hall.
Too bad. He was in no rush, and he had planned to study before heading there.
He sat down in his chair and pulled the Practical Runic Manual II from his system inventory. He put on his x2 reading glasses and began to read where he had left off.
For the next forty real minutes, or rather, eighty effective minutes thanks to the glasses' effect, Ryan immersed himself in pages and annotations. He reread certain passages, marked new formulas…
Ryan stored the book back in the system, removed his glasses, and gave the room one final glance to make sure everything was in order.
He slipped out the door carefully, making sure not to run into anyone. Luck was on his side, he crossed paths with no one.
He went down the stairs with steady steps, hands in his pockets and his mind already elsewhere.
Crossing the main hall, he entered the Great Hall and, as always, the spectacle of long tables, enchanted ceilings, and floating candles greeted him like an old Hogwarts ritual.
'I still haven't gotten used to this, and I've been here more than ten days…' Ryan thought, fascinated as he crossed the threshold.
He was just about to sit at the table when a figure rose with almost choreographed precision. Mia Macmillan. She intercepted him halfway, posture as impeccable as ever, robe straight, braid flawless, and eyes sharp.
"Generally," she said without raising her voice, but firmly enough to slice the air, "it's the seller who waits for the client. Not the other way around."
Ryan stopped without hurry, hands in the pockets of his robe, and a smile formed naturally as he saw her.
"My apologies, prefect. Studying, homework, and being a merchant with a highly demanded product makes things complicated. But I'm here, aren't I?" he said, looking straight into her eyes, fearless.
Mia looked at him with a slightly arched brow, weighing the answer. She didn't smile, but neither did she look away. There was something different this time. A curious spark that hadn't been there in their first encounter.
"I suppose you're right. It must be difficult to maintain supply when you're only one person…" she said, folding her arms. "I thought you'd forgotten."
"Forget you? Impossible," Ryan said, dropping his tone ever so slightly on that last word, as if playing with a more intimate meaning.
Mia let out a short huff, something between annoyance and amusement, but the faint twitch at the corner of her lips betrayed that maybe, just maybe, she enjoyed the game.
"Do you have it?" she asked at last, practical as always.
Ryan nodded and, with an almost elegant gesture, slid his hand inside his robe, drawing out one of the two cases he carried. Plain wood, brass clasp. Nothing flashy on the outside.
But inside…
"Premium eagle quill. Extended duration to six hours… and ink the same color as your eyes," Ryan said, offering it with a smile that was neither arrogant nor crude, but precise. Just enough.
Mia lowered her gaze for a moment, as if analyzing it. She took the case delicately, holding it between her fingers like someone evaluating a jewel.
"How much is it?" she asked, mentally bracing herself to hear at least twelve galleons.
Ryan gave a faint shrug, as if tossing the offer into the air without much care.
"For making you wait… and because it's you: ten."
Mia blinked. A small gesture, but for her it was almost a sign of pure surprise. "Ten?" she repeated, as if needing confirmation.
She knew that was the price for the regular ones. The one she had asked for was a bit more expensive, and not only that, the floating letters lasted longer. Instead of four hours, six. So she had expected at least twelve, even thirteen.
Ryan nodded calmly. "Special price for seventh-year prefects with intimidating braids and a pretty face."
Mia held his gaze a second longer than usual, but this time with a different gleam. As though she had allowed herself to enjoy the comment.
She said nothing. She simply drew out her purse and counted out ten exact galleons, handing them over wordlessly, but with the faintest smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
Ryan pocketed the coins with his usual composure. He was just about to turn and finally have dinner when, against all odds, Mia spoke.
"This generous offer…" she said, in a flawlessly neutral tone, still sounding very much in prefect mode, "…perhaps deserves some retribution."
"You could accompany me tomorrow, after lunch. A walk through the west courtyard. Nothing too long. I thought that… since you're in fifth year, you might appreciate some advice on your OWLs."
Ryan blinked, genuinely surprised. Was he being invited to some kind of tutoring session? Or was this simply her way of disguising an informal outing?
"An educational walk?" he asked, half amused, half bewildered.
"If that's how you see it," Mia replied, folding her arms with calculated elegance. "I call it foresight, it will help you with your OWLs."
"Then I'll be there. West courtyard. After lunch," Ryan said with a smile.
Mia held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded with her characteristic elegant efficiency and walked away without another word. Yet the stiffness in her stride carried a slight variation. Something lighter. As though she bore less weight inside now that she hadn't been rejected.
Ryan remained in place for a moment longer, eyes unfocused, with a single word bouncing in his head:
Retribution.
He repeated it silently, tilting his head, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and puzzlement.
Who says 'retribution'?
Of course, this was 1971. Words still carried a formal, serious air, like something lifted from a handbook of etiquette. None of the casual: thanks for the favor, I owe you one, or anything like that.
Or maybe it's just Mia, so prefect, so military… that even her hints come stamped and sealed by the Ministry.
Ryan shrugged, amused, and finally sat down at the table to eat.
...
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