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Chapter 4: Legal loophole
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 02:06:20 +0000 UTCRyan closed the door to his room softly. The click of the latch sounded louder than he expected.
He let himself fall back onto the bed, lying on his back with a long sigh. He stared at the ceiling, the same ceiling Ryan Ollivander had always known, but brand new to him.
The contrast was stark: from being an orphan and sharing a room with those he considered his brothers, though not by blood, to suddenly having a loving, playful mother. A warm home. A surname steeped in magical history. And, of course, living in one of his favorite worlds…
At first, when he had stepped out of this room for the first time to meet Iris, he had felt a quiet fear.
What if she noticed something strange?
What if she realized he wasn’t really her son?
Thankfully, everything had gone better than he expected. Much better. Perfect, even.
He hadn’t even needed to fake as much as he thought he would. The laughter, the sarcasm, the slightly mocking tone… it all came naturally.
Not because he was imitating Ryan Ollivander. But because, somehow, they were the same.
Ryan Torres and Ryan Ollivander shared more than just a face. They were the same age. The same rhythm in their speech. The same kind of humor. The same tendency to doze off under a tree after lunch.
Yes, there were differences. He was hungrier for more. He had dreams, ambitions, pain.
But thanks to the memories of the other Ryan, now as much his as his own, nothing felt entirely foreign.
It was only… a continuation. As if, instead of waking up in another body, he had simply awakened in season two of himself.
After reflecting for a few minutes, he pulled the galleons out of his pocket.
“System. Purchase Practical Runic Manual I. Payment: five galleons obtained through fair and legitimate exchange. Do you accept?”
[Validating transaction…]
[…]
There was a longer silence than Ryan expected until the mechanical voice of the system spoke again in his mind.
[Transaction accepted. Funds verified as obtained through own merit.]
Ryan grinned like a fox. “Got you, system. I just found your first legal loophole,” he murmured.
A small blue light glowed before his eyes, projecting a floating notification:
[Object acquired: Practical Runic Manual I]
[Status: Stored in inventory]
[Do you wish to withdraw it?]
“Yes,” he said firmly.
A burst of white light materialized before him, expanding like a magical curtain.
When it faded, Ryan found himself standing before a glorious book.
“Oh…” he whispered.
It was enormous.
Practical Runic Manual I didn’t look introductory at all.
It had a black leather binding, engraved with luminous symbols that pulsed as though breathing. The pages were thick, gilt-edged, and carried a faint scent of ancient magic and freshly transfigured parchment.
And on the cover, a seal he didn’t recognize: a closed eye above an inverted rune.
Ryan lifted it with both hands. It weighed several pounds.
By instinct, he glanced toward the door, as if afraid someone might barge in and steal it.
'System… can I store it again?'
[Inventory available. Do you wish to store the object?]
“Yes. Now.”
The book dematerialized before his eyes in a bluish mist of light.
Ryan was alone once more in his room, with a satisfied smile and a comforting certainty: that tome was safe. No one would steal it.
Ryan summoned the book again and began reading it from the beginning. He realized instantly the book was worth far more than five galleons.
Practical Runic Manual I had hundreds of pages of dense, structured, detailed content, clearly worth far more than five galleons could ever buy.
Every word seemed to contain centuries of knowledge, compressed and refined for direct application. It wasn’t dry theory or boring history: it was applied magic, pure and raw.
And there was something else. This manual included an exclusive spell called: “Inscribere.”
A spell that allowed the user to engrave basic runes directly onto physical surfaces using their wand.
He knew that at Hogwarts, Ancient Runes was taught only as a theoretical subject. Reading, translation, interpretation.
Nothing about real inscription. No one taught you how to etch runes into objects to enhance their durability, store magic, or grant special abilities.
That knowledge was considered specialized, almost arcanist-level. Reserved for advanced wizards, artifact makers, or alchemists with decades of experience.
The most advanced thing he could remember was the Undetectable Extension Charm, also known simply as the Extension Charm (Capacious Extremis). It was an enchantment that expanded the internal dimensions of an object without affecting its external size. This was advanced magic, and its use was strictly regulated by the Ministry.
Hermione had used it on her beaded bag during the Horcrux hunt. Newt Scamander had applied it to his suitcase to create entire habitats. Even Arthur Weasley had enchanted his Ford Anglia to turn it into a magical minivan.
This enchantment was currently subject to strict Ministry regulations. It could only be applied to objects officially authorized for such use, like school luggage, magical tents, or regulated equipment. And even then, it required experience and permits.
Furthermore, the enchantment had limitations.
First, it was not as durable as inscribing runes onto an object. It had a lifespan, you had to recast it before it expired. And it couldn’t be applied to just anything. For example, a ring.
