Although Roger disliked deception, he understood the fundamental principle of concealing his abilities. This wasn't lying—it was simply telling half the story.
When one was still weak, flaunting wealth or talent was an invitation for trouble. The fewer people who knew the specifics of his abilities, the better.
To Professor McGonagall, Roger only mentioned that he planned to use his ability to foresee crises in conjunction with Transfiguration to modify his own life and extend his lifespan. However, he left out a crucial detail—his crisis prediction was not an occasional or conditional ability. It was permanent, something he could use at will. There was no need to elaborate on that.
Even so, what he revealed was enough to shock Professor McGonagall.
How long had it been since he borrowed her books? Just a few days at Hogwarts, and he had already advanced so far in magic?!
While Roger's spell repertoire was still limited, his thinking was not. In terms of pursuing longevity, his approach was sound. However…
"If your goal is just to extend your lifespan, then with your ability, that's feasible," Professor McGonagall said, eyes sharp with scrutiny. "But I recall that what you truly seek is immortality, isn't it?"
"Yes," Roger nodded without hesitation.
"Longevity and immortality may seem similar, but they are vastly different—just as a paramecium and a wizard are both carbon-based lifeforms, yet exist on entirely different levels."
As a master of Transfiguration and a former Ministry of Magic official, Professor McGonagall was not deeply versed in Muggle science, but she wasn't unfamiliar with its concepts either.
"Transfiguration is the magic of altering matter," she continued. "But life is more than just matter."
Roger immediately grasped the subtext. In the world of magic, the soul was an integral part of life. And beyond that, there was the mind—an even more enigmatic force, perhaps more mysterious than magic itself.
Even if he achieved physical immortality, what would happen to his soul under the erosion of time?
"I understand, Professor," Roger said thoughtfully. "But you can't achieve everything in one step. Immortality is my ultimate goal, but I have to take it gradually."
He paused, then added, "Among the many components of life, the most fragile is the body. That should be the first problem to solve. Once I ensure the body's longevity, I can tackle the rest in stages."
Professor McGonagall, who had maintained a serious demeanor throughout, suddenly allowed a faint smile to appear at the corner of her lips.
She had been testing him. And Roger had passed flawlessly.
The greatest pitfall in the pursuit of eternal life was impatience.
Wanting to avoid death was a desire many wizards shared. In both her years as a professor and during her tenure in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had seen too many individuals go astray—wizards who sought longevity but instead met premature ends.
Just as many Muggles worked tirelessly to accumulate wealth for a better life, only to forget why they started in the first place, losing themselves along the way.
Now, she was convinced: Roger was someone who could control his desires. Someone she could trust.
She had always known he was a good person. But being a good person wasn't the same as resisting temptation.
After all, as the saying went—power didn't corrupt; it revealed. Many seemed virtuous simply because they had never been given the opportunity to be otherwise.
Choosing to be good was different from merely being good.
And so, in this moment, she made her decision.
"I hope you'll always remember the resolve you have now," she said, her voice laced with quiet gravity.
Then, she handed Roger a slip of paper.
Roger's eyes widened the moment he saw it.
He had come here merely to consult Professor McGonagall, to see if his ideas had any gaps that needed to be addressed.
He hadn't expected this.
It was a gift he hadn't dared to hope for—one that came at the perfect time.
[Hogwarts Library – Professor's Restricted Section Borrowing Slip]
And it was blank. A universal pass.
This meant he could borrow any book from the Restricted Section.
The Hogwarts Library housed more than just general knowledge and academic journals. Within its depths lay books that students were forbidden to read—books filled with dangerous, powerful, and long-forgotten magic.
Now, they were within his reach.
The books in the Restricted Section were not necessarily of higher academic value than others in the library, but they contained dangerous and profound magic—spells unsuitable for students to even come into contact with.
And yet, for Roger, the information he needed—various texts on body modification, ancient research, and experimental records—was mostly found there.
