Roger's path in magic was, strictly speaking, only just beginning.
Although he had learned a great deal from Professor McGonagall's books, it was like an ordinary person understanding advanced mathematics—knowing the concepts didn't mean he could immediately apply them. He still had to start from the basics: 1+1=2, 2x2=4.
Roger's predictive ability allowed him to quickly turn knowledge into practical techniques once he had fully grasped an "algorithm," but it couldn't accelerate his learning process. His talent, rather than his predictive skills, was what allowed him to learn spells more swiftly. What his prediction ability truly enhanced was his capacity for invention and research, especially in the fields relating to the human body and self—allowing him to make faster strides in areas that were more personal and intuitive.
However, it couldn't speed up his grasp of the basics, nor could it conjure up technology out of thin air. As with the stars above, it was essential to remain grounded.
Roger's approach to his magical research was much like his approach to the Philosopher's Stone: one step at a time. He decided early on not to let Harry interfere, and he would handle things himself. If dialogue was possible, he would choose it; if not, he'd resolve it with force. If that didn't work, then he'd fall back on more drastic measures.
Voldemort, even in his weakened state, was still dangerous. While a mere shadow of his former self, he was unpredictable and capable of harm if left unchecked. Roger couldn't afford to take chances, especially with students or professors potentially getting hurt.
The troll incident was quickly dealt with. A low-intelligence magical creature was no match for Hogwarts' professors once its location was confirmed. Professor Quirrell, however, had been stunned by Roger's mention of the Philosopher's Stone and didn't cause trouble like he had in the original timeline. Instead, he found himself in a different part of the castle, at midnight, near a tapestry that hid a secret entrance.
Roger had been waiting for him. Smiling as he saw Quirrell's arrival, he quipped, "Professor, you're not going to report me for breaking curfew, are you?"
Quirrell, however, was no longer the timid figure he appeared to be in class. His usual nervous demeanor was gone, replaced by an air of cold menace. He didn't speak directly, but a voice from behind his head—Voldemort's voice—responded, "You didn't ask me to come here for idle chit-chat."
Roger's expectations had been met. Voldemort was not in the mood for small talk. His response was curt, his displeasure palpable. He'd thought Roger would remain uninvolved, avoiding conflict. But now, with the Philosopher's Stone in plain sight, he was forced to confront the situation head-on.
Roger didn't respond directly to Voldemort's retort. Instead, he smiled again and said, "Actually, I'm doing this for your own good. You weren't going to get the Philosopher's Stone anyway, so why waste your energy?"
Voldemort's suspicion was piqued. "Prediction?" he asked, his tone laced with doubt. He had always believed that he controlled fate. "Stop trying to fool me with riddles."
Voldemort studied arithmancy and divination to control fate, not to submit to it. He had chosen Harry Potter as his adversary, which is why he had become the savior. The idea that fate could be manipulated, and that Roger—an 11-year-old Seer—could stand in his way, was ludicrous.
Roger shook his head, thinking about Voldemort's inevitable downfall, which was already set into motion by his own choices. "It seems I can't convince you with words alone," he said, smiling.
As he spoke, he took a step back, opening a door that appeared in the wall as if by magic. The Room of Requirement was just as he'd expected—a vast, empty space, much like the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.
"Let's play a little game," Roger said, walking into the room. "I've heard that Voldemort is someone who likes to study fate, but have you ever encountered a true Seer?" His voice carried a hint of amusement.
The wizarding world had no true Seers apart from a select few, and none of them were powerful enough to predict Voldemort's every move. If Voldemort had any regrets, Roger wanted him to confront them now.
The Room of Requirement had already been prepared. Roger had anticipated this meeting and set everything in motion.
"Don't you feel a little regret?" Roger's voice echoed as the door slammed shut behind him, and Voldemort's eyes flickered in response.
Sensing the energy within the room, Voldemort quickly guessed what Roger had in mind. A faint, intrigued smile appeared beneath his turban as he spoke, his voice cold but with a hint of curiosity: "What game do you wish to play?"
Roger's gaze remained steady as he asked, "Compared to Professor Quirrell, how much of a difference in strength do you think there is between us?"
Voldemort paused, calculating his response. "Your potential is high, but it hasn't fully manifested yet. Based on my observations, you likely know no more than 30 spells, most of which you don't wield with great proficiency. Transfiguration, Levitation Charms, and some self-developed magic are where you excel, but only in specific areas. Your Transfiguration is particularly impressive—it's at a level that could make you dangerous in direct combat."
He continued, his voice colder now, "Your mental strength is noteworthy, but you lack actual combat experience. As for Quirrell, despite his weaknesses, he's still on the level of a basic Hogwarts teacher. If the two of you fought head-on, I would estimate the odds at 70-30, in Quirrell's favor."
Roger nodded, neither surprised nor refuting Voldemort's assessment. "Alright then. Let me explain the rules of the game."
He spoke calmly, every word deliberate. "The rules are simple and can be summed up quickly. If Professor Quirrell defeats me in a head-on magical duel, the Philosopher's Stone is yours. I'll even wager my arm on it. But this isn't a one-off duel, and it's not a best-of-three. From now until the end of the school year, Quirrell will have one chance to challenge me every week."
Roger's eyes met Voldemort's as he continued, "If Quirrell wins any one of those 34 challenges, the Philosopher's Stone is yours. However, there are a few conditions: you can guide him, provide him with magical knowledge, or help him improve his strength in any way you like, but you cannot directly intervene in the battle. And, of course, you cannot attempt to take the Philosopher's Stone by any other means before my final duel with you."
Roger paused for effect. "As for me, I won't use any outside influence, such as asking professors to intervene. This will be a fair game, entirely between Quirrell and me."
Voldemort calculated quickly, taking into account the 34 opportunities Roger had mentioned. One win out of 34? It seemed an easy enough bet for someone like him. Still, Voldemort could feel the weight of Roger's words—this was more than just a wager on strength. It was a challenge of fate itself.
He smirked, intrigued. "Heh, interesting. I agree." Voldemort didn't believe Roger's abilities could deviate much from his predictions. But he was curious—curious about how a Seer might bend fate to their will, and about the true nature of Roger's game.
Roger smiled, unfazed by the gravity of the situation. "Then it's a deal," he said, extending his right hand for a handshake.
Quirrell, standing nearby, couldn't help but flinch at the gesture. His mind raced—What is this? He'd heard of the Unbreakable Vow, but he had never imagined it would come to this. The agreement was more than just words—it was binding, fatal even.
Roger's eyes flickered with a subtle understanding as Quirrell hesitated. After a brief moment of silence, Voldemort—controlling Quirrell—manipulated the other hand to meet Roger's. The deal was sealed, and the Unbreakable Vow was cast.
Roger's smile grew slightly as he sensed the spell's power settle into place. No turning back now.
With the Vow in place, Roger could rest assured. This would prevent any unexpected interference from Voldemort or his followers, and more importantly, it protected the students and professors who might otherwise be caught in the crossfire. Roger had made his decision: he would take on the burden alone.
He had chosen not to follow the original path of fate because he didn't want Harry to suffer any further trauma. But he also couldn't allow his actions to endanger the innocent.
"I'll bear the consequences alone," Roger thought, as the room fell into a heavy silence, filled only with the weight of the agreement now binding them all.
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