Chapter 187: The Clash of New and Old
Squibs could cast magic. Magi-Metal Wizards were born. This news spread with the crowd, reaching as far as Africa and the Magical Congress of the United States of America.
Whether with admiration or disdain, greed or dissatisfaction...
At least in this moment, everyone who heard the news paid sincere respect to the young wizard named Ryan.
Upon hearing the news, Squibs from all over the world begged their friends and relatives to take them to Diagon Alley in Britain.
They hoped to find work at the Tower of Wonders. They believed that in the entire global wizarding community, only Ryan would help them and look after them.
Suddenly, Vaisey, holding down the fort at the Tower of Wonders, found himself drowning in resumes.
There were so many applicants that even with the Undetectable Extension Charms and the opening of unfinished floors, he couldn't fit everyone inside for interviews. He had to let the crowd spill out into the street, blocking traffic in Diagon Alley.
Fred and George were initially thrilled.
After a brief round of screening, the two went from commanders with no soldiers to heads of the Tower of Wonders Gaming Department, managing dozens of people.
They hadn't worried about the Magi-Metal Wizards' competence at first, because every new hire would take an advance on their salary to buy their own wand.
These wands had special cores. Unlike the standard Magi-Alloy wands with blank Mana Bead cores, theirs were imprinted with specific spells relevant to their work, just like the Light Charm Ryan had the Squibs cast at Beauxbatons.
"Ryan really does big things. Squibs from all over the world are flocking here. We're dying," George groaned, collapsing onto a sofa after briefing his subordinates. He didn't want to move a muscle.
"I don't know what Percy's thinking. We're exhausted managing just a few dozen people." Fred wasn't faring much better. He only had the energy to move his mouth; every other muscle screamed in protest.
They were dying.
They had thought having subordinates would be easy, a way to offload work.
But the management costs and difficulties were immense. Dozens of people with zero training simply couldn't become competent in a week.
Even with the special wands, emotional fluctuations and the pressure of real work could cause these new employees to misfire...
"We just have to survive this period. Then, when school starts, we won't have to apply for leave every day and stay at the Tower until midnight..." George sighed.
On the roof of the Tower of Wonders.
Vaisey finished screening the potential hires. He had two criteria: control over magic and character.
After a long, busy day, he finally drank his first sip of water after sending away the last rejected applicant.
Countless "future Magi-Metal Wizards" had come for interviews, thinking Britain was a paradise for Squibs. They were shocked to discover that only the Tower of Wonders would accept them; other shops mercilessly drove them away.
There was no paradise on earth. There was only a wizard named Ryan Welles.
Now, they faced a choice: heaven on one side, hell on the other.
Unless you were a masochist, it wasn't a hard choice.
"A visible labor force... this powerful force has officially announced its presence in the wizarding world. Many people will have ideas about it. Of course, more will be mediocre people who don't realize this." Vaisey stretched, walked to the window, and stared at the flow of people in Diagon Alley, then looked toward the horizon.
As his gaze shifted, famous names appeared in his mind. His eyes rested on the lands belonging to the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families.
"Setting aside the families that have died out... Weasleys, Ollivanders, Selwyns... no need to worry about them. The die-hard Death Eater families are pointless to worry about because the patriarchs they left on the outside don't have the brains to realize the tide of the times is coming. The only one on British soil to worry about is the smart, flip-flopping Lucius Malfoy..."
"Especially since Mr. Lucius Malfoy has the ability to connect the die-hard Death Eater families..."
Vaisey swept away the distracting thoughts. These were not matters for him to handle.
He had done what he needed to do.
Discrimination was everywhere. Class was everywhere.
To many, a Squib was always a Squib, and magic aided by external forces was always external.
People always yearn for a better life.
And behind that better life stood a wizard named Ryan Welles.
"I've done all I can. Outsiders cannot intervene in the rest, nor are they able to."
"There are no smooth roads to the throne."
Ministry of Magic.
Ralvin, now a Deputy Minister with a seat on the Ministerial Council, looked at the Daily Prophet and realized this was an opportunity.
An opportunity to boost the reputation of the British wizarding world.
An opportunity to strengthen his own power.
He was certain Scrimgeour wouldn't realize this. And Barty Crouch... he would try to uphold the glory of the pure-blood families using the old methods of dealing with common wizards.
It wasn't that Barty Crouch was old-fashioned in the same way Voldemort was, viewing all non-pure-bloods as slaves. quite the opposite—during Voldemort's reign of terror, Crouch had been the unquestioned banner of the Ministry, the representative of the hardliners, a hero who fought against the Dark Lord.
But he was a man of the past, a decade ago. He was also from a pure-blood family. He was destined not to care much about Squibs, who were even lower than the common wizards at the bottom of society. He would only see them as tools to boost his reputation.
He would choose to give Squibs rights to gain support, thereby suppressing his political rivals—like a certain unnamed Mr. Scrimgeour, or Ralvin himself.
Then, through a series of maneuvers, he would consolidate the power in the Squibs' hands and expand his own influence.
And Squibs were weak and easily manipulated. Holding a treasure makes one guilty of a crime.
"I'm just a Deputy Minister; I naturally can't shake the Acting Minister's decision. I must do my best in my own role." Ralvin folded the Daily Prophet and put it away.
He didn't plan to use Dumbledore's name. Ryan's reputation was enough of a banner for him to wave alone.
Barty Crouch was such a rigid, upright man, someone who would send his own son to Azkaban.
How could he ever believe a teenager stood above him?
Nor would he admit that the ideas of a rising star were more correct than his own.
"To govern a domain is to perform for all under heaven to see."
He headed to Crouch's office, intending to strike first.
He knew few would support him initially, but he didn't care.
Those who opposed him didn't understand Ryan, and thus couldn't see the future.
Just as no one had thought Squibs could cast magic. Even Filch at Hogwarts, taken in by the greatest white wizard of the century, could only be a caretaker, unable to cast spells.
Wizards throughout history had certain fixed mindsets. They subconsciously blurred conventional wisdom and repeatedly affirmed it in their minds.
But Ralvin didn't think like that, because Ralvin knew Ryan.
Squibs could already cast spells. So... were Muggles far behind?
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