Chapter 38: Wands and EMPs

Roger Travis

Upon seeing this letter, I trust you have already reclaimed your wand. Ebony, unicorn hair core, twelve inches, quite resilient. These characteristics suggest that this wand is extraordinary, and they also imply that its master will achieve great things in the future.

During our time together in Diagon Alley, I judged that you would become an exceptionally gifted wizard. Your unfortunate past has not tainted the noble soul of a wizard. You carry yourself with composure and independence, though you have your shortcomings, such as being unable to withstand Mr. Ollivander’s relentless sales pitches.

Perhaps you already know that wand regulation for pre-enrolled wizards is not enforced with 100% consistency. You might even be filled with resentment toward me, wondering why your wand, of all things, was confiscated. Forgive me, child; the unicorn hair core in this wand is linked to an incident from sixty years ago, and I had to take it for further verification. I offer you my apologies, and I hope you learn that waiting is a rare and precious virtue.

I have entrusted a house-elf to deliver a copy of my own personal notes on Transfiguration from my student days, in the hope that they may provide some small measure of assistance on your future magical journey.

Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall

After reading the letter, the dissatisfaction Roger felt toward Professor McGonagall vanished. However, it was getting late, and he needed to hurry and write a letter back. He picked up his quill and filled three sheets of parchment with a sprawling letter to Jessica. Then, he skillfully manipulated his camera with magic to take a magical photograph of himself.

It was a pity that the wizarding world lacked instant film; the negatives required special chemical processing before they would animate. Roger couldn't help but think that if he could develop a magical version inspired by the digital cameras and polaroids of the future, it would surely be a bestseller in the wizarding world. He jotted the idea down in his notebook, packed the negatives and the letter, and rushed out with his mokeskin pouch.

"Excuse me!" Roger dashed into the common room, nearly colliding with a first-year coming from the opposite direction.

"It's fine," Daphne smiled. She had pale golden hair that reached her waist, shimmering with a soft luster under the lights. Her clear blue eyes sparkled with curiosity; she clearly recognized Roger as the boy who had been gorging himself at the banquet.

"Who are you?" Roger looked at the witch, who was slightly taller than him, and had no recollection of her.

"My name is Daphne Greengrass, a pure-blood, just like you."

"Time is running out, I have to go," Roger nodded, glancing at the clock in the common room. Curfew was in ten minutes!

Roger hurried into the courtyard and released Celer from his mokeskin pouch. "Celer, do you see the West Tower? That’s the owlery where you'll be staying." He fed the owl a bit of the provisions he carried and handed over the letter. "Deliver this to Jessica. If there’s a reply, you can find me in the Great Hall or drop it off in the Slytherin common room mailbox." As Roger shouted his instructions, Celer shot into the night sky like a white arrow, vanishing in an instant.

"That’s so fast!" Daphne closed the cage, looking curiously at Roger’s bag. "What is that?"

"A bag that can hold magical creatures; it's called a mokeskin pouch." Roger demonstrated it, then raised his wrist. "Wait, is it broken?"

"What about this?" Daphne pointed at the object on Roger’s wrist, which looked like a watch.

"It’s an electronic watch. How could it be broken?" Roger tapped it hard, but there was no reaction.

"Is it a Muggle item?" She frowned. Seeing Roger nod, she kindly warned him, "Hogwarts causes all Muggle devices that run on electricity to malfunction."

"What! There's magic like that? Isn't that an EMP?" Roger’s mouth fell open; all the Muggle devices he had brought were now completely useless.

"EMP? Is that a Muggle word?"

"Yeah, electromagnetic pulse..." Roger looked rather crestfallen, feeling more and more that the magical world was not necessarily more advanced than the one outside.

"I think if we don't hurry, we won't make it." Daphne shook the silver pocket watch in her hand; curfew was moments away.

The two exchanged a look and sprinted toward the castle. Neither of them wanted to be caught by the caretaker on their first day.

