Magic is a complex and intricate discipline. For most wizards, mastering even a single branch of magic is an incredible challenge. Innovating and advancing in multiple fields? Only a rare few are capable of such feats—those who possess true power and unparalleled skill.
While Professor McGonagall was certainly a formidable witch, even she wasn't quite on that level.
She had a solid understanding of alchemy, but her true expertise lay in Transfiguration. Alchemy had been more of a side interest, something she initially studied to explore how Transfiguration could be expanded. She'd hoped to create alchemical items through Transfiguration, but after a few failed experiments and only minimal progress, she'd set alchemy aside.
Still, even her limited knowledge was enough to teach Roger, a complete novice, the basics.
Professor McGonagall, however, had her own reasons for teaching him. Over time, she'd realized just how determined and stubborn Roger was. He wasn't one to easily take advice or back down. No matter the risks—no matter the near-certain danger—he would pursue what he believed to be right.
She hadn't forgotten their conversation in front of the Leaky Cauldron. The idea of reversing time, of seeking redemption through the river of time… Life was long, and who didn't have regrets?
As a teacher and someone who had come to care about him personally, Professor McGonagall genuinely hoped that Roger would live a long and meaningful life. She hoped to guide him onto a safer path, one that didn't involve risking his own body. Experimenting with external objects was far less dangerous and far more forgiving.
Learning alchemy wasn't something that could be mastered in a day—it would take time and patience. But if anyone could push through that challenge, it was Roger.
After agreeing that she would personally set aside time to teach him, Roger and Professor McGonagall left the Deputy Headmistress's office and made their way to the spacious courtyard of Hogwarts Castle, where Madam Rolanda Hooch's flying lesson was about to begin.
Hogwarts had a unique approach to teaching: the first principle was to teach students according to their aptitude. Ordinary students took regular classes, while those with more ambition could study independently, join small teacher-led groups, and explore additional courses. Whether working as a laborer or at the Ministry of Magic, there was always room for advancement.
The second principle was unity and competition. Despite being divided into four houses, the students weren't isolated. In fact, many classes encouraged interaction by pairing two houses together for shared lessons. For example, Gryffindor and Slytherin would have their flying lesson together, while the next lesson might involve Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
Today, it was the Gryffindors and Slytherins who were paired for the flying lesson. The two houses lined up in rows, casting occasional glances at each other, some teasing, others competitive. It was a typical moment of rivalry. But when they saw Roger's arrival, the tension in the air became palpable. The playful atmosphere shifted, and even the students of both houses seemed to stiffen.
Draco Malfoy, still bitter from his earlier encounters with Harry Potter, withdrew his glare and turned his attention to his broomstick. After the last incident, in which Roger had "sanctioned" him for causing trouble, Malfoy had learned to steer clear of provoking the Seer.
Roger, however, pretended to be unaware of the sudden shift in energy. He engaged Madam Hooch in conversation, along with Professor McGonagall, maintaining a calm demeanor.
Rolanda Hooch, though mild-mannered and conservative, had some reservations about Harry, a first-year, becoming a Seeker for the school Quidditch team. She frowned slightly but didn't openly object. After all, she was only a flying instructor, while Harry was not only the "Savior" of the wizarding world but also backed by the authority of the Deputy Headmistress and a Seer. Even if she disagreed, there was little she could do to intervene.
Things proceeded smoothly. Harry's natural talent for flying was already impressive. With the enhancements Roger had secretly made to Harry's physical abilities, Harry was a force to be reckoned with. It only took a little more training to refine his skills, and Harry would be fully capable of joining a team like the Quidditch World Cup. He was already at the level of a second-tier national team player, competing in an amateur event.
When Harry executed a series of difficult maneuvers in front of the professors, following Roger's instructions, even Madam Hooch, who had initially been skeptical about any first-year's potential, was left speechless. She had always despised special privileges and anyone forcing their way into a team, but after seeing Harry's skills firsthand, her opinion shifted dramatically.
She watched him intently, her eyes practically sparkling. "Good, a very good seed!" she murmured, already imagining Harry dominating the Quidditch World Cup in the future.
Professor McGonagall, too, was pleased. She nodded with satisfaction. It seemed that this year, she wouldn't have to worry about Snape's antics. Roger, standing a little off to the side, felt a sense of satisfaction. The coming Quidditch season promised to be a thrilling one.
Harry, having just performed several high-difficulty maneuvers, could tell from the expressions on the professors' faces that he was in.
But just as the group was basking in the good mood, an unexpected accident occurred.
"I said, I don't need your help!" Ron, still covered in grass stains, stood up with a grunt.
