Chapter 12: A World with Me Will Only Be Better

“Too slow, Roger!” came the voice of Boss Abbott.

“Sorry, it’s a bit more complicated than I thought,” Roger said apologetically.

Today was the first day of school at Hogwarts. Since Roger was going there, he needed to sort out the books in his room. After all, it was a room in the tavern, not his personal library.

After checking out, Roger had to clear all the books out.

These volumes were almost like a record of the entire evolution of wizarding magic—important tomes that Professor McGonagall had lent to Roger, not given to him. So his approach was straightforward.

Aside from a few he hadn’t read yet and some that were truly worth savoring and revisiting, the rest would be mailed back to Professor McGonagall.

Roger had thought this would be a simple task, but he hadn’t expected wizarding postal services to be more troublesome than anticipated, causing him to spend an extra twenty minutes filling out the necessary forms at the post office.

Though Roger had bought a magical pet owl himself, to ensure the longevity of these creatures, the ones sold to first-year students were generally juveniles, not mature birds capable of carrying dozens of books in one go.

He could have made multiple trips, but he was reluctant to trouble his magical pet so much.

Since he had adopted it, it was like family—there was no need to torment it over a trivial matter.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Roger said as he got into the back seat of the car after leaving the post office.

“Anything else? If we delay any longer, it’ll really be late,” Boss Abbott said.

Roger shook his head. “No, that’s all.”

“How about you, Hannah?” Boss Abbott’s gaze naturally shifted toward the fair-skinned, blonde girl beside him.

The girl’s name was Hannah Abbott, a relative of Tom Abbott, the tavern owner. She was also eleven this year and about to start school as a young witch.

Since he was already taking his own child to school, sending two was no trouble, so he had brought Roger along as well.

“Nothing here either,” Hannah replied from the front passenger seat.

Upon hearing this, Boss Abbott pressed the accelerator, and the car headed toward King’s Cross Station, where Platform Nine and Three-Quarters awaited.

During the journey, the idle Boss Abbott occasionally chatted with Hannah or exchanged a few words with Roger, but there was almost no conversation between Hannah and Roger themselves.

This wasn’t because of any conflict; in fact, they were fairly cordial. It was simply that neither had much interest in the other.

To Roger, Hannah was just a child, not mature enough in mind and lacking any interest in magic, so they had no common topics.

He’d rather spend that time reading a couple more magical books—it was far more beneficial for his growth.

As for Hannah, she had initially been a bit curious about Roger. After all, tavern patrons tended to boast after a few drinks, and their recent conversations centered on two topics:

One was the legendary savior starting school that year, Harry Potter; the other, the rumored prophet and fellow freshman, Roger Virgil.

In the mouths of the drinkers, these two were always exaggerated to mythical proportions.

Especially some of the older patrons, who often linked these children to the towering figures of their own generation, those who stood above all others... After all, there were many similarities, weren’t there?

But after more interaction, Hannah found Roger to be quite ordinary—he spent all his time reading, like a bookworm.

He was completely unlike the type of person a little girl would be drawn to.

Sometimes she even wondered to herself, “Could the savior Harry Potter also be like this, so different from the rumors?”

Seeing the two children completely ignoring each other, Boss Abbott sighed inwardly.

As a tavern owner experienced in reading people, he could tell that Roger was the type who could devote all his energy to one thing without distraction. Even if he wasn’t a prophet, it was unlikely he wouldn’t achieve something significant in the future.

Moreover, since he thought Roger was a decent person, he naturally hoped his own child could become friends with him.

The wizarding world was never peaceful. Where there were people, there were conflicts.

Although the vast majority of British wizards came from Hogwarts and were, strictly speaking, brothers and sisters in magic, conflicts still existed.

The disputes of the older generation were often passed down to the students through words and deeds.

In the closed environment of Hogwarts, struggles and rivalries between students never ceased.

Whether at school or in society, having a powerful figure to watch over you was never a bad thing.

