Chapter 7: The Magical Beast, the Wand, and the Spellbook

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In Roger’s slightly yellowed memories, worn by the passage of time, the “savior of the British wizarding world” and the “defeater” of the mysterious figure Harry Potter received a similar reception upon entering the Leaky Cauldron.

However, there was quite a significant difference between himself and Harry Potter.

After a brief silence, Harry’s arrival instantly ignited a roaring commotion; crowds gathered eagerly, wanting to catch a glimpse of the savior, desperate to shake his hand and take photos as everlasting mementos.

For a moment, the people welcomed him with genuine warmth, brimming with vitality and a sense of burgeoning life, an image still vivid in memory.

Yet, on Roger’s side, after a fleeting silence, there was only utter stillness.

Those wizards who were not well-informed acted like mice confronting a cat upon seeing Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor.

The British wizarding community was too small; nearly all wizards had come from Hogwarts. Faced with Professor McGonagall, these troublemakers who had been wayward students and now spent their days idling in taverns instinctively lowered their heads.

But those who were well-informed, who mingled with the upper echelons of wizard society, regarded Roger as if he were another mysterious figure.

His body was rigid.

He was completely frozen, unconsciously afraid to move.

As the trial concluded, more information about Roger ceased to be confidential and became widely known.

Roger had personally killed over ninety people, and the number of those indirectly killed because of him exceeded that figure by more than an order of magnitude.

If an outsider familiar with this part of history had observed Roger’s actions, they would notice that the overall course of the war had shifted significantly due to Roger’s existence, altering it much like the Gulf War did in another world.

The battlefield footage that was released caused many young wizards, who had lived entirely within the wizarding world and had never witnessed the terrifying reality of Muggle modern warfare, to lose their appetite for meat for quite some time.

Neither Professor McGonagall nor Roger paid any mind to the cold reception.

The two walked straight through the silent crowd and headed toward the back of the Leaky Cauldron.

With a gentle tap of his wand on the bricks of the alleyway wall, the door to the magical world opened for Roger.

The noise and bustle, people dressed in all manner of strange and exotic clothing intermingling on the streets, haggling and shouting, and the dazzling brilliance of magic flashing intermittently before Roger’s eyes.

This was the commercial heart of the British wizarding world, yet compared to the upscale, grand business districts, it felt more like a bustling marketplace.

Roger’s first impression of the place was...

“Cognitive distortion—truly a terrifying kind of magic.”

Diagon Alley lay in London, the capital of England, yet among the millions of Londoners, a significant part of the city’s map was “missing” and no one noticed.

Such a thing was chilling to contemplate.

If he had possessed this spell during the war, he would never have needed to lead guerrilla campaigns; he could simply hide somewhere and survive easily.

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Survival would shift instantly from hellish difficulty to simple mode.

Roger gradually understood why, in his past memories, wizards held Muggles in such contempt.

Anyone would lose respect for a group whose minds could be manipulated at will.

Even if that group had the power to harm or even kill them.

Of course, Roger did not think this way; having truly experienced the horror of death and war, he would never underestimate any existence.

Stepping into Diagon Alley, the two proceeded onward.

Their first destination was the wizarding bank, Gringotts.

Hogwarts was a seven-year boarding school, a school of magic.

Tuition, books, equipment, even uniforms were magical items.

All had to be purchased with wizard currency; here, no American dollars, euros, or pounds were recognized—only wizard gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts.

But indeed, there were young wizards like Roger—awakened from non-magical families with no connection to wizardry—who had no money at all.

Therefore, Hogwarts provided certain conveniences: with proof of enrollment, students could exchange limited amounts of Muggle currency for wizard money at Gringotts.

For those too poor to even have Muggle currency, special interest-free student loans were available for exceptional circumstances.

...This money came from the Ministry of Magic’s education budget.

Though Roger had little money, he did not need to borrow student loans.

At Gringotts, guided by a diminutive goblin, Roger exchanged some pounds for Galleons.

This sum was just enough for a student to purchase everything needed and still have enough for living expenses.

...

“Are you looking for something?” At the Writings’ Nook bookstore, after Roger finished buying his first-year textbooks and was wandering about the cluttered shop, Professor McGonagall asked with some puzzlement.

Their shopping trip had gone smoothly: cauldron, uniform, flying broomstick, magical pet, and wand had all been purchased; now, only the last stop remained.

Roger chose an owl for his magical pet rather than the more common cats, dogs, toads, or ravens.

First, an owl could help maintain communication with the outside world, which was not very convenient at Hogwarts.

Second, other pets required personal care for feeding and cleaning, whereas Roger could house the owl in the Owlery in Hogwarts’ West Tower and entrust its care to the school.

This arrangement would save him a great deal of time over the years.

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Regarding the wand, like Harry Potter, Roger visited Ollivanders, the wand shop dating back to 382 BCE—around the Zhou Dynasty in ancient China—and still one of the three major wand makers in Europe.

Master wandmaker Ollivander tried many wands on Roger.

Good-natured idealists favored apple wood; battle-hardened wizards often chose willow; adventurers preferred maple; those with keen intuition and honesty selected spade wood; hazel suited those skilled at controlling emotions; and then there was elder wood, legendary for its power and misfortune, which had gone unsold for many years.

All six types matched well with Roger; he could use any of them, but Ollivander felt none were quite right.

The compatibility between a wand and its user greatly affects spellcasting; a wand is not something one can simply use upon receiving it.

Until Ollivander produced the seventh wand.

When Roger grasped it, he instantly felt a completely different, exhilarating sense of comfort throughout his body.

Ten inches long, made of fir wood, with a core of unicorn tail hair, known for stable spellcasting.

Fir was not particularly rare; some wizards possessed such wands, usually masters with distinguished reputations in various fields.

It suited those who were lucky, patient, strong-willed, enlightened, and whose thoughts and goals were exceptionally clear.

Ollivander rarely saw pre-enrollment young wizards who resonated with fir wood, let alone one as perfectly matched as Roger.

Yet Ollivander did not place much importance on this; as one of Europe’s top three wandmakers whose family had crafted wands since ancient Greece over two millennia ago, he had witnessed countless strange phenomena and was no longer surprised by anything.

With wand in hand, Roger went to Writings’ Nook, the magic bookshop.

But after briefly flipping through his textbooks, his brow furrowed slightly.

Then he turned his gaze to the rows of bookshelves.

“I want to buy some other magic books,” Roger said with a thirst for knowledge, answering Professor McGonagall’s question.

Hearing this, McGonagall stopped him.

“Roger, I know you love magic, but recklessly delving into spells beyond your control is dangerous.”

“As first-year textbooks, ‘Standard Spells, Beginner’ and ‘Guide to Introductory Transfiguration’ are the most suitable—we consider them simple to learn, and failure won’t cause serious consequences. They’re perfect for you; there’s no need to look elsewhere.”

Looking back at the stern Professor McGonagall, Roger knew she had misunderstood him again.

It was not surprising; as a Hogwarts professor accustomed to dealing with various destructive troublemakers, her instincts went in that direction.

“No, I’m not looking for stronger magic.”

“What I want is something more fundamental.”

Roger’s expression was serious.

“For example, a comprehensive and detailed introduction to what magic truly is, and how it developed from ancient spells into the modern system of magic.”