"Hahahahaha!" Draco Malfoy couldn't contain his laughter when he saw the long red mark on Ron's face, left by the broomstick's wooden handle. It was the perfect opportunity for Malfoy to mock the Weasley family, whom his family had long considered a stain on the pure-blood honor.
Ron's embarrassment was Draco's amusement.
Hermione Granger, looking concerned, opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated, unsure of how to intervene.
Seeing that Hermione still wanted to speak, Ron's temper flared. Ignoring Draco's mocking, he felt his blood pressure rise and his face flush with anger. He turned sharply to Hermione, his voice louder than intended: "I said! I'm fed up with you! Fed up with your condescending attitude, your constant meddling! No wonder you don't have any friends!"
The words almost exploded out of him, filled with frustration and resentment.
As soon as the last word left his mouth, Hermione's eyes welled up with tears, her breath coming in rapid gasps. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words never came. The weight of Ron's harshness left her speechless, a lump rising in her throat.
Hermione Granger, a young witch from a Muggle family, had never belonged to this magical world. Her family had no connections to magic, and it had been a letter of acceptance to Hogwarts that had drawn her into this strange and foreign land. At first, she was both curious and terrified. She immersed herself in books, arming herself with knowledge to cope with the overwhelming fear of being alone in a world where she had no family, no guide.
Then she met Roger.
She discovered that certain skills, which only a handful of elite wizards could master, were within the reach of truly talented wizards—wizards who had learned them at a young age. It shattered her confidence. What she had struggled to even begin understanding, Roger could easily perform with little effort. But as time passed and she began studying at Hogwarts, she realized Roger was an exception. Most young wizards, in fact, were no more skilled than she was.
Yet, the sting of inadequacy still lingered. The young wizards from magical families were often familiar with each other before they even entered Hogwarts, while Hermione, the outsider, was left to navigate the social landscape alone. The feeling of being excluded—of being different—made her isolation even more palpable.
She longed for friends, for recognition, for acceptance in a world where her background made her feel like an outsider. And she thought she had found the answer: Roger.
He, too, came from a Muggle family, but he had gained the respect and recognition of everyone around him effortlessly. His reputation as a Seer, his talents, and his defiance of the rules had made him a figure of both awe and fear. The students, even those who were cautious of him, respected him. They trusted him.
"If you're struggling, go to Roger," the whispers started to circulate among the students.
Hermione, looking up to him, decided to emulate Roger. She began to adopt his defiant attitude, using her own version of arrogance to stand apart from others. She spent long hours in the library, following his example by dedicating herself to her studies. She offered help to others, pointing out their mistakes and offering guidance, just as Roger had done.
But it didn't bring the results she hoped for. Despite her efforts, the loneliness didn't dissipate. Her peers still kept her at arm's length, and her attempts to connect were met with cold distance.
Today, the feeling of rejection felt sharper than ever.
In contrast, Ron's situation was different. He came from a large family, and in that crowded space, his status as one of many brothers had always left him feeling overlooked. His childhood had been a series of disappointments. He had always wanted to be special, to be someone who commanded attention and respect, like the Quidditch captain he'd admired from afar—someone strong and admired.
But after entering Hogwarts, Ron had realized that his natural talent didn't measure up. His progress seemed slow, his skills mediocre at best. So, he began to coast, retreating into distractions like wizard's chess and doing the bare minimum to get by.
Now, his best friend, Harry, was on the brink of becoming the person Ron had always dreamed of being. Ron was happy for Harry, but a pang of bitterness and sadness gnawed at him. Harry had what he longed for—the talent, the recognition, the respect.
Ron glanced at his broomstick, a spark of determination flickering in his eyes. What if? What if I could be like Harry? The thought wouldn't leave him. The voice inside him urged, Try it, just try it.
He took to the skies, attempting some low-altitude maneuvers—skills he'd seen Quidditch players perform on the news. It wasn't perfect, but he was determined to push himself, to see if he, too, could be good at this.
Hermione, seeing him take unnecessary risks, tried to intervene, but Ron refused to listen. Ignoring her warnings, he continued, trying to mimic what he had seen on the Quidditch pitch.
As he struggled to keep control, Hermione began to point out his mistakes, urging him to slow down. But Ron, embarrassed by both his mistakes and Draco's mocking smirk, found it harder to focus. His mind was a whirlwind of frustration and self-doubt.
In that moment, he lost control of the broom. It swerved wildly, and before he could regain his balance, it struck him in the face. He fell to the ground with a crash, the wind knocked out of him.
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