A ring was not a viable structure to contain dimensional expansion. Neither by size, nor by magical stability.
Runes, on the other hand, could. With Ancient Runes, you could turn a ring into a dimensional backpack: far more comfortable, weightless, and, of course, cool. You could summon and store objects with your mind. Organize them. Classify them. All through pure thought.
“More comfortable, safer, more efficient,” Ryan whispered with a slight smile.
An idea crossed his mind. He picked up an almost-empty inkwell from his desk.
System. I want to store this object in the inventory.
[Rejected. Only system-owned objects can be stored.]
Ryan narrowed his eyes.
'So that’s the trick? It’s not a universal inventory. Only for what you give me.'
[Correct. Only system objects can be stored.]
Then I’ll have to make my own dimensional inventory.
The concept, far from discouraging him, lit a spark inside. And he had exactly what he needed to begin. He started reading Practical Runic Manual I.
The first chapter bore a modest title: Theory and Fundamentals of Inscribere. But as he read further, he realized something surprising. You didn’t need to be an expert in Ancient Runes to start.
The book had been designed for complete beginners. It explained everything from the basics of magical circuits to the symbolic structure of the most common runes. Yes, prior knowledge of Ancient Runes was useful… but not required.
And Ryan wasn’t starting from zero. He had taken the subject since third year.
In third year, he had earned an E (Exceeds Expectations), partly thanks to his prodigious memory.
In fourth year, he scored an A (Acceptable), more out of lack of motivation than lack of ability.
But now Ryan was different. As an orphan, he had always seen study as his only escape. He had always taken it seriously. He had strong memory, good comprehension, and above all… hunger.
Hunger to grow, to improve. And now, in this second chance, his ambition was even greater. A better starting point, though with a more dangerous future looming.
Besides, the near-perfect memory he might have inherited from Garrick Ollivander was a gift he did not intend to waste.
“It doesn’t matter if you used to be a lazy bum with luck,” he muttered, referring to the original Ryan as he turned the page, “I won’t be.”
Hours slipped by without Ryan noticing.
He underlined patterns, memorized sequences of strokes, understood the principles of magical energy, anchoring points, and channeling through the wand.
Inscribere wasn’t just a simple engraving spell.
It wasn’t the kind of basic charm like Wingardium Leviosa, which only required practice and clear pronunciation.
It was deeper, more technical.
It depended on intention, precision, and complete understanding of what one wished to engrave.
At last, he closed the book gently and returned it to the system’s inventory. The magical clock in the room showed it was nearly dinner time.
“Four hours?” he whispered, surprised.
He had arrived in this world less than five hours ago.
And instead of rushing outside to test his magic in the yard with enthusiasm, like any fifteen-year-old Harry Potter fan would have done if handed a wand and real magic, he had locked himself away studying an arcanist spell, as though the urgency to learn outweighed the excitement.
Perhaps it did.
Perhaps the excitement was learning.
He took a deep breath. He knew pushing further now would be useless. His head was already too full of information. The theory was planted.
It was time to practice at least the movement… even if he didn’t engrave anything yet. He rose from the desk and walked to the center of the room.
He took his wand in his right hand.
The manual had described the initial stroke with precision: a downward curve followed by a tight spiral, as though drawing a rune with invisible fire.
“Inscribere,” he pronounced firmly.
He felt a tingling at the tip of the wand.
Magic responded.
Not enough to engrave… but enough to let him know he was on the right path.
And that, after all, was a good first step.
For a moment, silence filled the room, and Ryan froze, blinking.
“Wait… I just used magic outside of school…” he muttered under his breath.
His heart gave a small jump.
He remembered perfectly: in the Harry Potter books, underage wizards weren’t allowed to use magic during the holidays. The Ministry detected it instantly and sent warnings. Harry had nearly been expelled for that!
But…
He closed his eyes and dove into the memories of the original Ryan. They were there, vivid.
Ryan had cast spells in the summer. In the garden. In the bathroom. Once, even to warm tea. He had never received a single warning letter.
Why?
And then he understood. At this time, the Ministry’s tracking wasn’t so strict. The Trace wasn’t used for every spell, but rather to monitor the use of magic in non-magical zones.
If you were Muggle-born, surveillance was intense. They couldn’t risk magic being exposed.
But if you belonged to a magical family, like the Ollivanders… living in a house protected by ancient wards, saturated with magic for generations…
The Ministry couldn’t tell whether a spell had been cast by an adult or a minor. They simply assumed it was a safe and authorized environment.
He was free to practice.
And so Ryan’s days at home passed, the start of his fifth year at Hogwarts drawing ever closer.
