Alaya Magic

Anyone with a deep understanding of history knew that there were no coincidences in it.

Everything that appeared accidental had strands of cause and effect stretching beneath the surface; every sip and every peck had been predestined.

Before every "effect," there had to be a "cause."

Why had the combination of a Boggart and Pestering Mites given birth to a Fear Demon, rather than some other creature, such as an invisible Boggart?

Why had the combination of a magical creature and a magical mushroom produced not a fleshy mushroom, nor some special species like the cordyceps fungi that parasitized ants, but something so much like a Warhammer Ork? In an instant, suspicion stirred Roger's old memories.

The book Ritual Magic is More Than Just Blood Sacrifice mentioned that a wizard had verified through field research that the sun, moon, and stars possessed magical mystique because all living beings believed them to be special.

Magic intertwined with the thoughts of countless living beings. Built upon the sea of the subconscious, world-scale rituals endured through the ages, giving birth to many magical creatures.

Dragons possessed a degree of magical resistance because people believed they could resist magic.

Various Alchemical Holy Artifacts likewise possessed power far beyond ordinary alchemical items because of the beliefs of all living beings.

Around the year 1400, the global population had only been 400 million. By 1900, it was around 1.2 billion. Now, in 1991, it had exceeded 5 billion.

It was known that the prevailing thoughts of 400 million people had been enough to sustain the emergence of many magical phenomena.

What about after the population increased tenfold, twentyfold? Could it be...

Roger thought of a possibility.

He glanced at Hagrid. This three-and-a-half-meter-tall half-giant was clearly no expert in Ritual Magic theory.

Discussing this with Hagrid was not a good idea.

Eager for answers, Roger briefly explained to Hagrid that Warhammer 40,000 was a tabletop wargame developed in 1987 by the United Kingdom game company Games Workshop, then hurriedly took his leave.

By the time Roger left the vicinity of the Forbidden Forest and returned to Hogwarts Castle, it was nearly midnight. In theory, as a student, wandering around the school after curfew violated school rules.

But Roger had a handwritten letter from Dumbledore authorizing him to act as circumstances required. Even when the caretaker, Argus Filch, saw him, he did not dare interfere.

Of course, Roger would not use a minor authority as an excuse to recklessly break the rules. He had suffered enough chaos on the battlefield and had no desire to return to it.

Only in special circumstances, such as the Fear Demon incident and tonight, would Roger make use of the authority Dumbledore had lent him.

As the saying went, one could die in the evening after hearing the Way in the morning. Roger was not quite that extreme, but when inspiration struck and he could not find an answer, it truly was unbearable.

After returning to Hogwarts, Roger did not go back to the Gryffindor common room. Instead, he went directly to the Room of Requirement on the eighth floor.

It was one of the few places in Hogwarts that could support him in conducting all kinds of magical experiments.

Entering the Room of Requirement, Roger drew his wand and began a type of magical development he had never attempted before.

Roger's idea was simple.

Magic was the miracle of belief.

The "belief" of all living beings held power.

So, was it possible that once a certain concept was accepted by the masses, magic would receive special assistance when it exerted itself in that direction?

To put it more plainly:

After the Jedi lightsabers from Star Wars became something everyone knew about, would it become easier for wizards to develop spells related to plasma blades? Or after Hidetaka Miyazaki released his games, could wizards more easily than before develop magic that "only allows doors to be opened from one side"?

Because everyone had already subconsciously accepted that such things existed.

Warhammer had a considerable presence in the tabletop gaming world. Roger suspected that some unseen current of thought might have raised the relevant probability, subsequently affecting the final result of Hagrid's magical creature breeding.

And at this moment, Roger was testing that hypothesis.

He chose a particularly unusual current of thought. It was now December 1991, the final moments of the Cold War.

In recent years, the most widespread prevailing thought had naturally been humanity's fear of global nuclear war!

Hogwarts breakfasts were fairly good, and if someone truly could not get used to them, they could speak with the kitchen and have the flavors or dishes adjusted slightly.

But breakfast today was different from usual.

It was not because someone had received a "howler" from their parents.

It was because...

The young wizards from all four Houses eating in the Great Hall stared in shock as an enormous "metal coffin" floated in.

The "coffin" passed by the young wizards and headed straight for where the professors were eating.

"...Roger, what are you doing?" Professor McGonagall recognized the newcomer at once.

Among the students, only this troublesome Little Seer was likely capable of such an ingenious Levitation Charm.

"Uh, there was a small problem with a magical experiment, Professor McGonagall. Could I trouble you to contact someone outside the school? I want to buy something."

"What?"

"A Geiger counter." A muffled voice came from within the metal coffin made entirely of lead.

The direction Roger had chosen for his experiment last night had something to do with nuclear energy.

Fear of nuclear war was a massive prevailing thought at this time, and for developing spells related to nuclear warfare, the simpler paths were twofold. One was an explosion of tremendous power.

The other was the dreaded... Nuclear Radiation!

After all, Chernobyl had happened only five years ago, and everyone was terrified of the stuff.

Roger chose a radiation spell.

With his level of bodily modification, ordinary radiation could never kill him. Seal himself inside a lead coffin, and he could experiment however he liked.

Explosions were different. He was still on school grounds, after all—he had to consider everyone else's safety.

"You... never mind. You're a Seer. You don't need me to tell you what you can't do—you already know. But you'd better be careful." As a Half-blood Wizard who had lived in Muggle society for a long time, Professor McGonagall naturally knew that a Geiger counter was used to measure radiation.

"I understand." Roger replied while recalling what had happened the night before.

After a whole night of experiments, Roger had failed to create his spell.

He could only use magic to produce radiation; he could not control it.

But his tests had already yielded results.

Having conducted countless magical experiments every day, Roger knew perfectly well the rough extent of his talent for magical development.

He had clearly felt that developing radiation magic was indeed much easier.

The boost was not absurdly overwhelming, but it definitely existed.

With that in mind, Roger said, "Professor McGonagall, do you have time later? There are a few magical matters I'd like to ask your advice on."

What Roger wanted to discuss with Professor McGonagall was precisely his new discovery.

"Alaya Magic?" Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow as she looked over the manuscript before her.

"That's right."

"The collective consciousness of humanity is, in some theories, also called Alaya-vijnana. This is an idea for using the power of collective consciousness to develop magic," Roger explained.

"I know that under the International Statute of Secrecy, wizards cannot reveal ourselves to the world."

"But influencing collective consciousness does not require us to appear in person. We can support entertainment industries such as games, films, and animation to exert influence."

"If used well, while it cannot create something completely unreasonable out of nothing, a bit of guided thought could still greatly reduce the time wizards need to develop all kinds of magic. The benefits would be considerable."

It was more or less equivalent to accelerating the overall development of wizarding civilization.

And the risks were not particularly high.

"What do you think, Professor McGonagall? Do you think this approach is feasible?"