As expected, today's Quidditch match unfolded exactly as Roger had predicted.
It didn't take long for Harry to catch the Golden Snitch and end the game. The audience had barely settled into their seats before it was all over. Compared to the usual matches that could stretch on for hours, this was practically absurd.
Watching Harry, surrounded by his jubilant Gryffindor teammates, the bewildered Slytherins, and a sea of Gryffindor students who took nearly ten seconds to register the need to celebrate, Roger knew he'd made the right choice in attending.
Roger hadn't come because he was worried about disappointing Harry. He wasn't that sentimental. Rather, he had suddenly recalled that he still needed to complete the 'after-sales service' regarding the nervous system modification he had done for Harry.
As the saying goes, "Teaching through experience leaves a lasting impression." A little over a month ago, the timing hadn't been right to discuss this, but now... perhaps the time had come.
The match had ended a while ago, and the enthusiastic crowd around 'hero' Harry had begun to thin out. This match was significant for Gryffindor—not only had they won, but they'd also set the record for the fastest Quidditch match in Hogwarts history. Naturally, such a milestone was worth celebrating.
Once the excitement had waned and the crowd dispersed, Roger made his way toward Harry. But as he approached, he noticed something unusual. Harry, despite being the center of attention just moments ago, didn't wear the expression of a triumphant young man. Instead, there was a sense of loneliness in his eyes.
"...Roger, what brings you here?" Harry asked, rubbing his face as he tried to regain composure, offering a smile.
Having been classmates for a couple of months, Harry didn't claim to know Roger well, but he had a general sense of his personality. Roger wasn't the type to waste time with small talk. If you asked for help, he would give it. If you asked questions, he'd answer. If something bothered him, he'd intervene. But he wouldn't go out of his way to chat or hang out.
If Roger approached you, it meant he needed something. And it was probably not something trivial.
"It's nothing," Roger replied, his gaze sharp as he noted Harry's odd behavior. "I originally planned to offer you some advice, but..."
"What kind of advice?" Harry asked quickly, as if trying to divert attention from something he didn't want to discuss.
Seeing Harry's eagerness to address this first, Roger didn't push back. Instead, he bent down, flicking his finger to pull a small stone from the ground.
"Harry," Roger began, "You know I can perform wandless and silent Levitation Charms, right?"
Harry nodded, a little surprised but not unfamiliar with Roger's skills. Roger was well-known for his proficiency in Levitation and Transfiguration.
"Then," Roger continued, "Would you be interested in competing with me to see who can perform the more refined Levitation Charm?"
Harry immediately waved his hand in protest. "Wouldn't I just lose in such a competition?"
Roger raised an eyebrow. "So, do you think anyone would be interested in watching us compete if we actually went through with it?"
Harry hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Maybe. People might want to see something new, given your reputation as a Seer and, well... me being the Boy Who Lived."
"What if we did this every day? After a few months, how many people would still be interested?" Roger's voice grew serious. "Wouldn't you feel like each of those predictable competitions was a kind of torment?"
Harry was silent. He was quick-witted, and Roger's words hit home.
"Harry," Roger said, bluntly, "Your skill is far beyond that of other players. Quidditch is a sport where the Seeker can end the game in a heartbeat. If you keep playing like today..."
He didn't need to finish. Harry understood.
"But," Roger added casually, "Your life is yours to shape. I'm just here to offer you a perspective in case you haven't realized this yet. If you want to keep going down this path, that's entirely your choice."
Roger wasn't concerned with Quidditch as a sport, nor whether Harry's dominance would eventually make the game boring for others at Hogwarts. What mattered to Roger was whether the pressure of public expectation would harm Harry, especially after he had altered Harry's nervous system. He didn't want his modifications to inadvertently cause Harry lasting trauma.
That was why he had come: to provide this 'after-sales service.' If Harry chose to continue as he was, then whatever happened next—good or bad—would be Harry's responsibility. Roger would step back.
"Alright, now that I've given my advice," Roger said, shifting the conversation, "Let's talk about something else."
He didn't ask any questions, but simply fixed Harry with a steady gaze.
Roger was simply curious about where fate had taken an unexpected turn.
If Harry had clearly refused, Roger would not have pushed further into someone else's personal matters.
But when Roger's gaze met Harry's, he saw Harry hesitate, lips pressed together in thought for a few seconds. Finally, Harry spoke, his voice soft: "I miss my family a little."
The family Harry referred to was not the Dursleys, but his parents. Though Dumbledore had removed the Mirror of Erised, and Harry had resolved to let go of the illusion it presented, the longing for his parents still lingered. The mirror's image of being loved had stirred those feelings deep within him. Whenever his friends left, and the silence of solitude crept in, that yearning would return, leaving him with a quiet sadness.
"I see," Roger said, not entirely surprised. He had expected something like this, though he had wondered if another change in fate had occurred.
Seeing Harry's lonely expression, Roger paused, contemplating his words. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice steady. "Harry..."
"Death is not the end of everything."
Harry blinked, staring at Roger, confused. "What do you mean?"
Roger's mind briefly flickered to the time when Harry and his friends had "tricked time" to save Buckbeak in Prisoner of Azkaban. The memory of that event felt like a distant echo.
"The power of magic," Roger continued, "is so immense that it can even manipulate time and space. Those who have died may not truly be gone. If you become powerful enough, you could have the ability to change everything."
Harry's brow furrowed, trying to grasp what Roger was implying.
"Of course," Roger added, "This is an extremely dangerous and forbidden path. If you choose to pursue it, you must be willing to risk everything. Not only your life, but the very traces of your existence could be wiped away."
He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle. "If you're determined, I can briefly explain the mysteries of this path to you."
Harry didn't immediately respond. Roger could see the struggle behind Harry's eyes.
"If you're not ready," Roger said, his tone softening slightly, "Then just forget I mentioned it."
Under Roger's steady gaze, Harry's eyes widened in realization. "I..."
His childhood had been defined by a lack of love and the constant presence of his aunt and uncle's disdain. The greatest desire he'd ever seen in the Mirror of Erised was simply to be with his family.
It was clear now. Harry's answer could only be one.
... patreon Seasay