A magical journey that begins in Azkaban.

Chapter 525: Cunning Death

Fortunately, Roger's arrival saved everything. His efforts gave Travis, who was on the verge of extinction, a new life, and the family's power in the magic world also flourished.

Now, no matter which department of the Ministry of Magic he wants to enter after graduation, someone will have prepared a position for him in advance and wait for him to move in.

What's more, Roger himself is also an extremely good wizard. Putting aside his wealth and pure-blood status, his outstanding attainments in potions and spells are enough to make him famous in the wizarding world.

Roger used his index finger to hold the handkerchief and wiped the food residue from the corner of his mouth. He quietly destroyed Buck's letter and opened the third letter he received today.

"Rogge, you bastard! A greedy, evil-minded wizard with a bad heart!"

Bellinrum's sharp voice burst out of the envelope, and the angry roar hit the eardrums heavily. In an instant, it attracted the attention of everyone in the auditorium.

Daphne covered her mouth in surprise, marveling at how well the Howler Letter was hidden. Draco opened his mouth in shock, letting the bread fall to the ground.

From the other side of the hall, familiar laughter could be heard from time to time. It seemed that seeing Roger embarrassed was the greatest pleasure for Harry and the Weasleys.

"Bellinrum is such a cunning guy, he's quite good at setting traps." Rogge shook his head helplessly, letting the roaring letter crumble in his hand.

Generally speaking, a Howler is just a magic envelope that contains a voice message. The recipient has to pull the string on the front to make it emit a deafening roar.

But the cunning goblin disguised it and deliberately added a layer of ordinary envelope outside the Howling Letter to make Roger relax his vigilance.

When he opened the outer ordinary envelope, he would undo the cord attached to the inside of the opening, thus activating the Howler.

Draco approached cautiously and gossiped in a low voice, "Rogge, which audacious fellow sent you the Howler letter? He even dared to call you a black-hearted wizard to your face!"

"I think this is a rather controversial nickname..."

Before he finished speaking, he met Roger's rather sharp gaze, which seemed to ask: "What does controversial mean?"

"Uh... I mean, that person made up a very inappropriate nickname." Draco quickly corrected himself and accused loudly: "Totally wrong!"

Roger glared at him helplessly, it would be better not to explain. He replied calmly: "It was sent by the goblin, and I asked for a large reward from it some time ago."

"That explains it all." Draco nodded, pointing at the fragments of the Howler letter and said, "Those guys are even more stingy than Theodore. They just want to eat and not poop."

"Hey, Draco, are you scolding me?" Theodore looked up from his plate, and the two immediately started to make sarcastic remarks to each other.

Draco accused Theodore of being stingy and haggling over even the cost of a bottle of soda. Theodore countered that he was a cheapskate and secretly took the crystal ornaments in the common room when no one was paying attention.

Seeing this, Rogge curled his lips, brushed off the letter residue on his body, and opened the letter sent by Dawlish: There is no problem with the plan, I have obtained the minister's authorization.

He stood up, a gleam in his eyes.

No matter what plans Dumbledore and Voldemort have, it will not affect their goal: to create a continent belonging to magic and wizards.

This grand plan is not only for the benefit of pure blood, but also represents the interests of countless ordinary wizards. Even Dumbledore himself can hardly stop the ambitions of the entire wizarding world.

The fifth-year courses were progressing as planned, and the professors were not affected by the temporary absence of the principal. In almost every class, they would give instructions to the students to understand the importance of OWLs.

Although Roger completed his thesis quickly, the homework on his desk continued to pile up rapidly like an avalanche.

Hermione had lost track of time, feeling busier than she had been in her third year using the Time-Turner. Even on weekends, she and Ariana spent their weekends in the common room, writing furiously on parchment.

"I really want to go out and play in the snow." Hermione stood up, stretched, and looked out the window.

Students above the third grade wore cloaks and marched happily towards Hogsmeade; Roger stood in the corner, seemingly talking to someone in the shadows; snowballs flew over the tower and slammed against the glass of the lounge.

"Hey, stop it!" Ron was annoyed by the noise and pushed open the window to stop them.

He stuck his head out of the window and yelled at the troublemakers below: "I'm the prefect. If another snowball hits this window... Ouch."

Before he finished his order, a snowball flew towards him. As he wished, the snowball did not fall on the glass, but hit his face.

