Roger ate with the same appetite he had shown at noon, and the entire kitchen greeted it as a personal triumph. Every house-elf seemed delighted to serve him, darting in and out with trays of roast meat, fruit, bread, and soup as if feeding him were the proudest duty Hogwarts had ever given them.
"Dot," Roger said after clearing another plate.
"Young Master Williams!" Dot sprang over at once, his carrot-shaped hat wobbling with every step. He looked up at Roger with shining eyes, eager enough to faint from happiness. "What are your orders?"
"Does Hogwarts have any secret passages?" Roger asked casually.
Dot froze. His huge eyes widened, and for a moment he looked as if Roger had asked him to burn down the castle. Then he grabbed a frying pan and began smacking himself over the head with it.
"Dot knows the answer but cannot say. Dot is a bad elf," he whimpered, hitting himself again and again. "Bad Dot. Very bad Dot."
"All right, I was only asking," Roger said quickly, reaching out to stop him. Unfortunately, Dot seemed unable to hear him at all and continued punishing himself with frightening dedication.
"Enough. Bring the food," Roger snapped, slamming one hand against the table.
Dot stopped immediately. The command cut through his panic, and he dropped the frying pan as though nothing had happened before rushing to serve Roger again.
"Prepare a dinner for Professor Snape and send it to him," Roger ordered. "If he asks why, tell him it's to offset the cost of the potions he owes me."
"Yes, Master Williams," Dot said at once.
Having work to do made him happy again. In less than a minute, he was busy packing food with all the solemn care of someone preparing offerings for a king.
After leaving the kitchen, Roger made his way to the eighth floor and eventually found the tapestry Snape had mentioned. It was nearly four metres wide, hanging in the centre of the wall, and it was impossible to mistake once he saw it.
The tapestry showed six trolls dressed in ballet costumes, standing in a clearing surrounded by fruit trees. Each of them held a club of varying size, and in the centre stood Barnabas the Barmy, a wizard foolishly attempting to teach those small-headed brutes how to dance.
It had not gone well for Barnabas. The trolls had clearly decided that ballet instruction was best answered with clubs, and Roger could not help feeling a little sorry for the man, especially since the poor fool had been beaten for centuries without relief.
"I need a room where I can brew potions," Roger murmured to himself. He walked back and forth along the corridor, repeating the thought with deliberate focus. "I need a room where I can brew potions."
On the third pass, a very smooth door appeared in the wall. Roger's eyes lit up, and he quickly pushed it open.
Behind the door was a spacious, bright room with a large workbench standing in the centre. Cauldrons, test tubes, scales, knives, ingredient jars, and other tools were neatly arranged across it, while the surrounding shelves held utensils and books related to Potions.
"How could anyone destroy such a wonderful place?" Roger sighed as he stepped inside the Room of Requirement.
He remembered that at some point in the future, this room would vanish into Fiendfyre. The thought made him feel strangely regretful, as if he were standing inside a treasure vault already marked for ruin.
[A separate space has been discovered. System access is available.]
[Connection initiated...]
[Warning. Warning. Blocked by an abnormal force. Insufficient energy. Insufficient energy.]
Roger froze. Something had gone wrong with the panel, and he had no memory of ever developing a function like that.
Had the System changed because of his transmigration? The sudden error messages made one thing clear at least: Hogwarts was protected by an extraordinary magical force, and even the System could not penetrate it.
In the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore paused in the middle of his knitting and frowned. He had sensed, very faintly but very clearly, that the Room of Requirement had been attacked.
The mysterious force vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. It left no damage behind, but the fact that it had touched one of Hogwarts' deepest secrets at all was enough to draw his attention.
Dumbledore opened the door and stared at the smooth stone wall beyond his office. He lifted his half-moon spectacles slightly, eyes thoughtful, and stood there in silence for a long moment.
At last, he shook his head. Whatever it was, the disturbance had faded, and the castle itself had not cried out in alarm.
Inside the Room of Requirement, Roger had already begun flipping through the notebook Professor Snape had given him. The pages covered everything from simple boil ointments and neutralising solutions to Felix Felicis, Veritaserum, and even the recipe for Polyjuice Potion.
"Choosing Slytherin really was the right decision," Roger said with satisfaction.
