"Yes, a natural Animagus in the loosest sense," Roger said. "But as a Maledictus grows older, she eventually loses her emotions and reason, degenerating into a true beast."
He pointed toward the bag, making Hermione's face tighten. "That was why I shouted at you earlier. There is a viper inside, and she turned out to be a Maledictus."
"Can I… can I see her?" Hermione asked. Her fear was obvious, but curiosity shone even brighter in her eyes.
"No," Roger said firmly, shaking his head. "She is dangerous, Hermione. Even the troll we encountered might not be her match."
Hermione gasped and stared at the old bag. If she had opened it on the train without knowing, she might already have been dead. The thought made her hands instinctively draw back from the table.
"If she is that dangerous, why bring her to school?" Hermione asked.
"Hm. Some people say Hogwarts is safer than Gringotts," Roger said, patting the bag lightly. "Although I nearly got smashed into a meat pie by a troll on Halloween, so I have some reservations."
He gave a helpless shrug, then became more serious. "I need the professors' help to try to break the Maledictus curse."
His sincerity moved Hermione. She looked at him for a moment, then nodded without asking further about the dark magic books in the trunk.
Outside the train, the road to Hogwarts was rough and muddy. Several Thestral-drawn carriages stopped and started along the path, swaying as they carried students back toward the castle. The air was cold, and the wheels creaked softly through the damp ground.
"Roger, what are you looking at?" Hermione asked curiously.
She followed his gaze toward the front of the carriage, but there was nothing there as far as she could see. The empty space only made Roger's expression feel stranger.
"Thestrals," Roger said quietly. "You can only see them if you have witnessed death."
A complicated look crossed his face, and the reflection of the creatures appeared in his pupils. The Thestrals had large black heads and wings as thin, vast, and powerful as a bat's. Their entire bodies seemed wrapped in a curtain of shadow, like death itself had solidified into bone and skin.
Upon closer inspection, faint blue light glimmered in their skeletal faces. Their eyes were strange and silent, watching the world with a patience that did not belong to ordinary creatures.
"What a terrifying creature," Hermione whispered.
After hearing Roger's description, she instinctively hugged her arms. She felt fortunate that she could not see them, but at the same time, she felt sorry that Roger could.
"They are born from the shadow of death and possess mysterious powers related to it," Roger said.
He gazed at the invisible beasts pulling the carriage and quietly marvelled again at the wonders of the magical world.
.....
The new term began with both disappointment and relief. Elena had transferred back to Moscow, leaving only a farewell letter behind. In it, she wrote that her new school was called Koldovstoretz, and before Roger could even finish wondering what Russian magical education looked like, Professor Snape summoned him to the classroom.
After several months of study, Roger had begun calling Snape "Professor" with a different tone, one closer to "teacher" than merely "Head of House." Snape neither accepted nor rejected it. He simply kept his usual stern expression, as though acknowledging human affection would personally offend him.
The pale winter sunlight lingered a little longer than before, but Snape's face remained gloomy enough to suggest the entire world owed him a dead wife. He made no mention of the Christmas gift he had given Roger, nor did he say anything about the cloak Roger had sent him. His long black hair remained slightly greasy, his robes were still black enough to swallow candlelight, and his eyes were cold and intimidating.
Standing in the fading light near the dungeon classroom, Snape informed Roger that the potion assignment system was suspended. Roger's mouth immediately twitched upward, thinking the man had finally discovered mercy. Unfortunately, the smile had barely formed before Snape spoke again in a voice as cold as the dungeon stones.
"I will inspect your potions at any time," Snape said. "And they must be brewed in front of me."
This was completely different from ordinary classroom practice. Calling Snape demanding would have been far too gentle, because his standards were almost cruel. He asked questions at any moment, and if Roger gave even a slightly inaccurate answer, Snape made him stop, clear the table, and begin again.
At the end, Snape would criticise every imperfection for an hour. The placement of the test tubes, the heat under the cauldron, the angle of a stirring rod, and even droplets of water left inside a crucible could become evidence of unacceptable carelessness. By the time Roger escaped the dungeon each day, he felt less like a student and more like a prisoner released from interrogation.
"Phew. This week is finally over," Roger muttered as he dragged his exhausted body out of the dungeon.
He leaned against the corridor wall and took a slow breath. "Damn Snape. Just you wait."
With his textbooks in hand, he walked into the library, only to meet Madam Pince's sharp, watchful stare at once. Roger lowered his voice immediately and moved toward his usual seat, still muttering under his breath.
"I refuse to believe I cannot become a matchmaker," he murmured. "I simply refuse."
He had no idea how Snape's pen-pal relationship was progressing, but he was stubborn enough to believe that even a bat living in a dungeon could be coaxed toward sunlight with sufficient strategy. Whether Snape appreciated that strategy was an entirely different matter.
Roger sat down in his usual place and pulled out a thick error log. He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the final page, because he had finally passed Snape's test for the White Violet Potion. Beneath the hand-drawn potion diagram, he signed his name with a flourish.
"I really want to reward myself," Roger said, standing up suddenly in the middle of the library.
Under Madam Pince's deadly stare, he slowly sat back down and became limp with disappointment. "There is nothing to do."
Hogwarts had no game consoles, no karaoke rooms, and apart from wizarding music, flying brooms, and pranks, there were hardly any proper entertainment options. Roger gave a bitter smile, feeling that medieval castles were romantic only when one did not have to live in them.
