Magical Pet X Wand X Spellbooks

In Roger's faintly yellowed memories, blurred by the passage of time, Harry Potter—the "The Boy Who Lived" of the British wizarding world, who had "defeated" Voldemort—had received this same treatment when he entered The Leaky Cauldron.

Still, there was quite a difference between himself and Harry Potter.

After a brief silence, Harry Potter had instantly caused the place to erupt. People crowded around to catch a glimpse of The Boy Who Lived, desperate to shake his hand and take a photo with him as a keepsake.

For a time, they welcomed him with utmost sincerity. That flourishing vitality, that sense of all things striving and bursting forth, still lingered vividly in memory.

On his side, however, the brief silence became utter dead silence.

The poorly informed wizards who saw Professor McGonagall, Gryffindor's Head of House, reacted like mice spotting a cat.

The British wizarding world was too small. Nearly every wizard had graduated from Hogwarts. Faced with Professor McGonagall, those troublemakers who had neglected their studies in school and spent their weekday afternoons drinking in pubs after graduation instinctively lowered their heads.

Those who were well-informed and had many connections among the upper ranks of wizarding society, meanwhile, looked at Roger as though they had seen another Voldemort.

Their bodies went rigid.

They froze completely, subconsciously afraid to move.

As the trial concluded, more of Roger's records were no longer kept secret and became known to more people.

Roger had personally killed more than ninety people, while the number who had died indirectly because of him exceeded that figure by more than an order of magnitude.

If an outsider familiar with this part of history had observed Roger's actions, they would have found that the overall course of the war had shifted considerably from the Gulf War of another world because of Roger's presence.

The battlefield footage that had been released left many young wizards, who had lived their entire lives within wizarding circles and had never seen how terrifying modern Muggle warfare could be, unable to stomach meat for quite some time.

Neither Professor McGonagall nor Roger paid any attention to the awkward silence.

The two of them walked straight through the deathly quiet crowd toward the back of The Leaky Cauldron.

A wand lightly tapped the bricks of the alley wall.

The door to the magical world opened itself to Roger.

Noise, bustle, people in every sort of strange attire weaving through the streets, haggling arguments, and flashes of brilliant magic appeared before Roger from time to time.

This was the commercial center of the British wizarding world, but compared to those polished, upscale business districts, it felt more like a sprawling market.

Yet Roger's first impression of the place was...

"Cognitive distortion. What terrifying magic."

Diagon Alley lay in London, the capital of the United Kingdom. With so many residents in London, not one of them noticed that a huge section was "missing" from the city map.

The more one thought about it, the more terrifying it became.

If he had known this spell during the war, he would not have needed to lead his team around in guerrilla warfare at all. He could have simply hidden somewhere.

The difficulty of survival would have instantly changed from nightmare mode to easy mode.

Roger was gradually beginning to understand why the wizards in his memories from his previous life had looked down on Muggles so much.

Anyone would lose their sense of awe toward a group whose minds they could manipulate at will.

Even if that group possessed the power to hurt them, or even kill them.

Of course, Roger would not think that way. Having truly experienced the horrors of death and war, he would never underestimate any existence.

After entering Diagon Alley, the two continued onward.

Their first stop was Gringotts, the wizarding world's bank.

Hogwarts was a seven-year boarding school, and a magical school at that.

Whether it was tuition, the various books and tools needed for classes, or even school uniforms, all of them were magical items.

They had to be purchased with Wizarding currency. Dollars, euros, and Pound Sterling were not accepted here—only wizarding Galleons and Knuts.

However, there truly were young wizards like Roger, born into Muggle families with no connection whatsoever to wizards, who had no money at all.

So Hogwarts provided some assistance. With proof of admission, they could exchange a limited amount of Muggle currency for Wizarding currency at Gringotts.

For young wizards who were so poor that they did not even have Muggle money and had special circumstances, there were also special interest-free student loans.

...That money came from the Ministry of Magic's education budget.

Roger did not have much money, but he was not poor enough to need a student loan.

At Gringotts, guided by a short goblin, Roger exchanged some pounds for Galleons.

It was just enough for a student to buy everything they needed and still have enough left for living expenses.

"What are you looking for?" At Flourish and Blotts, Professor McGonagall watched Roger continue wandering around the shop after buying his first-year textbooks and asked in some confusion.

Their shopping trip had gone smoothly. The cauldron, school uniform, flying broom, magical pet, and wand had all been bought. This was now their final stop.

For his magical pet, Roger had not chosen a cat, dog, toad, raven, or anything similar. He had chosen the more common owl.

First, an owl could help Roger stay in touch with the outside world while at Hogwarts, where communication was not especially convenient.

Second, other pets needed him to take care of their food, drink, and waste himself, whereas Roger could have an owl live in the Owlery in Hogwarts' West Tower and entrust its care to the school.

Over time, that would save him quite a lot of effort.

As for his wand, like Harry Potter, Roger had gone to Ollivanders, a wand shop that had been making wands since 382 BC, around the time of China's Zhou dynasty, and remained one of Europe's three great wandmakers.

The wandmaster Ollivander had Roger try wand after wand.

Apple wood for kind idealists and the long-lived; poplar, often used by wizards skilled in combat; maple for adventurers; ebony for honest people with keen intuition; hazel for those skilled at controlling their emotions; and elder wands, symbols of extraordinary power that carried a reputation for misfortune and had not sold a single one in years.

Roger had good compatibility with all six of those wands and could use every one of them, but Ollivander still felt that none was quite the right fit.

The compatibility between a wand and its user could have an enormous impact on spellcasting. A wand was not something one could simply pick up and use.

Not until he brought out the seventh wand did Roger, upon grasping it, suddenly feel an entirely different sensation of supreme comfort throughout his body.

Ten inches, fir wood, with a unicorn tail hair core for stable spellcasting.

Fir was not particularly rare, and there were still some people who possessed such wands. However, most of them were highly esteemed masters in their respective fields.

It was better suited to wizards who were fortunate enough, exceptionally patient, strong-willed, and who, after attaining enlightenment, possessed incomparably clear thoughts and goals.

Ollivander rarely saw a young wizard who had not even started school yet display compatibility with fir, much less such a perfect match.

However, Ollivander did not dwell on it too much. As one of Europe's three great wandmakers, with a family that had made wands since ancient Greece more than two thousand years ago, he knew of—and had even personally witnessed—too many strange and extraordinary things.

He had long since ceased to be surprised by them.

After obtaining his wand, Roger came to Flourish and Blotts, which sold magical books. But after casually flipping through the textbooks he had bought, he could not help but frown slightly.

Then his gaze settled on the rows upon rows of bookshelves.

"I want to buy some other magic books," Roger answered Professor McGonagall's question, his eyes full of thirst for knowledge.

Upon hearing that, Professor McGonagall stopped him. "Roger, I know you like magic very much, but rashly dabbling in magic beyond your ability to control is a very dangerous thing."

"As first-year textbooks, books like The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 and A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration are what we consider most suitable. They are easy to learn, and even failed spells will not cause serious consequences. They are well suited to you. You need not look for anything else."

Looking back at the stern Professor McGonagall, Roger knew that she had misunderstood him again.

It was not strange. As a Hogwarts professor, she was always dealing with all kinds of destructive little troublemakers, so her thoughts naturally went in that direction.

"No, I'm not looking for more powerful magic."

"What I'm looking for is something more fundamental."

Roger spoke with a serious expression. "For example, books that comprehensively and thoroughly explain what magic actually is, and how it developed from ancient spells into the modern system of magic we have today."