Chapter 38: The Savior’s Fateful Fork in the Road

Today's Quidditch match went exactly as Roger had anticipated.

Hardly had the game begun when Harry caught the Golden Snitch, bringing it to an abrupt end. It was absurd—the audience had barely settled into their seats before it was time to leave, a far cry from the usual matches that could drag on for hours.

Watching the Slytherin team looking bewildered, the Gryffindor students—who had taken nearly ten seconds to realize they should be celebrating—and Harry, who was surrounded by his ecstatic teammates, Roger knew his decision to come had been the right one.

Roger had come to the pitch, but not out of concern for whether Harry felt disappointed. Roger was not a sentimental person. He had suddenly recalled that there was a piece of "after-sales service" regarding the neural system modifications he had performed on Harry that he had yet to address. As the saying goes, it is hard to teach someone through mere words, but experience leaves a lasting mark; a month ago, the timing had not been right. But now... perhaps the moment was perfect.

...

Some time after the match had concluded, the enthusiastic crowd surrounding the "hero of the hour," Harry, finally dispersed. This match was a momentous occasion for Gryffindor; not only had they won, but they had also set the record for the fastest match in Hogwarts Quidditch history. Such a moment of school history naturally called for a grand celebration.

Once the clamor had died down and the crowds had thinned, Roger quietly approached Harry. He noticed that Harry’s expression was off; he did not look like a triumphant youth basking in the highlight of his life. Instead, he looked rather forlorn.

"...Roger? Why are you here?" Seeing Roger approach, Harry rubbed his face, composed himself, and asked with a polite smile.

Having been classmates for over two months, Harry did not know Roger intimately, but he had a general grasp of his character. Roger rarely did anything unnecessary. If you asked for his help, he would provide it; if you asked a question, he would answer; if he saw something he found disagreeable, he might intervene. But he would never initiate a casual conversation or play games without a reason. He seemed to want to spend every waking moment buried in his books. If Roger took the initiative to approach you, there was no doubt he had something on his mind, and it was likely not a trivial matter.

"It’s nothing. I originally intended to offer you some counsel, but..." Roger noted the earlier anomaly in Harry's demeanor. Had fate taken another unexpected turn?

"What kind of counsel?" Harry asked eagerly, as if trying to hide something else.

Seeing Harry’s interest, Roger saw no reason to refuse. He flicked his finger, pulling a small pebble from a corner of the ground. "Harry, you know that I can perform the Levitation Charm wandlessly and silently."

Harry nodded. It was common knowledge among those who paid attention to Roger that he was exceptionally skilled in Levitation Charms and Transfiguration.

"Then, would you be interested in a contest to see whose Levitation Charm technique is more refined?" Roger asked.

Harry immediately waved his hands. "Wouldn't I be guaranteed to lose?"

"And do you think, if we truly held such a match, anyone would be interested in watching?"

"...I suppose some might." Despite the outcome being a foregone conclusion, given his fame as the Seeker and the Boy Who Lived, people would likely be curious to see it.

"But if we competed every single day, after a few months, how many people would still be interested? And wouldn't you feel that these matches, devoid of any suspense, were a form of torture?"

Harry fell silent. He was a bright boy; as Roger spoke, he began to grasp the underlying message.

"Harry, your skill level is far beyond that of the other players, and Quidditch is a sport where a Seeker can end the game in an instant," Roger said, dropping the riddles and speaking plainly. "If you continue to play like you did today..." He left the rest unsaid.

"However, your life’s path is yours to walk. I am merely pointing out the situation so you are aware of it. If you enjoy it, that is your freedom," Roger added lightly.

In truth, Quidditch was just a wizarding sport. Roger did not care much about how it evolved at Hogwarts or whether Harry’s presence caused students to lose interest in the game. What Roger genuinely worried about was whether the public pressure arising from Harry’s transition from a Quidditch prodigy to someone whom enthusiasts avoided would cause him harm—after all, it was he who had performed the neural modifications on Harry. If his actions were to leave a significant psychological shadow on Harry, that was something he did not want to see.

That was why he had come for this "after-sales service." If Harry insisted on this path, whether the future consequences were good or bad, it would be a path of his own choosing, and Roger would not interfere. Roger would help others, but he would not help with everything; he had no interest in cleaning up the messes of those who brought trouble upon themselves.

"Very well, the counsel is finished. Let’s talk about something else." Though he called it a talk, Roger did not ask a question, merely fixing his gaze on Harry’s eyes. He was simply curious about where fate had taken another divergent path. If Harry clearly refused, Roger would not force himself into someone else’s private affairs.

Feeling Roger’s gaze, Harry pursed his lips and hesitated for a few seconds. Finally, he spoke: "...I find myself missing my family."

The family Harry referred to was, of course, not the Dursleys. He was longing for his parents. Although Dumbledore had removed the Mirror of Erised and Harry had resolved to abandon the illusory reflection in favor of reality, the illusion of being "loved" that the mirror had provided had stirred a deep longing for his parents. Whenever the friends departed and he was left in the silence of solitude, he felt a lingering melancholy.

"I see." Roger had thought there was some other shift in destiny. Seeing Harry’s forlorn expression, he thought for a moment and said, "Harry, death is not the end of everything."

Harry Potter stared at him, not understanding.

"The power of magic is strong enough to twist time itself!" Roger thought of how, in *The Prisoner of Azkaban*, the three of them had "tricked time" to save the Hippogriff from execution. "Those who have passed are not necessarily gone forever. If you become powerful enough, you might one day have the ability to change everything."

"Of course, this is an extremely dangerous and forbidden path. If you truly wish to pursue it, you must be prepared to stake everything—not just your life, but the possibility that all traces of your past existence could be erased entirely."

"If you have that determination, I could tell you a little about the mysteries of this gateway... If you do not, then just pretend I never said anything."

Under Roger’s gaze, Harry’s eyes widened. "I..."

Deprived of his parents' love, having lived under the roof of others since childhood, and enduring the disdain of the Dursleys, the greatest desire reflected in the Mirror of Erised had been to be with his family. His answer, of course, could only be one.