"Dear Prefect Ron, we did not disobey your orders." George and Fred's sarcastic voices came from outside, followed by several snowballs.

Ron drew his head back in panic, no longer using his status as a prefect to intimidate troublemakers.

The others who were still studying in the common room were stealing glances at him, and the snickering made the sensitive prefect Ron feel a prickly sensation.

He quickly closed the textbook and said to Harry, Neville and other members of Lionheart and Shield, "Let's go to the library to study. The noise outside is giving me a headache!"

Everyone looked at each other in silence, and looked at Harry at the same time. Seeing him nod in agreement, the group filed out and left the Gryffindor common room.

"What a childish temper." Ariana sighed lightly and whispered in Hermione's ear: "Almost all the people in their club are fans of Harry Potter. Especially Colin, who almost worships Harry as Merlin."

"As for Weasley's position as vice president, it has nothing on the authority you have in the Jackdaw Magic Society."

Hermione raised her neck proudly and took off the golden jackdaw badge from her chest. On the branch held by the crow, four lilies of the valley swayed slightly, emitting a delicate fragrance.

"Harry claims that he founded this club to fight Voldemort, but in my opinion, it's just for his own amusement." Hermione's fingers gently stroked the flowers on the badge, her face full of pride: "They have neither a clear organizational structure nor a study schedule, and they can't even design a badge."

"And this Jackdaw badge of mine will bloom into the full appearance of seven lilies of the valley in two years. By then, it will surely be incomparably beautiful."

Ariana stared at the badge with envy. Although she could follow Hermione into the Jackdaw Magic Society because of the spell, she could not formally apply to join until the next school year.

"Aria," Hermione called out by her most intimate nickname, "Why don't you apply for the exam in advance?"

"Apply in advance?" Ariana's eyes lit up.

"You have already mastered all the first- and second-year courses. If you apply to the professors for an early assessment now, I think they will readily agree."

"As long as your grades meet the admission requirements of the Jackdaw Magic Society, you can officially join and have your own Jackdaw badge." Hermione smiled, pinned her badge on her clothes, and exclaimed: "It looks so beautiful on you."

"Will the president agree?" Ariana stroked it nervously and asked nervously, "It seems a bit opportunistic for us to do this."

"Not at all!" Hermione shook her head firmly, her chestnut hair fluttering. "Look, the only application requirement for the Jackdaw Magic Society is academic performance, right?"

"Yes."

"It's not against school rules to take the test early, right? After all, your situation is special."

"Hmm~"

"So as long as you pass the assessment and get perfect grades, can you apply to join?"

"should……"

"There's no should or shouldn't be, absolutely no problem!" Hermione closed the paper, pulled her up and walked out: "Let's go find Professor McGonagall now, if she agrees, we'll do as I say!"

"Except for Snape, other professors are very friendly and will not deliberately make things difficult for students. Even if we get stuck in the Potions class, we can ask Roger to think of a solution. After all, he has such a good relationship with Snape." Hermione said confidently.

"Have you considered the course selection? Oh, you want to choose that charlatan Trelawney's prophecy class..."

The two of them chatted and laughed as they walked along the quiet corridor. Hermione had no idea that her enthusiasm and concern had made Ariana like her even better.

Just as Hermione was about to turn into the courtyard, she suddenly noticed a familiar figure in the other direction. Roger was still standing in the snow, thinking silently.

The black-robed man in the shadow stared at him quietly, and did not seem to be a wizard from Hogwarts.

"What's wrong with him? Who is that person?" Hermione frowned and thought to herself, then turned around and said, "Alia, let's go over and take a look."

Ariana's mouth corners turned down slightly, her eyes passed over Hermione's shoulder and fell on the black robe, and a trace of uneasiness rose involuntarily in her heart.

The being in the black robe seemed to sense her gaze and slightly lifted the huge hood that covered his head. In the darkness under the hood, two terrifying bone-white lights seemed to flash.

"Rogge, didn't you go to Hogsmeade?" Hermione ran over quickly, looking at the black-robed man in front of her suspiciously.

She hugged her arms subconsciously, feeling a chill running down her spine and into her brain. Considering the current turbulent situation in the wizarding world, she couldn't help but suspect that this secretive stranger was a Death Eater.

