Unbreakable Vow

Roger's path in magic had, strictly speaking, only just begun.

Although he had learned about many things through Professor McGonagall's books, it was like how an ordinary person might understand the general concept of advanced mathematics without actually knowing it. They still had to start with 1+1=2 and 2x2=4.

Roger's sense of impending danger allowed him, after fully mastering a certain "algorithm," to swiftly convert the knowledge he possessed into various techniques that could be used in practice.

But it could not speed up the learning process itself.

He learned many spells quickly purely because his natural talent was high, not because of the prophetic ability.

What the prophetic ability gave Roger was an accelerated capacity for invention and development in fields related to the human body and the self. It was not an ability to accelerate foundational learning, much less create some fanciful technique out of nothing.

Even when looking up at the stars, one still had to keep one's feet on the ground.

Just like with his own magical research, after deciding not to let Harry interfere and to deal with the Philosopher's Stone himself, Roger intended to proceed step by step.

If they could talk, then they would talk properly. If they could not talk properly, then they would talk with blades and wands. If even blades and wands could not settle it, then he would use the final option.

...Although Voldemort was now only a fragment of a soul and was not particularly strong in terms of power, even a rotten ship still had a few nails left in it. It would be bad if he had some trump card that injured a professor or student.

The troll incident was quickly brought to a close.

As long as they confirmed where a low-intelligence Magical Creature was, the professors could swiftly deal with it.

And Professor Quirrell, who had been stunned by Roger's words and had confirmed that the Philosopher's Stone was on Roger, did not cause any trouble as he had in the original fate.

Instead, in the middle of the night, when everything seemed to have settled down, he came to the eighth floor of Hogwarts Castle, beside a tapestry embroidered with a painting.

"Professor, you're not going to report me for breaking school rules by wandering around at night, are you?" Roger, who had long been waiting there, said jokingly as he looked at the finally arrived Professor Quirrell.

At that moment, Professor Quirrell was completely unlike his usual timid self in class, where he would not even dare make eye contact with students.

His face was clouded, and his gaze was cold.

"You did not ask me here to say such boring things, did you?" Quirrell's mouth did not move at all, yet another deep voice came from the back of his head.

Back in the Great Hall, after Roger had quietly exposed his identity, the two had agreed to meet here tonight. That was why he had appeared.

Voldemort was in a very bad mood now.

He had thought that this seer either could not foresee him or did not intend to meddle in his business, and that they would keep out of each other's way.

But unexpectedly, Roger had cut him off at the root and was waiting for him here! "Fine, it seems you have no interest in small talk, so let's get straight to the point. Can you do me the favor of continuing our previous discussion?" Roger said with a smile.

"Why should I?" Voldemort was succinct.

Voldemort had not been powerful from the very beginning. On his path to growth, it was not as if he had never had to play along with others.

But why should I yield now? A little eleven-year-old seer who barely knew any magic wanted Lord Voldemort to back off with a single sentence? What a joke!

Roger did not answer directly. Instead, he said, "I'm actually doing this for your own good."

"You were never going to obtain this Philosopher's Stone anyway, so why waste your effort?"

"...A prophecy?" Voldemort caught the implication behind Roger's words.

Then he gave a disdainful chuckle. "I am one who commands fate. Do not try to deceive me with your cryptic little tricks."

Voldemort was someone who believed in the existence of fate. This was evident enough from the number of his Horcruxes and from what happened with Harry.

But Voldemort had never been someone who obeyed fate! He studied Arithmancy because he wanted to command fate, to use its power to achieve greater accomplishments.

It was not that the Boy Who Lived had to be Harry Potter. It was because Voldemort chose Harry Potter that he became the Boy Who Lived!

...It was rather amusing. The more clearly someone could see fate, the more they wanted to prove that man could triumph over heaven, even if they usually profited by wielding fate's power.

A seer said he could not obtain the Philosopher's Stone? Voldemort refused to believe it.

"Command fate?" Remembering how, in Voldemort's original fate, he had brought about his own destruction like some figure from Greek mythology, Roger shook his head helplessly.

"It seems I can't convince you with words alone."

"How about this? Let's play a little game." As he spoke, Roger took the final step he had long hesitated to take and pushed open the door that had appeared on the wall at some point.

