Roger Virgil was once a figure at the center of one of the most high-profile cases to reach the Wizengamot's highest court—a case complicated not just by the charges he faced, but by its potential to stir international tensions.
And yet, Dumbledore had chosen to help him.
His silence at the trial, interpreted by many as a declaration of support, had been a bold, risky move. It wasn't just about principle—it was about betting on a young man whose future could tilt toward brilliance or disaster. But Dumbledore wasn't a reckless idealist. He never acted on sentiment alone, nor did he believe others should bear the cost of his choices.
After Roger was cleared, Dumbledore didn't simply step back. He watched.
Roger's actions were monitored—not as punishment, but as precaution. The events in the Middle East had made one thing clear: Roger was ambitious. Daring. The kind of person who could shake the world, for better or worse. If he ever strayed from the right path, the fallout would be unimaginable.
But Roger hadn't let him down.
Professor McGonagall's reports spoke of a student with vision, drive, and—more importantly—a conscience. A future pillar of the magical world. And from what Dumbledore saw after Roger arrived at Hogwarts, her praise was justified.
Well… mostly. The scene of Slytherin and Gryffindor students brawling, only to be pacified by Roger's swift iron-fisted intervention, had been… unconventional.
Still, time and again, Roger proved he would step forward when others needed him. The incident with Hermione and Ron was just one of many. It wasn't about grandstanding. It was about making things right.
And that's why, with trust steadily growing, Dumbledore had made a decision: it was time to give Roger more responsibility.
Of course, he wouldn't force it. Roger wasn't like Harry Potter. He didn't carry a prophecy or a destined nemesis. If Roger refused, Dumbledore would make other arrangements.
But Roger, ever straightforward, didn't dodge the matter. He looked Dumbledore in the eye and asked directly:
"Why me? Why entrust the Philosopher's Stone to me?"
Dumbledore smiled kindly, as if he had expected the question. "Because I'm about to leave for a while. There are matters abroad that require my personal attention. It's not suitable—or safe—for me to carry the Stone during this journey. When I thought of who I could trust… I thought of you."
Dumbledore didn't find it odd that Roger didn't ask what the Philosopher's Stone was, or why Dumbledore had it. Roger was a Seer. Knowing things he shouldn't was part of who he was. Having been friends with Grindelwald, Dumbledore knew all too well the strange clarity that came with true foresight.
"Where are you going?" Roger asked, his brow furrowed.
"The Middle East."
The answer clicked into place.
Roger's mind flashed back to the timeline he knew. In that version of events, Dumbledore also left Hogwarts—but only after Professor Quirrell, possessed by Voldemort, tricked him near the semester's end. This was happening too early.
Something was off.
"Is it what I think it is?" Roger asked quietly.
"Yes," Dumbledore replied, his expression turning solemn.
He understood Roger's sharp gaze. Dumbledore didn't believe in evading questions with half-truths, especially not from a Seer. More importantly, he didn't believe in leaving unfinished business for others to clean up. This trip was a consequence of his own actions. Saving Roger had sent ripples through the Middle East's political waters, and he wasn't about to let the British wizarding world take the blow for it.
He would face them himself—and explain.
"I assume I need to watch Quirrell while you're gone?" Roger asked.
Dumbledore's expression softened with a touch of admiration. "Yes."
He didn't need to say more. Roger already understood the stakes.
Entrusting the Stone to anyone else would always carry risk. But Roger—Roger could see what others couldn't. He was the safest bet, not because of strength, but because nothing would catch him unprepared.
"Should anything happen, feel free to seek assistance from the professors you trust," Dumbledore added. "I'll leave you this—my letter of authority."
He handed Roger a sealed letter and a glowing red crystal—the Philosopher's Stone.
Roger took them silently, the weight of trust settling into his palms.
After a moment, he spoke.
"…You know Quirrell is carrying part of Voldemort's soul, right?"
Dumbledore paused.
"…Ah?"
There was no panic, only a flicker of surprise—quickly masked by a thoughtful silence.
Roger understood immediately: Dumbledore hadn't known. Not entirely. He may have suspected Quirrell of something, perhaps even guessed that he'd broken into Gringotts. But he hadn't known the full truth.
Not until now.
And Roger realized something else, too.
Dumbledore wasn't omniscient.
Even the greatest wizard of the age couldn't see everything.
But perhaps, with Roger at his side, he didn't have to.
Based on the original trajectory of fate, it was only after Voldemort drank unicorn blood to extend his life that Dumbledore fully confirmed Quirrell was being controlled by Voldemort.
After all, there were very few dark wizards with that level of power who were also desperate enough to cling to life by such twisted means—yet unable to seek help through legal channels.
Roger recalled how, in the original timeline, Dumbledore had told Harry—while he lay recovering in the hospital wing—"Everything was within my plan." At the time, it had sounded reassuring. But now, Roger understood the truth behind those words.
So you're someone who always moves with multiple plans in motion, adjusting them moment by moment as the future shifts.
When Roger mentioned Voldemort's presence inside Quirrell, he saw Dumbledore freeze. For a brief moment, the old wizard hesitated, beginning to withdraw the Philosopher's Stone and the letter in his hand.
Roger could guess what was going through his mind.
Dumbledore had just realized he didn't have the full picture—and as someone who always acted based on careful foresight, that uncertainty made him pause.
Roger calmly reached out and took the Stone and letter anyway.
"Give it to me," he said. "I'm only telling you this to prevent you from making a wrong decision because you didn't have all the facts."
Dumbledore looked at him with clear concern in his eyes.
"You…" he started, still hesitant. After all, this wasn't a minor errand. It was Voldemort they were talking about.
"Nothing will happen," Roger replied simply, tapping a finger near his temple—then pointing to his eyes.
The message was clear: A Seer always sees what's coming.
His visions might not be as precise as Grindelwald's, but Roger could still sense danger when it approached. Any threat truly aimed at him stirred a warning deep inside—a vague but unmistakable premonition.
And right now, in all of Hogwarts, the only person capable of seriously threatening him was that man.
Besides, with Dumbledore's letter of authority in hand, he had a powerful lifeline. Should anything go wrong, he wasn't defenseless.
"But—" Dumbledore began again.
Roger cut him off gently. "It can't always be you protecting me, can it? I should help you too, right?"
The tensions in the Middle East had never truly died down. The Seers and mystics from that region were no trivial matter. While Roger enjoyed peace within Hogwarts, it was Dumbledore who had been quietly shielding him from outside threats—keeping the worst of the world at bay.
Roger wasn't the kind of person to accept that protection passively.
If he could lighten Dumbledore's burden, even just a little, he would do so without hesitation.
Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded.
"…Alright then," he said softly. "Let's discuss the rest—everything you need to know about the Philosopher's Stone."
Because his visit tonight had more than one purpose.
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