Chapter 25: The Reason for Being Sorted into Gryffindor?

As soon as Roger entered the room, he noticed the lingering trace of worry at the corners of Professor McGonagall’s eyes.

"Professor, has something happened? Is there anything I can do to help?" Roger asked, his voice full of genuine concern.

Although he had come to see Professor McGonagall to arrange some official business, he was not in a particular rush. Having been arrested by the Ministry of Magic in the past, he was well-acquainted with their typical behavior. While not entirely corrupt, the Ministry was rife with bureaucracy as stifling as anything found in *Yes, Prime Minister*. Most departments functioned essentially as interest groups for powerful wizards and influential families, and as someone with little sway, getting anything done inevitably meant getting bogged down in endless red tape.

The International Statute of Secrecy was signed in 1689—around the time of the transition between the Ming and Qing dynasties—and from then on, wizarding influence was delineated by Muggle national borders. Local wizarding authorities, led by the strongest regional factions (such as the Wizengamot and the Department of Mysteries in Britain), established organizations similar to the Ministry of Magic to manage the local wizarding populations. However, the wizards and factions that had originally monopolized magical resources and knowledge were never going to willingly surrender their assets to state control. Smaller groups were crushed by the tides of history, their possessions reduced to the magical texts sold openly today, while the powerful and irreplaceable ones were simply absorbed into the system.

It was much like when a country’s water and electricity are monopolized by a single family; government officials, many of whom have accepted political contributions from those same families, find their hands tied, often to the point of creating specialized positions just to accommodate them. Roger knew that obtaining the Undetectable Extension Charm and securing the rights to use it would not be simple. Even if Professor McGonagall were willing to help, the approval process across various departments would likely drag on for months.

Since he was in no hurry and Professor McGonagall was clearly troubled, Roger prioritized her concerns. She was not only his initial guide into the wizarding world but had also provided him with invaluable assistance in countless ways—it was no exaggeration to say she had saved him years of wasted effort. Roger took her difficulties to heart; he never let those who had helped him suffer.

"It is nothing of great importance, really," Professor McGonagall said, waving a hand dismissively at Roger’s earnest expression. "It is just... regarding Quidditch... sigh." A look of faint embarrassment crossed her face.

Quidditch was a popular wizarding sport and the only one with large-scale competitions at Hogwarts. Much like football or basketball, the goal was for the "athletes" to get the ball into the opponent’s goal to score points. However, Quidditch was played on flying broomsticks in mid-air, and the balls themselves possessed the ability to fly independently—it was said to be a sport that had evolved from aerial magical combat.

The inter-house competition at Hogwarts involved each of the four houses fielding a representative team. Last year, Gryffindor had been soundly defeated by Slytherin, and as the Head of Gryffindor House, Minerva McGonagall had avoided crossing paths with Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin, for weeks. Snape’s talent for caustic, biting sarcasm was legendary, and she had no desire to provoke him.

Hearing this, a flash of awkwardness crossed Roger’s eyes. He realized what the problem was before she even finished her sentence; in a way, he was partly to blame.

Since the start of the term, while he had devoted most of his energy to study and magical experimentation, he had not been idle. For instance, if classmates came to him with questions, he would provide answers, believing in the value of reviewing the old to learn the new. When students caused accidents in class, he would help the professors clean up the mess. And whenever conflicts broke out between Gryffindor and their old rivals, the Slytherins, he would step in as a peacemaker. He was a student himself, after all, and he had no desire to see bullying unfold right in front of him.

...Though, regardless of whether they were from Gryffindor or Slytherin, most students found Roger’s brutal, heavy-handed methods of "persuasion" chilling, and few were truly grateful. Yet, under the "deterrence" of his presence, the two houses always acted with restraint whenever he was around. Consequently, the confrontation between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter during their first flying lesson never happened; everyone behaved, and no one dared to act out. Harry never had the chance to display his immense flying talent before the eyes of his peers and Professor McGonagall—flying was dangerous, and Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, would never allow students to attempt reckless maneuvers.

This had led to the current situation, where Professor McGonagall was distressed because their previous Seeker, Charlie Weasley, had graduated, and the Gryffindor team lacked a strong replacement. The Seeker was the most critical position in Quidditch; the game had no time limit and only ended when the Seeker caught the Golden Snitch. Without a Seeker capable of making the catch, a match could theoretically go on forever.

Connecting the dots, Roger asked, "Is this about the search for a new Seeker?"

"Yes."

"Then let Harry try out. Although it is unconventional for a first-year to be a Seeker, I am sure Headmaster Dumbledore would approve."

"...Do you think he can do it?" Professor McGonagall had never heard of Harry possessing such talent.

"Trust me, he will be fine." Roger tapped his eyes as he spoke.

Professor McGonagall understood: a prophecy! As a powerful seer, it made perfect sense that he could see the root of her distress at a glance and provide a solution.

Seeing Professor McGonagall nod, a smile tugged at the corner of Roger’s mouth. Harry Potter had inherited his father’s natural talent, making him terrifyingly good at Quidditch. Furthermore, Roger had recently performed a total nervous system optimization on him; at this moment, Harry’s athletic potential was shining as if it had been boosted to +15 by an enchantment machine. He was certain that Harry, armed with his natural skills and a level of grit and endurance that would stun the audience, would bring infinite surprises to all his opponents.

"Actually, the flying lesson is happening soon. You can test him yourself then; Harry’s abilities will satisfy you." Roger felt it was best to let Harry demonstrate his skills; otherwise, if he were suddenly parachuted onto the team, it might cause friction among the other players. He knew all too well that deep-seated grudges often began with the most trivial of matters. Harry had helped him before, and Roger naturally wanted to eliminate any potential risks for him.

With Professor McGonagall’s troubles settled, Roger turned to the real reason for his visit.

"You want to perform magical modifications on your own brain?!" After Roger explained his general intent, Professor McGonagall’s eyes widened, her expression one of utter disbelief, as if to say, *You have lost your mind.*

Modifying one’s own brain with magic—what kind of concept was that? It was as absurd as a Muggle reading a few medical books and attempting to perform their own craniotomy or linking a human brain directly to machinery!

She finally understood why a boy who spent every waking moment with his nose in a book had been sorted into Gryffindor. Other Gryffindors might be "brave," but that usually just meant being mischievous or playing pranks on teachers. But you—you were truly willing to risk your life!