"You're too slow, Roger!" came the voice of Mr. Abbott.
"Sorry, it turned out to be a bit more troublesome than I expected," Roger said apologetically.
Today was the start of the school year at Hogwarts. Since Roger was leaving, he had to deal with the books in his room. That was a tavern room, not his personal library.
After checking out, Roger needed to clear out all his books.
These books, which recorded the evolution of wizarding civilization and magic, were on loan from Professor McGonagall, not given to him. So his solution was simple: aside from a few he hadn't read yet or found worth revisiting, he sent the rest back to Professor McGonagall by mail.
Roger thought this would be an easy process, but he didn't expect wizarding mail to be more complicated than anticipated. Filling out the necessary postal paperwork delayed him by twenty minutes.
...Even though Roger had bought a pet owl, the ones sold to first-year students were all juveniles—too young to carry dozens of books by mail.
Making ten-plus trips back and forth was an option, but Roger wasn't about to put his pet through that kind of ordeal.
Since he had bought it, it was now part of his family. No need to torment it over something trivial.
"Sorry for the wait," Roger said as he stepped out of the post office and into the backseat of the car.
"There's nothing else, right? If we delay any longer, you'll really be late," Mr. Abbott said.
Roger shook his head. "No, that's all."
"What about you, Hannah?" Mr. Abbott glanced at the blonde girl beside him.
Her name was Hannah Abbott, a relative of Mr. Tom Abbott. She was also eleven and starting at Hogwarts this year.
Since Mr. Abbott had to take his own child to the station anyway, he decided to give Roger a ride as well.
"I'm ready too," Hannah replied from the front seat.
With that, Mr. Abbott stepped on the gas, heading toward King's Cross Station, where Platform 9¾ awaited.
During the drive, Mr. Abbott occasionally chatted with Hannah or exchanged a few words with Roger. But between Hannah and Roger, there was almost no conversation.
It wasn't that they disliked each other—they got along fine—but they simply had no interest in one another.
To Roger, Hannah was just a kid—immature and uninterested in magic. They had nothing in common.
Rather than wasting time entertaining a child, he'd rather read a couple more magic books. That was far more important for his growth.
At first, Hannah had been somewhat curious about Roger.
After all, at the Leaky Cauldron, the drunken patrons only talked about two things lately:
One was the legendary Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, who was starting school this year.
The other was the so-called Seer, Roger Virgil, another incoming student.
To the tavern regulars, these two were spoken of in almost mythical terms.
Especially the older patrons—they liked to compare these two kids to the legendary figures who had once stood above all others in their own time.
After all, wasn't there a lot of similarity?
But after spending some time around Roger, Hannah realized he wasn't anything special.
All he ever did was read, read, and read some more—just a total bookworm.
Not at all the kind of person a young girl would be interested in.
Sometimes she even wondered, What if Harry Potter is like this too? Completely different from the rumors?
Seeing the two kids completely ignoring each other, Mr. Abbott sighed inwardly.
As a pub owner who had met countless people, he could tell that Roger, someone who could focus all his energy on one thing without distraction, was bound to achieve something great—even if he wasn't a Seer.
And since he thought Roger was a decent kid, he naturally hoped his daughter could befriend him.
The wizarding world was never truly peaceful. Where there were people, there were conflicts.
Even though most British wizards came from Hogwarts and were technically "schoolmates," conflicts still arose.
Sometimes, grudges from the previous generation would even be passed down to students at Hogwarts.
Within the school's closed environment, students always engaged in rivalries and power struggles. That never changed.
Whether in school or in society, having a powerful figure willing to look out for you was never a bad thing.
In the wizarding world, it was powerful wizards and resource-rich pureblood families who truly held control.
Having a strong wizard on your side could sometimes even serve as a deterrent—just the "big-shot association" effect alone could scare off troublemakers.
Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed. Roger and Hannah showed no signs of becoming friends.
All he could do was hope that Roger, out of respect for him, might lend Hannah a hand if she ever ran into trouble at school—because he himself wouldn't be able to help from afar.
---
"Spatial teleportation… precision reality distortion… incredible."
Pushing a trolley loaded with school robes, a cauldron, an owl cage, and other items, Roger murmured as he stepped through the barrier onto Platform 9¾.
Just moments ago, a group of wizard parents had openly talked about Muggles while sending their kids through the barrier—yet none of the passing ordinary people noticed.
It was ridiculous when you thought about it.
"A regional enchantment? Does entering the area automatically confuse people's perception?" Roger pondered over what he had just witnessed.
"Roger, let's go!" a voice called from behind, interrupting his thoughts.
"We already wasted enough time. If you don't board soon, you'll have to stand the whole way!" Hannah urged.
"Of course I don't want that," Roger replied as he walked forward.
Together, they squeezed through the crowded platform, surrounded by the chatter of students, the cries of magical pets, and the steam hissing from the train.
Now and then, kids who had already boarded leaned out of the windows to say their goodbyes. The chaos was overwhelming.
Hannah was right. By the time Roger boarded, the front carriages were completely full.
The middle and rear carriages still had some seats left, but none were empty compartments.
"Looks like I'll have to share a compartment," Roger thought.
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a toad clawing at a compartment door.
After a moment, the toad gave up and turned its dull eyes toward Roger before hopping away cautiously.
Wait… was this—
Before Roger could react, a panicked voice called out:
"Gran, I lost Trevor again!"
A boy leaned out of a carriage window, sounding distressed and on the verge of tears.
"Sigh… Neville…"
On the platform, an elderly woman sighed at her grandson's helpless expression.
Click.
The door latch lifted.
"Excuse me, is this Trevor?"
Neville turned around to see a kind-looking boy with soft blond hair standing there.
Floating in front of him was the toad, paddling its legs in the air as if swimming—clearly panicked.
"Trevor!" Neville's eyes widened in delight as he scooped the toad into his arms.
Seeing this, Roger took the opportunity to ask, "Most of the compartments are full. Can I sit here?"
Rather than wandering from carriage to carriage asking for a seat—only to be rejected by those who preferred solitude—this was the perfect chance to save himself the trouble.
"Of course!" Neville eagerly welcomed him.
…Roger was well aware that Trevor's disappearance had originally led to Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley meeting for the first time.
His actions might change what was supposed to happen.
But he didn't care.
The so-called "plot" was just a series of events that might unfold over the next seven years.
A single butterfly flapping its wings could cause a storm miles away. His mere existence was already altering the future.
Was he supposed to obsess over every little detail of the original timeline?
That would be ridiculous.
As a Seer, Roger had always believed—there was no such thing as destiny.
The world would only be better with him in it.
---
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