"Fine. Let's figure out how to make money instead."
Roger pulled out the design proposal Andrew had sent and began writing comments for further revisions. The rebuilding plan for Travis Manor still required a terrifying number of Galleons, and his mother's approved budget was not enough to satisfy even the most modest magical contractor.
"Hm? What is wrong?" Roger asked when he noticed Hermione sitting nearby with a gloomy expression.
"It is nothing," Hermione said, pouting.
She sat to the side and clearly had no intention of explaining. Roger took the book from her anyway, but before he could ask again, he saw Harry and Ron standing awkwardly near the library entrance.
"Well, well. What rare guests," Roger said.
Under Madam Pince's surveillance, Harry and Ron carefully carried several books over and placed them on the table. Although the group sat close together, the two Gryffindor boys clearly had no intention of greeting Roger. The atmosphere became strangely stiff at once.
"As long as you swing the hoe well, there is no corner you cannot dig up," Roger thought with a sly smile. "The internet people did not lie to me."
"Harry, Nicolas Flamel is not in this book either," Ron muttered, scratching his head in frustration.
Ever since Hagrid had accidentally let the name slip, the two of them had searched through every document they could think of. Recent wizarding books, modern magical history, and famous biographies all seemed to have avoided mentioning a wizard named Nicolas Flamel.
"I am sure I have heard the name somewhere," Harry said, closing the book in confusion. "I just cannot remember where."
"How about we ask Hermione?" Harry suggested quietly.
Ron wrinkled his nose and hesitated for a long time before nodding. "You ask."
He had offended Hermione badly and did not want to make himself look foolish. Harry gave him a helpless glance, then stood and walked toward Hermione's seat.
"Hermione, may I sit here?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded, and Harry quickly sat down. He hesitated when he noticed Roger beside her, because Roger and Snape were close. Telling Roger anything was nearly the same as handing the information straight to Snape.
"I suddenly remembered that I still have an experiment to do," Roger said with a kind smile. "Hermione, see you tomorrow."
Inwardly, he found Harry's caution almost funny. If Harry wanted to know about Nicolas Flamel, he might as well have asked Roger directly. At least then the answer would have come faster.
"Roger…" Hermione said softly when she saw he was not angry. "See you tomorrow."
Harry waited until Roger was gone before cautiously asking, "Hermione, do you know Nicolas Flamel?"
Hermione put down Great Discoveries in Modern Magic and blurted out, "Manstein."
"Who is Manstein?" Harry asked, instantly excited. Hermione really did know something.
"No, not Manstein," Hermione said, shaking her head as she remembered Roger mixing up the two names before. "It is Nicolas Flamel."
"Hermione, you have completely confused me," Harry said. He had no idea who Manstein was, or why Hermione had said that name first.
"Do you have any Chocolate Frog cards?" Hermione asked.
"Cards?" Harry grew even more confused. "What do Chocolate Frog cards have to do with Nicolas Flamel?"
"Dumbledore's card."
"Oh, wait. Ron has some," Harry said quickly.
He waved Ron over, and Ron approached with a stiff expression. Hermione gave a soft hmph but did not object when he sat beside Harry and pulled a Dumbledore card from his pocket.
"Look here," Hermione said, pointing to one line on the card that described Dumbledore's achievements. "He is famous for his defeat of Grindelwald, his discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner Nicolas Flamel."
"So that is it!" Harry exclaimed, finally realising why the name had felt so familiar.
"Keep quiet in the library," Madam Pince snapped.
Harry immediately lowered his voice. "Hermione, are there any books about him?"
His eyes shone with eagerness, because he felt they were finally getting closer to the truth.
.....
Elsewhere, Roger rested on a sofa inside the Room of Requirement. Other places might not be safe from monitoring, but at least here he could think without worrying about hidden eyes. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and began sorting through everything he had forgotten.
"Let me think," he murmured.
He had been so busy lately that he had almost completely neglected Harry's side of the story. "Second term of first year… Hagrid gets a dragon. Harry breaks curfew and gets caught. Then comes detention in the Forbidden Forest, the unicorn, and…"
Roger suddenly sat up.
"Fine. So you were waiting for me there."
If he had not heard Nicolas Flamel's name by chance, he might have completely forgotten that he had not received detention last year. In the original path, that detention would have taken Harry into the Forbidden Forest and let him encounter Voldemort feeding on unicorn blood.
Roger stroked his wand thoughtfully. Although Voldemort was currently only a fragmented soul, Professor Quirrell was still a proper adult wizard. Roger spent most of his time competing against students his own age, and he was not entirely sure how his current strength would fare against a grown wizard in a real fight.
He quickly activated his simulation ability and let the possible future unfold. First, he found Snape and brought up the matter of detention, but Snape merely told him to return and wait for news. Soon after, Roger received a note instructing him to meet at the gate at eleven o'clock at night.
In the simulation, Hagrid divided the students into groups, and Roger was assigned to a different path. In the Forbidden Forest, he encountered Professor Quirrell, who was hunting unicorns. His vigilance paid off, and he managed to interrupt Quirrell's spell in time.
Then the situation changed. Quirrell altered the direction of an arrow fired by a centaur, and Roger was accidentally injured. Hagrid saved him, but while he lay in the hospital wing recovering, he missed both the Philosopher's Stone and the House Cup.
.....
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