Chapter 35: The Unbreakable Vow

Strictly speaking, Roger's magical journey has only just begun. Although Professor McGonagall’s books have broadened his horizons, understanding the general concept of advanced mathematics is not the same as mastering it; one must still start from the basics, like 1+1=2 and 2x2=4.

Roger’s precognitive intuition allows him to rapidly convert newly mastered "algorithms" into practical techniques, but it cannot accelerate the learning process itself. Many spells he masters quickly are a result of his innate talent, not his prophetic abilities. His gift provides an accelerated capacity for invention and development within the realms of the human body and self-improvement, but it cannot speed up foundational learning, nor can it conjure a desired technology out of thin air. When looking up at the stars, one must still keep one’s feet firmly on the ground.

Much like his approach to magic, once Roger decided to resolve the matter of the Sorcerer's Stone himself rather than letting Harry get involved, he planned to proceed step by step. If things could be settled through conversation, he would talk. If not, he would resort to force. If force still failed, he would move to his final plan. Although Voldemort was currently nothing more than a weakened remnant of a soul and not particularly strong in terms of raw power, a sinking ship still has its nails. It would be disastrous if Voldemort possessed some hidden trump card that harmed a professor or a student.

The incident with the troll was quickly resolved. As a low-intelligence magical creature, once its location was confirmed, a professor could easily neutralize it. Professor Quirrell, stunned by Roger’s words and now certain that Roger possessed the Sorcerer's Stone, did not cause any chaos as he might have in the original timeline. Instead, at the stroke of midnight, when everything seemed to have calmed down, he arrived at the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle, near a tapestry embroidered with a painting.

"Professor, you aren't going to report me for violating school rules by wandering at night, are you?" Roger, who had been waiting there, asked with a playful tone as Quirrell finally appeared.

Quirrell no longer wore his usual timid mask, the one where he couldn't even bring himself to look students in the eye. His face was now clouded with gloom, his gaze cold and sharp.

"You didn't ask me here just to exchange idle chatter, did you?" Quirrell’s lips did not move, but a low, sinister voice emanated from the back of his head.

When Roger had whispered the truth of his identity in the Great Hall, they had arranged to meet here tonight. Voldemort was in a foul mood. He had assumed this "prophet" could not foresee his actions, or at least intended to mind his own business and coexist peacefully. He never expected Roger to pull the rug out from under him like this.

"Well, since you aren't interested in small talk, let’s get straight to the point. Could you do me the favor of dropping your pursuit, as I asked?" Roger said with a smile.

"And why should I?" Voldemort replied succinctly.

Voldemort had not been all-powerful from the start; on his path to greatness, he had certainly played his part in deception and compromise. But why should he yield now? Because an eleven-year-old boy, a small prophet who barely knew many spells, told him to back off? What a joke.

Roger didn't answer directly, saying instead, "I am actually doing this for your own good. You were never going to get this stone, so why waste your effort?"

"...Prophecy?" Voldemort caught the implication. He let out a disdainful chuckle. "I am the one who masters destiny. Spare me your riddling parlor tricks."

Voldemort was a man who believed in destiny—his number of Horcruxes and his obsession with Harry Potter proved as much. But Voldemort was never one to submit to it! He studied arithmancy to command fate, to harness its power for greater achievement. It wasn't that the Savior *had* to be Harry Potter; it was that Voldemort *chose* Harry Potter, and thus, he became the Savior. It was an amusing irony: the more one could see of destiny, the more one wanted to prove that man could conquer it, even if they were usually busy profiting from its power. A prophet said he couldn't obtain the stone? Voldemort refused to believe it.

"Mastering destiny?" Roger recalled how, in the original timeline, Voldemort had—like some figure in Greek tragedy—single-handedly engineered his own downfall. He shook his head helplessly. "It seems words alone won't convince you."

"Let's play a little game," Roger said, taking the final step he had hesitated to take, pushing open a door that had appeared on the wall. It was the Room of Requirement; it appears after one walks past that section of the wall three times. Fortunately, Roger had anticipated that things might not go smoothly and had made preparations.

"I hear you enjoy studying destiny, Mr. Voldemort. But in all your years, you’ve never actually faced a true prophet, have you?" During Voldemort’s rise, Grindelwald had already been imprisoned by Dumbledore. Besides Grindelwald, those in the wizarding world today who claimed some prophetic ability were light-years away from being true, let alone powerful, prophets. "Don't you find that a bit regrettable?"

As the door opened, the inside of the room revealed itself to be a vast, empty space, resembling a Quidditch pitch. Sensing the scene within, Voldemort roughly guessed what Roger intended. A smirk curled beneath his turban. "What game do you want to play?"

"What do you think is the gap in strength between me and Professor Quirrell?"

Voldemort considered this. "Your potential is high, but it is far from realized. From my observations, you know fewer than thirty spells, and most you aren't proficient in. Only your Transfiguration, Levitation, and those spells you’ve researched yourself are mastered. Your Transfiguration is at a level that could be used in combat, which is rare, and your mental fortitude is decent, but... you have no experience fighting a wizard."

"As for Quirrell, though he is a fool, he barely meets the standard of a typical Hogwarts faculty member. If you fought head-on, I’d say it’s seventy-thirty. Seventy for Quirrell, thirty for you," Voldemort said truthfully.

Roger nodded without refuting him. "Good. Then I’ll announce the rules. They’re simple."

"If Professor Quirrell defeats me in a magical duel, the stone is yours, and I’ll even wager one of my arms. The battle won't be decided in one match, nor a best-of-three. From this moment until the end of the school year, Professor Quirrell will have one opportunity to challenge me every week. If he wins even once, you win."

"The conditions are: you may provide verbal guidance or teach him magical knowledge to improve his strength, but you cannot intervene in the battle directly. You may not use any other means to obtain the stone until our game is over. Naturally, I will not use powers beyond my own to influence the fight, such as calling in other professors."

"How about it?" Roger appeared perfectly at ease.

Voldemort did a quick calculation. From now until the end of the term in June, that was about thirty-four chances. And he could provide off-field coaching. Thirty-four battles, and he only needed one victory.

"Heh heh heh, interesting. I accept." Voldemort did not believe his judgment could be that flawed. Even if Roger's strength differed from his estimate, it wouldn't be by much. Voldemort understood the true "riddle" of this game: the young prophet wanted to show him how a prophet toys with destiny. He wanted to prove that it was impossible for Voldemort to take the stone from him. Very well, if he wanted to play, Voldemort would not refuse. He was also curious to see how the power of destiny would manifest in the hands of a prophet. As for simply flipping the table and attacking now? Voldemort didn't believe a prophet would come unprepared.

"Then, it’s a deal." Roger extended his right hand for a shake.

The seemingly friendly gesture made Professor Quirrell’s pupils shrink.

*The Unbreakable Vow!*

Once the agreement was made, failure to fulfill the requirements would result in the spell backfiring, leading to death. Quirrell carefully reviewed the "conditions" and, after confirming there were no traps, tremblingly grasped Roger’s hand.

"Both of you?" Roger asked with a hint of confusion.

After a few seconds of silence, Voldemort manipulated Quirrell’s other hand to grasp Roger’s as well. The three parties confirmed the terms. The spell was cast!

Roger wore a satisfied smile. Now he didn't have to worry about unforeseen events causing harm to other students or professors. He had abandoned the original path of destiny because he didn't want Harry’s spirit to be broken, but he also didn't want innocent people to suffer because of his choices.

Therefore, it was enough for him to carry the burden alone.