"Just barely! Just a second off!" Filch sighed with regret, watching helplessly as the two young wizards vanished around the corner of the corridor at the very last second.

Roger and Daphne, both exhausted, burst into the common room, laughing as they caught their breath. "That was too close; we almost got caught."

"And we would have lost points for it, too," Daphne said, clutching her heaving chest, though she had to admit it was indeed thrilling.

"See you tomorrow, Miss Daphne!"

"Mr. Roger, please remember my full name?" Daphne prompted. "Greengrass."

"Right, Miss Greengrass. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight!" Daphne watched Roger walk away before heading toward the girls' dormitory.

"Ah, a beautiful day begins with sleep!" Roger jumped into bed, looking forward to the magical life that would begin tomorrow.

Early the next morning, he woke up unusually early. He tapped the silent steam-whistle alarm clock by his bed, but the toy—a replica of a SpongeBob alarm clock—was completely dead. "I wanted to live a life that wasn't Merlin-forsaken!"

He washed up, put on his school robes, and tied his tie. After checking his textbooks and wand, he headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Morning, Hermione!" Roger waved to Hermione at the Gryffindor table. He hadn't expected Miss Granger to be the first one there.

"Hmph." Hermione snorted coldly; she still couldn't get over the fact that Roger joining Slytherin had caused her to lose to Ron.

Watching Hermione pick up her plate and turn away, Roger wondered: Who had upset Miss Granger this time? A girl's heart was truly hard to understand, even at eleven. Seeing Roger sit down to eat with such composure only made Hermione angrier. She finished her meal quickly, clutched her textbooks, and left the Great Hall without looking back, off to read somewhere.

Roger felt a bit awkward, but given Hermione’s nature as a study fanatic, she would probably be over it by the time they reached Transfiguration class after her morning self-study.

"Good morning, Roger," Elena said, looking at him with surprise. "I didn't think our Sleeping Beauty would be up this early."

"Morning, Elena!" Roger nodded, watching the groups of Ravenclaws and sighing at how diligent they were. While other houses were still fast asleep, the little eagles were already in the Great Hall.

"Elena, what class do you have this morning?" Roger asked curiously.

"Professor Snape’s Potions class," Elena whispered, looking a bit nervous. "The prefects said the Potions classroom is in the dungeons. The whole wall is lined with glass jars containing animal specimens."

"Don't be afraid, Elena," Roger reassured the young witch. "Aside from his favoritism, our Head of House is actually quite alright." Roger wasn't just sucking up to Snape; looking at the entire Harry Potter story, Snape was actually quite decent to other students, aside from his excessive bias against Harry.

"Let me tell you a secret," Roger leaned in and whispered into Elena’s ear. "I heard Snape’s Patronus has something to do with Gryffindor."

"Oh? A lion?" Elena’s eyes widened. "That’s amazing! The Slytherin Head of House’s Patronus is a lion?"

"No, no, no. I just said it has something to do with Gryffindor; I didn't say it was a lion," Roger smirked. If Elena ever dug into Snape’s youthful days, her jaw would surely drop.

Down in the dungeons, Snape was organizing his potions when he sneezed for no reason. He rubbed his nose, unaware that one of his little snakes was spilling his secrets behind his back.

"Good morning, Roger," Daphne approached with a large group of girls and sat down beside him, brushing off her friends. "You don't just sleep all day, do you?" Daphne stared at his profile; it was hard for anyone to forget the sleepy, gluttonous little wizard from the Sorting Ceremony. "You’re really eating that little?" She couldn't believe her eyes. Was she wrong about him yesterday?

"It really is because of the potion," Roger explained to Daphne, looking helpless. "The effects of yesterday’s dose have worn off. It’s only after I take the potion in the morning that I get sleepy and hungry."

"Oh! Then won't you be falling asleep in Potions class?" Daphne asked, looking at him with concern.