Redniro
patreon
Chapter 22: The Room of Requirement
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 16:47:50 +0000 UTCRyan sat in one of the single armchairs in the Gryffindor common room, off to the side near a round window through which the pale moonlight seeped. At his side was a small table with an enchanted lamp glowing warmly. He settled in, put on his reading glasses x2, and opened Advanced Transfiguration.
The common room was not yet empty. Several students were chatting in groups, others were playing wizard’s chess, and some were simply resting after the long journey.
Ryan figured that by midnight or one o’clock, most would head up to bed. By two, he’d be completely alone.
And that was when his real plan would begin.
Not to explore forbidden corridors or cause mischief. He had a very specific destination: the Room of Requirement.
Once the common room emptied out, he would slip away silently and walk the corridors with firm steps. He would ask the Room to grant him a private chamber, comfortable, with a double bed and everything he needed for luxurious rest. He would sleep there, but not right away.
His plan was more ambitious: to stay awake until five in the morning and sleep only two hours, from five to seven. Why? Because that night he would test his new creation.
The Perfect Sleep Potion.
A formula he had purchased from the system for 80 galleons. In fact, he could already buy the system’s remaining formulas, though some were useless to him since he lacked the knowledge to brew them.
The Perfect Sleep Potion was an intermediate-advanced mixture, far beyond the level of the average fifth-year student. Under normal conditions, only a diligent sixth-year, maybe even a seventh-year, could attempt it.
But Ryan had prepared himself. He had studied potions on his own all summer. It had taken him four attempts to succeed, three failures, one success. A total of 180 galleons invested, counting the wasted ingredients and the original formula he had bought from the system. He had one dose, and he intended to use it for himself.
The effects were worth it. It was not something he should sell just yet.
Perfect Sleep Potion – Full Effect:
-2 hours of sleep equal 8 real hours.
-Upon waking, the user feels mentally clear, physically rested, and magically renewed.
-Increases retention of knowledge learned during the day.
-Ideal for those who want to study at night without sacrificing performance.
-Does not cause physical addiction, but excessive use can disrupt the sleep cycle and create psychological dependence if abused.
-Recommended: maximum twice a week.
The ingredients were not cheap: valerian root, lunar lavender, ground mermaid scales, fairy wings, and dried nebulous sleep-flower. Each attempt had cost him about 25 galleons.
For now, he didn’t plan to commercialize it. He wasn’t interested. He preferred to keep each dose he managed to brew for his own use. It was far too valuable to share.
Besides, there was a big difference between selling magical objects and selling potions.
With his inventions, like the magic quills that wrote in the air or the reading glasses x2, things were simpler. The results were visible, tangible.
He could show how they worked, impress whoever saw them in action, and didn’t need to explain much. No one questioned a quill writing in the air as if the air itself were paper. It was obvious it worked.
But potions… potions were another matter.
The potion market was more closed, more traditional, more distrustful. Who would believe a boy just starting fifth year had invented a new formula? Not modified an existing one, not copied a forgotten recipe… but created one from scratch, with powerful, precise effects, supposedly without side effects.
He could try, of course. He could build a strategy, find a willing client, demonstrate its efficacy. But it would be a long, troublesome, probably frustrating process.
The magic quill, for example: you lifted it, traced a word in the air, and done. The magic was seen, touched, immediate.
The reading glasses x2: you put them on, opened a book, and within a second you noticed how the paragraphs flowed faster. Emmeline and Pandora had confirmed it as soon as they tried them. It was obvious.
But with a potion…
With a potion, you had to drink a suspicious-looking liquid, trusting it would do exactly what it promised, and not something worse.
And who was going to do that?
Who would pay perhaps 50 galleons for a promise that they could sleep only two hours and wake up feeling brand new?
Especially if the promise came from Ryan Ollivander, a student with average grades in Potions, better known for his sarcasm than for his academic discipline.
'I should improve my Potions marks so that, if I ever decide to sell it, at least it looks credible…' Ryan thought, as he turned another page with his glasses on.
Yes. That was the plan. This year, it was the O.W.L.s. And he was going to pass Potions with the best grade possible. Not just pass, but excel. Then in sixth year, the same. And in seventh. Step by step, building a solid and respectable reputation. With that in mind, he returned to his book.
He kept reading in silence. The common room was nearly empty now, just a few scattered presences yawning. Every so often, he would glance up, observing discreetly. Waiting. Patient.
Finally, around 1:15 a.m., silence fell.
A true silence.
Ryan lifted his gaze one last time. The fireplace still crackled softly, but there was no one else. Not on the nearby couches, not in the corners. Just him.
'Took longer than I expected,' he thought. But it didn’t matter. He had what he wanted now.
He closed the book carefully.
He took off his glasses and slipped them into the inner pocket of his robe. Then, calmly, he drew a small, sober, elegant wallet of dark leather from his pocket.
At first glance, it looked ordinary. But when he opened it and placed the book inside, the volume vanished effortlessly, swallowed by a space that shouldn’t exist in something so slim.
The wallet carried the Undetectable Extension Charm, also known as Capacious Extremis. A complex, advanced magic and, technically… illegal for unauthorized use.
But Ryan hadn’t cast it himself. He wasn’t at that level yet, hadn’t even tried. He knew that if he studied it, he could pull it off, but his study schedule was already full.