Strong wizards and pure-blood families who controlled resources were the real rulers of the wizarding community. Being on good terms with them could even trigger effects like “boss photo to repel enemies.”

Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed. The two had no intention of becoming friends. Boss Abbott could only hope that Roger would help Hannah if she encountered trouble at school and he was unable to intervene.

...

“Spatial teleportation, precise cognitive distortion... impressive,” Roger murmured softly as he pushed a trolley loaded with school uniforms, cauldrons, and an owl cage through Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King’s Cross Station, staring at the deep crimson Hogwarts Express before him.

Just now at King’s Cross, a group of wizarding parents were chatting about Muggles, while the children passed through the platform, disappearing without catching the attention of any ordinary Muggles nearby. It was absurd to think about.

“Is it a territorial enchantment? Once you enter the area, your will is automatically confused?” Roger pondered the scene he had just witnessed.

“Roger, it’s time to go,” a voice behind him interrupted his thoughts.

“We’ve already wasted some time. If we don’t board soon, the train will be full. You don’t want to stand the whole way, do you?” Hannah urged.

“Of course not,” Roger replied as he moved forward.

They pushed through the crowded platform together—the noise of the crowd, the cries of various magical creatures, and the thick steam from the train’s engine all mingled, causing their brows to furrow as they advanced.

Occasionally, children who had already boarded leaned against the windows, bidding farewell to their families. The cacophony was truly unsettling.

Hannah’s concern was justified. By the time Roger boarded, the front compartments of the train were already fully occupied.

The middle and rear carriages were similar—not completely full, but with few empty seats.

“Looks like I’ll have to share a seat,” Roger thought to himself.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a toad clinging to the door of one carriage.

After some futile attempts to open the tightly shut door, it turned its dull eyes toward Roger as he approached, then jumped warily to another spot.

That was...

When Roger was just two meters away, a somewhat simple, boyish voice reached his ears.

“Grandma, I lost Trevor again!”

The boy was leaning against the carriage window, his voice tinged with tears and helplessness.

“Ah, Neville...” On the platform, the elderly woman watching her grandson’s miserable face wore an expression of helpless resignation.

Click.

The door latch was pulled open.

“Excuse me, is this the Trevor you’re talking about?”

Neville turned his head to see a kind-looking boy with smooth blond hair standing there.

Before him floated a toad, frantically kicking its legs as if swimming, looking somewhat panicked.

“Trevor!” Neville’s eyes immediately widened in surprise and delight.

He scooped the toad into his arms.

Seeing this, Roger took the opportunity to speak. “Many compartments outside are full. Would you mind if I share this one?”

Rather than walking from carriage to carriage, asking if someone could accommodate him only to be rejected by those who had arranged to sit together or preferred quiet, this chance was convenient.

“Of course!” Neville was enthusiastic and welcoming to the good Samaritan who had helped find Trevor.

...

Roger knew very well that this lost toad was the very reason Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley—the original destined trio—first met.

His actions might cause some disturbances to the future he knew.

But he didn’t care.

The so-called plot was merely a set of possible events within the next seven years.

Even a butterfly’s faint wingbeat could stir up a storm thousands of miles away. As long as he existed, he would affect others and cause unknown consequences.

But was he going to waste energy worrying about how each of his actions might affect the storyline?

Thinking about such nonsense every day—was there even time to learn magic?

Ridiculous.

As a prophet, Roger had always believed there was no such thing as destiny.

He didn’t believe that having his own world would be worse than not having one.

If he weren’t so weak now, if he could withstand Voldemort’s possible contingencies and the scattered Death Eaters’ revenge, and if he had actually watched the movies about the Order of the Phoenix instead of relying on hearsay and brief clips, he might have reported all the Horcrux information directly to Dumbledore.

Although Roger didn’t care much about matters beyond his path to immortality... at least, he owed Dumbledore a great debt. He would never let Dumbledore lie forgotten in a grave years from now.

Nor would he watch Dumbledore lose student after student he cared deeply about, shedding tears endlessly.

Wouldn’t that make the favor Roger owed seem cheap?