Chapter 188: The Philosopher's Stone Dungeon
Let the world churn with undercurrents, let hidden arrows fly in every corner.
Hogwarts remained peaceful, day after day.
In the blink of an eye, it was the day before the new term.
Harry, who had spent the holidays visiting various friends, finally saw Ryan, who had returned travel-worn.
After leaving Beauxbatons, Ryan had visited various people and places based on the daily intel he received, observing their joys and sorrows.
Perhaps because his travels had taken him beyond the magical world, the intel he received had also spread into the Muggle world.
And the things he saw did indeed give him a stronger sense of empathy.
The day before returning, he had seen that boy again in London, the one who thought he had encountered a miracle—Gil Xavier.
Gil had transformed from an ordinary country boy into a successful figure, radiating confidence and joy. His every gesture exuded happiness, satisfaction, and a vibrant vitality, like a flood rushing from the mountains.
Ryan didn't meet him. He simply collected the emotions he could and stored them in his mind.
Now, at the Ravenclaw table, he was still digesting the records and emotions he had gathered over this long period.
He sat at the end of the table. Before him was a breakfast consisting of a jumbo sandwich and a pot of special milk.
He pulled Harry down to sit beside him.
As he sat, Harry caught a strange, milky scent, like sweet milk mixed with the fresh fragrance of tea.
"Long time no see, Harry. How was your holiday?"
"It was great. Senior, you did something huge again during the break."
Breakfast appeared before Harry as he sat down, courtesy of the house-elves, who accurately provided food based on the young wizard's needs.
The two chatted as they ate.
These days, whether chatting with friends at their homes or reading the Daily Prophet at Hogwarts, Harry found Ryan Welles's name everywhere.
His most vivid memory was of Argus Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker.
On the day the Daily Prophet published the article about Magi-Metal Wizards, Harry had seen Filch. The man's aged body seemed to have burst with vitality; he was practically skipping, walking with a spring in his step.
Even Mrs. Norris couldn't keep up with him and could only meow behind him.
Harry had never seen anything like it. He had hurriedly hidden under the stairs, faintly hearing Filch muttering words like "Magi-Metal," "Ryan," and "great man" as he passed.
He recounted this to Ryan. "Senior, I couldn't believe Filch could make those sounds or have that expression! It was so weird."
"Because Mr. Filch is also a Squib. He equally resents every young wizard who can come to Hogwarts to learn. Before this, I could get along with all the staff except him," Ryan said, downing a pot of the milk tea he had developed with the house-elves.
"Forgive my lack of modesty, but before you enrolled, I was the most dazzling person at Hogwarts. It was only natural for Mr. Filch to dislike me. But now..." Ryan couldn't quite put himself in Filch's shoes, but based on his interactions with Martin and the others, he believed Filch's attitude toward him would definitely change.
"No, Senior. Even after I enrolled, you are still the most dazzling person, and not just at Hogwarts. This holiday, I went to Ron's house, the Tower of Wonders, Senior Vaisey's house, Senior Pablo's house... Every wizard I met agreed that you are the most talented wizard of the century, bar none.
"Almost everyone says that the era of Ryan Welles has arrived, just like the era of Dumbledore."
Harry recalled everyone's praise for Ryan and felt a yearning in his heart, wondering how he could learn from Ryan to achieve such success.
"The most talented wizard of the century... that would be Voldemort, not me," Ryan said, having a very clear understanding of himself. In terms of raw magical talent, he couldn't even catch up to Voldemort's dust.
Throughout magical history, there were few wizards as talented as Voldemort. Few young wizards could effortlessly control their magic to achieve desired effects without any tools or casting aids.
For Voldemort, ordinary wands and spells were burdens. What he truly needed was magic that transcended the ordinary, like the Elder Wand, or his Killing Curse, which seemed fused with death itself.
He patted Harry on the shoulder. "That's why we have such high hopes for you, carrying Voldemort's power."
"Voldemort, the most talented? I don't believe it. His achievements don't seem to match yours," Harry said, disbelieving. Voldemort had only brought fear, blood, and slaughter to the magical world.
But Senior Ryan brought hope, vitality, and a future. The difference was night and day.
"To judge a wizard's talent, you must look at what he did and how he changed the world. From that perspective, the panic Voldemort caused was far greater than the hope I bring."
Ryan often mocked Voldemort as a village-level terrorist, but that was only because this village had Dumbledore, the pillar and peak of the magical world. Here, even a dragon had to coil, and a tiger had to crouch.
If Voldemort were in MACUSA territory or Africa... he would definitely not be just a village terrorist. He would be the embodiment of terror, enough to make the magical leaders of those regions cry out: Quick, go to Hogwarts and get Dumbledore!
Harry was speechless. He couldn't refute Ryan.
If Voldemort's talent was all put into creating panic and chaos, then judging by the results, up to now, Voldemort was indeed more outstanding than Ryan...
"But he's a bad person."
"But you're a good person. Now, this power belongs to you. You have to work hard! I have just the place for you to temper yourself."
Last term, Ryan had felt that using the layers of traps solely to protect the Philosopher's Stone was a waste.
Now, Voldemort stealing the stone had turned into Hogwarts using the stone as bait to catch Voldemort.
The security issue was gone, and the Philosopher's Stone had been returned.
The remaining levels were perfect for training young wizards.
These were levels meticulously designed by Dumbledore for his "Savior Training Plan." The Headmaster had even thoughtfully asked all the participating wizards to control the difficulty so that a first-year could pass.
Leaving such a custom-made combat training ground unused was a waste of natural resources.
"A good place?"
"Yes. You're actually quite familiar with it."
After finishing breakfast, they went to the fourth floor. Harry looked at the familiar door, above which were carved the words: Philosopher's Stone Dungeon.
He looked blankly. "Here? That three-headed dog? What's that on the wall? And what is a 'Philosopher's Stone Dungeon'?"
This place triggered unpleasant memories for Harry. It was the first time he had caused such big trouble, and as a group, too. The points lost last term had left Gryffindor struggling to recover, even with the points Ron and the others had earned during the castle fire.
Gryffindor was still in last place, having only just cleared its debt.
"That on the wall is a timer and a leaderboard. Go on in. I'll time you. Let's see how long it takes you to clear it," Ryan said, pointing to the frosted crystal screen on the wall.
He had returned the night before.
The Magi-Metal Wizard school in France was being prepared. Vaisey in Diagon Alley had also informed him that the Tower of Wonders had recruited some typical Magi-Metal Wizard representatives to be role models.
He had done what he could, and then he remembered these levels. He placed a Portkey inside the final chamber, connected to a timing device. The timing device was linked to the leaderboard at the entrance.
Once touched, the time would freeze, and the challenger would be transported out.
~~~
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