The Room of Requirement would appear after walking past this stretch of wall three times.

Fortunately, Roger had long anticipated that things might not go so smoothly, so he had made other preparations as well.

"I heard that Mr. Voldemort enjoys studying fate, but it seems that throughout your life, you have never truly been enemies with a real seer, have you?"

By the time Voldemort rose to prominence, Grindelwald had already been imprisoned by Dumbledore.

And aside from Grindelwald, the people in today's wizarding world could at most be said to possess some degree of prophetic ability. Calling them seers, let alone powerful seers, would be a vast exaggeration.

"Don't you find that a little regrettable?"

After the door opened, the Room of Requirement contained a vast, empty space, resembling the site of a Hogwarts Quidditch match.

Sensing the scene beyond the door, Voldemort roughly guessed what Roger intended to do. The corners of his mouth beneath the turban curved with interest. "What game do you want to play?"

"How large do you think the gap in strength is between Professor Quirrell and me?"

Voldemort considered it. "Your potential is high, but it has yet to be realized. From my usual observations of you, you know no more than thirty spells, and the vast majority of them are not particularly proficient. You should only be truly skilled in Transfiguration, the Levitation Charm, and those self-developed spells of yours."

"Your Transfiguration should have reached a level where it can be used directly in combat. That is quite rare. Your Mental Power is also decent, but... you likely have no experience fighting wizards."

"And Quirrell, though he is useless, barely meets the standard of an ordinary Hogwarts teaching wizard. If the two of you fought head-on, I would say it would be roughly seven to three. Quirrell seven, you three," Voldemort said truthfully.

Hearing Voldemort say that, Roger did not argue. He simply nodded. "All right, then I'll announce the rules of the game."

"The rules are very simple. They can be explained in just a few sentences."

"If Professor Quirrell defeats me in a direct magical duel, the Philosopher's Stone will be yours. I can even stake one of my arms. The outcome will not be decided in a single match, nor in a best-of-three. Rather, from this moment until the end of the school year, Professor Quirrell will have one chance each week to challenge me."

"As long as he wins any one match, you win."

"The restrictions are these: you may guide him verbally or help him improve through magical knowledge, but you may not directly intervene in the battle. And before your game with me ends, you may not use any other means to try to obtain the Philosopher's Stone."

"Of course, neither will I use any power beyond my own to affect the battle—for example, by having other professors step in."

"What do you think?" Roger looked entirely at ease.

Voldemort made a rough calculation. From now until the school year ended in June, with one chance per week, that came to around thirty-four challenges. And he would be able to provide guidance from outside the matches.

Thirty-four battles. As long as he claimed one victory, he won.

"Hehehe, interesting. I accept." Voldemort did not believe his judgment could be wrong. Even if Roger's strength differed from his estimate, it could not be by much.

Thus, Voldemort understood the true "answer" to Roger's game.

This little Seer wanted him to witness how a Seer toyed with fate!

He wanted Voldemort to understand that obtaining the Philosopher's Stone from him was impossible.

Fine. Since he wanted to play, Voldemort naturally would not shrink from the challenge!

As it happened, Voldemort was also curious about what form the power of fate would take in a Seer's hands.

Flip the table and seize it by force now? Voldemort did not believe that a Seer who dared come here would not have prepared contingencies.

"Then it's a deal." Roger extended his right hand in an offer to shake hands.

The seemingly friendly gesture made Professor Quirrell's pupils contract.

The spell—Unbreakable Vow!

Once an agreement was made, failing to fulfill it as required would result in death from the spell's backlash!

Quirrell carefully reviewed those "conditions" from earlier. Only after confirming there were no traps did he take Roger's hand, his arm trembling slightly.

"You two?" Roger asked, a faint note of confusion in his voice.

After several seconds of silence, Voldemort controlled Quirrell's other hand and placed it atop theirs as well.

The three parties confirmed the contents of the vow.

The spell was sealed!

Only then did Roger reveal a satisfied smile.

Now he no longer had to worry about unforeseen changes causing other students and professors to be injured.

Roger had abandoned the original path of fate because he did not want Harry to suffer emotional trauma.

But neither did he want his choice to result in harm coming to other innocent people.

So—

It was enough for him to bear everything alone!