He copied the ingredients for the first potion into his own notebook. Then he paused, stared at the list, and frowned slightly.
"I'd rather not go to the Forbidden Forest to gather resources," he muttered.
The thought of Voldemort's ruined face drifting somewhere under that dark canopy was enough to settle the matter. Roger decided he would have Seller buy the ingredients for him instead.
"If you don't have the Saviour's luck, don't try to do the Saviour's job," Roger reminded himself. He was not going to risk his life over materials when money could solve the problem perfectly well.
He gathered his books and left the Room of Requirement. The moment he stepped into the corridor, he nearly bumped straight into Dumbledore.
"Oh. Good evening, Headmaster," Roger said, immediately arranging his expression into something polite and harmless.
"Roger, it has not been very long at all, and yet here we are again," Dumbledore said with a kind smile. His blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Discovering one of Hogwarts' secret rooms on your second day of school is quite impressive."
"Professor Snape told me about it," Roger said smoothly.
In his mind, Snape's expressionless face appeared at once. Since the information had indeed come from him, Roger felt no guilt whatsoever about placing the blame directly on his Head of House.
"Oh?" Dumbledore nodded, still smiling. "This place is rather difficult to find. I once took a wrong turn while looking for a bathroom and happened upon it by accident. Can you guess what was inside?"
"A toilet?" Roger asked with a laugh. "I was looking for a place to brew potions, and it gave me a workroom with a proper bench. If the Headmaster urgently needed the bathroom, surely it would provide a bathroom."
"Ha! Not quite," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "It was an entire room full of chamber pots."
Roger could not help laughing. His headmaster's hobbies were truly unusual, and somehow Dumbledore told the story as if finding a mountain of chamber pots had been one of life's finer surprises.
"Would you like to visit my office?" Dumbledore asked gently. "I have some rather excellent lemonade."
Roger's heart gave a sharp jump.
[1. You agree to Dumbledore's invitation and enter the Headmaster's office.]
[2. Dumbledore casually uses Legilimency on you and sees only a blank screen.]
[3. Dumbledore suspects you have mastered Occlumency and becomes highly cautious of you.]
[4. You are injured in a magical accident and are forced to take a year away from school for unknown reasons.]
[Simulation stopped.]
Roger refused at once. "It's already late. If I go back any later, Mr. Filch will catch me."
"Quite right. It is getting late," Dumbledore said, his gaze drifting to the pocket watch in Roger's hand. "Until next time, Roger."
"Good night, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Roger turned and left, keeping his pace steady until he disappeared around the corner. Behind him, Dumbledore remained in the corridor, quietly watching the place where the boy had vanished.
"Roger truly is extraordinary," Dumbledore murmured. "Especially given his unusual experiences."
For a child like that, simply living an ordinary life should already have been difficult. To be so outstanding on top of it was something else entirely, and Dumbledore could not help thinking of Neville, that forgetful boy with a burden of his own.
Still, was it truly necessary for Severus to expose Roger to the Room of Requirement so early? Dumbledore turned the thought over in his mind as he returned toward his office, faintly worried that Roger might be hiding something dangerous, such as an interest in Dark magic.
"We shall observe a little longer," he said softly.
After all, Roger could summon a Patronus. In theory, a wizard capable of producing such magic should not be evil, though theory and human nature were rarely perfect companions.
"Perhaps he is simply interested in power," Dumbledore murmured.
Outside the main building, Roger finally let out the breath he had been holding. A magical accident that forced him to leave school for a year? He did not believe for even a second that such an accident would be innocent, and the old man's harmless smile suddenly looked far more wicked in his memory.
Under the intense stares of Filch and Mrs Norris, Roger slipped back toward the Slytherin entrance at the very last moment. He stopped just long enough to turn with graceful politeness and wave.
"Good night, Mr. Filch. Good night, Mrs Norris."
"Hmph. You won't be so lucky next time," Filch growled.
He glared at Roger before stalking away with his cat to patrol the other corridors. He was certain the boy had been mocking him, because everyone knew Filch had to spend the night prowling the castle, catching students who dared sneak out after curfew.
And then there was that damned Peeves, causing trouble every single night. Filch turned back and stared at the entrance to the Slytherin passage, and Roger Williams's name was already carved firmly onto his blacklist.
.....
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