He had asked his mother.
And Iris Ollivander, with a calm smile, granted it to him without hesitation. She knew her son was clever, and that if he wanted to advance faster than the others, he would need tools beyond the rulebook.
The Ministry could monitor that enchantment, yes, but it was hard to trace. And if the wallet was used discreetly, it was unlikely anyone would ever notice.
Ryan closed the metal clasp with a soft click, adjusted his robe, and rose from the armchair, heading toward the exit.
The portrait of the Fat Lady swung open with a faint creak, and Ryan stepped out of the common room, making sure to close it carefully behind him.
The corridor was dark, lit only by the torches burning on the walls. A deep silence wrapped around him, broken only by the occasional groan of ancient stone.
He drew his wand.
With a smooth twist of his wrist, he began to circle himself with it, as if wrapping himself in an invisible rope. He uttered no word. He had practiced that spell all summer, until it became second nature.
It was fifth-year magic, and he already knew it. They were supposed to be taught it sometime in the first term. He might even earn a few points for his house in Flitwick’s class.
A faint tingling spread across his skin, and when he looked at his hand… nothing. Only the dim, blurred reflection of his surroundings. It wasn’t invisibility, but perfect camouflage. He moved, and his form rippled like water. The Disillusionment Charm, successfully cast.
“Perfect,” he whispered with a smile.
And he began to move.
Stepping with controlled, silent strides, he descended the staircases. He knew where the Room of Requirement was: seventh floor, right-hand side, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.
Thanks to the books, the films, the fanfics, the entire universe he had consumed in his past life, Ryan remembered this information.
At one point before starting Hogwarts, he had even considered buying an Invisibility Cloak.
A normal one, of course. Nothing like the Potters’ relic, that legendary cloak that never decayed. His would have been an ordinary one, woven from Demiguise hide.
Hard to obtain. Very expensive. Fragile over time.
A cloak of good quality could cost anywhere between 500 and 800 galleons.
With that money, you could just as easily buy the best broom on the market, and at least with that, you could fly.
A second-hand or low-quality cloak, maybe 200 or 300 galleons. But those required constant upkeep, and if they tore or lost their effect in the middle of a nighttime escape… goodbye stealth.
Was it really worth spending all that just to walk through Hogwarts at one in the morning without being seen?
No.
Besides, who was he supposed to be afraid of?
Filch?
A bitter squib with a cat that did all the work. He had no wand, no magic. All he could do was shout and threaten.
Ryan already had his plan: if for some reason he got caught, he’d pull out his wand, cast a Petrificus Totalus, run off, and that would be it.
Cover his face, slip into any passage, and no one would know who it was.
The Hogwarts security system was truly curious. A magical castle with hundreds of students, moving staircases, floating ghosts, disappearing rooms…
And the only one in charge of patrolling the halls at night was a man without magic.
'Quite a cruel joke from Dumbledore, or whoever put Filch in that position,' Ryan thought.
Maybe there was some sort of legendary aura surrounding the old caretaker, and that’s why everyone feared him. But Ryan didn’t.
He’d hardly feel guilty if he ran into him and ended up freezing him. A man without magic should never have been given the task of night watch.
The journey was longer than he expected. Curious, and somewhat eerie, too. The castle wore a different face at night.
The walls seemed taller, the shadows thicker.
The portraits whispered among themselves. Some slept, others didn’t. Ryan caught muffled giggles, scattered phrases he couldn’t quite make out.
A couple of times, he stopped dead. Not out of fear, but caution.
Sir Nicholas floated through a wall without glancing sideways. Ryan pressed himself against a statue, blurred by his Disillusionment Charm, and held his breath.
The ghost vanished around the corner, and Ryan moved on. Farther ahead, he heard the soft meows of Mrs. Norris.
He ducked behind a suit of armor, pulling his robe over his face.
He didn’t see Filch, but the cat sniffed around for a moment. It seemed to hesitate.
Then it trotted off, tail raised high.
'Sorry, kitty. Close one, but not tonight,' he thought.
At last, he reached the seventh floor.
Right-hand side.
Opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, the one that showed the wizard being beaten by trolls in tutus.
Ryan stopped in front of the bare wall, which at that moment looked as ordinary as any other.
He closed his eyes and began pacing back and forth, three times.
As he walked, he focused his mind. He visualized what he wanted. Not as a wish, but as a need.
He thought it clearly, concretely. When he completed the third pass, he stopped. And then, the door appear.
In complete silence, the stones folded away to the sides, revealing a dark wooden door with polished fittings and a bronze handle.
Ryan smiled. He turned the knob and stepped inside. The air within was warm. The fire in a low fireplace crackled softly.
The room was the size of his Gryffindor dormitory, but arranged for a single person. In the center stood a double bed with thick sheets and a red wool blanket. On either side, two nightstands. On one of them, a clock with the alarm already set for 7:00 AM.
A broad oak desk stood against one wall with a comfortable chair. There was a built-in bookshelf, empty for now, with armchairs and lighting set up for peaceful reading.
And at the back, a carpeted, cleared corner, perfect for casting spells without breaking anything.
“Perfect,” he murmured.
He closed the door behind him. He had a few hours of study before testing his potion.
