"Many people find me incomprehensible," Voldemort said, his voice carrying a hint of derision. "And that's understandable. With their short lifespans, it's difficult for them to see the world-shattering events ahead. So, they cling to the 'wisdom of future generations.'"
As they neared the library, the crowd grew thicker. Voldemort's eyes swept over the young wizards around them, a faint mockery in his gaze.
"But you're different, Roger," he continued, his tone playful. "You, too, are on the path to eternal life. You will live a long time. Your strength grows by leaps and bounds every day, but one day, you'll hit that barrier. Your magic will stagnate, and the rapid advancement of Muggle technology will only make it clearer. When that moment comes, you will understand my frustration."
Roger, however, found Voldemort's musings confusing. "Why bother with such things?"
Voldemort raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "If you can't beat them, join them."
Roger smiled slightly. "If, one day, Muggle technology truly surpasses magic, and my own abilities plateau, then I'd join them."
"If there's a shift, a long-lived wizard like myself can infiltrate the Muggle elite. After all, many powerful wizards have already mingled with the technological world." He paused, then added, "But…"
Roger cut him off before he could continue. "Don't cling to the notion that wizards are inherently superior. If Muggles really are that advanced, who's to say who's superior? And don't think you'd be ostracized just because you're a wizard. Haven't you wondered how Muggles awaken to become young wizards? If we could unlock that, and share it with the world, wouldn't that level the playing field?"
With a snap of his fingers, Roger dispelled the sound barrier and headed toward the library. Behind him, Voldemort stood still, mulling over his words.
"If you can't beat them, join them?" Voldemort murmured to himself.
The seed had been planted.
Roger had awakened something in Voldemort's mind. If wizards couldn't stand against Muggles, perhaps there was another way. What if he could rise to the top of the Muggle world instead, and in time, use that power to crush wizards? Could that be his path to ultimate domination?
Voldemort's thoughts churned as Roger moved ahead, unaware of the inner turmoil his words had sparked.
Inside the library, Roger wandered among the shelves, picking through books as thoughts swirled in his mind. Despite his disdain for many of Voldemort's methods, their conversation had struck a chord with him.
The issue of talent—something Voldemort had struggled with—would one day become Roger's own dilemma. The enhancements brought by his second brain had pushed his magical talents, but there was a limit. Even with his foresight, he couldn't escape the eventual reality that his magic, too, would one day plateau.
And beyond that, the question of the boundaries of wizard power loomed large. Body modification had shown potential, but would it really allow him to transcend? Wizards had always sought to evolve, to become more than mere mortals. Yet, even the most powerful magical creatures and bloodlines couldn't break through to true godhood.
The ancient theories about rituals, transformations, and external objects came rushing back to him. Were they really the key to unlocking true immortality, or were they just paths to slightly enhanced power?
A thought slowly began to form in his mind.
"The path of the predecessors might not be the right one for me," he mused silently. "When the issue of longevity is resolved... perhaps I should forge a path that's truly my own."
Later, as Roger strolled through the Hogwarts courtyard, a sudden chill touched the tip of his nose. Looking up, he noticed the snowflakes fluttering down, heavier than before, marking the arrival of winter.
The British winter was truly setting in, stretching from December to February.
"What's wrong? Standing there, lost in thought?" came a cheerful voice behind him.
Roger turned to see his classmates—Hermione, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Draco, among others—all standing together, having just finished class. They were headed across the courtyard to their next class.
Roger had stopped in the middle of the courtyard, and the others had paused as well, curious about why he, normally so focused, was now lost in thought.
"It's nothing," Roger waved it off. "I just suddenly realized Christmas is in less than twenty days."
"Christmas!" The eyes of many of the little wizards lit up at the mention of the holiday. Christmas meant gifts, and the thought of what to give—and perhaps receive—was already occupying their minds.
The other young wizards buzzed with excitement about Christmas, but Roger didn't share their enthusiasm. It wasn't that he disliked the holiday—far from it. But this year's Christmas felt different.
It was 1991.
As Christmas approached on December 25th, Roger couldn't help but wonder about the impact of the Red Giant's fall on the world. Would the magical world change, or would things unfold the same as they did in his previous life?
Of course, such thoughts were fleeting, quickly brushed aside. Regardless of the consequences, Roger had no power to influence them now. His focus remained on one thing: mastering magic.
So, the days passed in their usual rhythm—attending classes, studying in the library, working in the laboratory, and heading back to the dormitory just before curfew.
Just as Roger thought his day would end quietly, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Roger, someone's looking for you outside!" A voice called out from the Gryffindor common room.
Stepping out, Roger immediately spotted the large, familiar figure of Hagrid.
"What brings you here, Hagrid?" Roger asked, surprised. It wasn't typical for Hagrid to visit at this time of day.
Hagrid shuffled on his feet, scratching his head. "Well, I've got some results from my experiment. The miniaturization of magical creatures isn't quite there yet, but… I think this time, the results are a bit…" Hagrid trailed off, trying to find the right word.
"Strange?" Roger suggested, eyebrow raised.
Hagrid nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, that's the one. Strange."
After his last run-in with the Fear Demon, Hagrid had become a little jumpy, cautious about causing any trouble. Even though he didn't see anything obviously dangerous this time, he'd come to Roger for a second opinion, just to be safe.
Since Hagrid had come all this way, Roger couldn't exactly let him turn back empty-handed. So, he agreed to follow him to Hagrid's hut in the Forbidden Forest.
When Roger laid eyes on the creature Hagrid had been working with, he was instantly taken aback.
The green-skinned creature before him looked... peculiar, to say the least.
Roger stepped forward, poking the creature with his wand while glancing at Hagrid with suspicion. "Hagrid... have you ever played Warhammer 40K?"
Patreon Seasay