Of course, these studies were not without risk. The early days of wizarding civilization were filled with gruesome, absurd, and ethically questionable body modification experiments. The sheer brutality of these attempts had left an indelible stain on history, their mental and moral repercussions immeasurable.
Professor McGonagall had only made this decision because she believed in Roger—his past experiences, his strong will, and his ability to stay true to his convictions.
Even so, she put safeguards in place.
"Dark magic is strictly off-limits," she said firmly. "Every book you borrow will be recorded by Madam Pince, and I'll be checking the list from time to time."
"Understood." Roger smiled. He knew exactly what McGonagall was worried about.
He was well aware of the dangers of dark magic. The allure of power that fed on emotions had no appeal to him. That was not the path he sought—the true path to transcendence.
"Harry, don't you think those two are a little… strange?"
After class, as they walked back to the Gryffindor dormitory, Ron shot a glance at his friend.
"Who?" Harry asked, already suspecting the answer. Ron Weasley was not one for quiet contemplation—if he had a thought, he voiced it, usually in the form of a complaint about his day.
"The two so-called 'Ravenclaws' in our Gryffindor year, of course!"
"One is downright insufferable—always acting like she knows everything, trying to prove how smart she is in every class… Tsk." Ron curled his lips in annoyance.
"And the other—well, he always looks like he's thinking about something. Every time we practice spells, he gets it right on the first try."
"But he never really talks to anyone. No one can get him to hang out, and whenever he has free time, he's buried in the library."
Ron shook his head, as if such behavior was beyond his comprehension. "His dormmates say that even after he gets back, he just keeps reading until lights out. Oh, for Merlin's sake."
Ron sighed dramatically. "Why is someone like that even in Gryffindor? Shouldn't he be in Ravenclaw?"
"Ron!" Harry frowned. "Don't talk about people behind their backs like that… Besides, they're not bad people."
Even without names, Harry knew exactly who Ron was talking about.
Hermione Granger.Roger Virgil.
Harry adjusted his glasses before speaking again.
"Did you notice?"
"Notice what?" Ron asked, confused.
"My glasses."
Ron blinked. "What about them?"
"They were cracked. Hermione noticed two days ago and fixed them for me with a simple Repairing Charm—without me even asking."
Harry didn't stop there. His voice grew more serious.
"And in Potions, Roger stepped in to help Neville. If he hadn't, that potion could've gone horribly wrong and hurt everyone nearby."
Harry turned to Ron, his gaze unwavering.
"They're both good people, Ron. Just because they're different doesn't mean you should talk about them like that."
Harry, more than most, understood what it meant to be isolated—to be labeled as "different." He had grown up without friends, bullied by his relatives and their son Dudley.
And he had learned something from those years: in any group, the moment people start calling someone "strange," isolation follows. And isolation leads to cruelty.
He didn't want that to happen here.
He didn't want Ron to become like Dudley.
"I…" Ron hesitated, looking guilty.
Before he could respond, a voice interrupted them.
"St-students sh-should love each other…"
The words were shaky, stammered, and unmistakable. The air was thick with the pungent scent of garlic.
They didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Professor Quirrell.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—rumored to have once fought vampires, and perhaps to still be hiding from them.
"Professor Quirrell," Harry and Ron greeted politely.
Quirrell, however, had another reason for approaching them. His pale lips twitched as he spoke.
"I h-heard you w-were talking about R-Roger," he said, his stutter barely concealing the keen interest in his tone.
"I'm… q-quite curious about him. W-what do the students th-think of him?"
His eyes held an odd gleam, something unreadable lurking beneath the nervous exterior.
After all, ten years ago, a prophecy had forced a dark figure to retreat into the shadows.
A dark figure who had once been fascinated by Arithmancy, by the meaning of numbers, by the mystery of seven—the number he had deliberately chosen for his Horcruxes.
How could such a man not be intrigued by a powerful seer?
How could Voldemort not take an interest in Roger Virgil?
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