Roger smiled faintly and said in a gentle tone, "Don't get me wrong, Hermione. This is an old friend I met in France. I couldn't help but chat with him for a while."

"This is what you are doing?"

"Oh, I'm going to see the Dean with Ariana," Hermione explained after she came to her senses.

"Why don't we go to Hogsmeade together later?" Roger looked at Ariana meaningfully.

"Okay, we'll be right there!" Hermione responded happily and trotted towards Ariana.

After the two figures completely disappeared around the corner, Rogge took a deep breath and whispered, "She's not the only one who escaped death. Isn't the invisibility cloak you left behind also a tool for others to cheat death?"

"These are two different things." A voice came from the black robe. "You only know that Ignotus won the invisibility cloak, but you don't know that his two brothers have paid the corresponding price for it."

"Balanced?" Roger asked tentatively, "The Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone caused the early death of the two brothers, and constantly tempted other wizards to the embrace of death. However, the holder of the Invisibility Cloak can survive under it.

Not only does dying early and dying late balance out, you even earn enough interest.”

"You are very smart." Death replied calmly, without any emotion in his voice, as if a gust of wind passed by Roger's ears.

"The wizard who made a contract with me took the girl away from my scythe. He fled to the past, making it impossible for me to catch him."

"So, I need you to pay the price of the contract for him."

Roger narrowed his eyes, flashing a dangerous light. He did not dwell on what kind of contract Grindelwald had signed with the god of death, but was ready to fight.

The magic power in his body was flowing strongly and secretly, and the fire element in the air quickly condensed in his palm. At this moment, even the darkness itself was shrouded in dark clouds and gathered towards him.

“Are you looking for trouble on purpose?!” He stared at the bottomless abyss of nothingness under his hood and snorted coldly, “Are you seeking revenge for the last time I broke the Elder Wand?”

"Hey, what if I say it's not?" Death casually reached out and broke off a snow-covered osmanthus branch, and a brand new magic wand was created.

"Dark Chosen, this is the price a wizard pays for blaspheming death. In the signed contract, he wrote you as the ultimate beneficiary."

Roger was amazed at the power of the God of Death, who was simply the incarnation of rules. With just a casual wave, he could transform an ordinary branch into a powerful magic wand that wizards dreamed of.

The wizard is like an ant in front of an elephant. Even if it casually removes a little dirt from its gums, it is enough for the ants to enjoy eternal life.

Knowing that the two sides were not in the same dimension, Roger still had enough courage and wisdom.

"Since I am the ultimate beneficiary of that contract, can I see the contract itself?"

"That's not necessary." Death responded calmly, with a hint of contempt in his tone.

Roger stared at Zhi intently, his heart burning with anger. But he suppressed his impulse and sneered: "So, what is the price you want me to pay?"

"The scales of death will weigh everything." There was a barely perceptible hint of mockery in the Grim Reaper's voice.

He arrogantly pulled out a platinum scale from his wide sleeves. Against the backdrop of the snow, it shone with an unnatural white light, as if chicken bones were coated with arsenic and frozen into the dead.

"Did you calculate everything long ago and deliberately explain everything to me on the last day of debt collection? You chatted with me for so long just to delay time so that I could only pay the price you wanted?"

The Grim Reaper remained silent and snapped his fingers.

In an instant, the world in front of Rogge was quickly stripped of all its brilliance. It was like entering a veil of light and shadow. Mountains, castles, trees... everything degenerated into the simplest lines.

The god of death stretched out his palm and accurately caught Ariana's fate line. Her soul flew along this black line and quickly flew into the tray at one end of the scale, and it instantly lost its balance.

"Death requires death to pay, and the soul requires soul to redeem." The God of Death explained coldly, with a tone that revealed a sense of evil taste for teasing mortals.

Looking at the bone palm grabbing him, Roger subconsciously wanted to resist. But he found that his body was shrinking rapidly, and the thread of his fate was firmly controlled by the god of death.

The panel, which had been silent for a long time, showed a new status:
Roger Travis (Mandatory Judgment, Dark Asylum)
Mana: 402/476
Mental Power: 238
Talents: Dark God's Choice, Psychopathy, Elemental Heart, Strong Will, Night Vision...

The Grim Reaper raised his head, stared at the darkness behind Roger, and said coldly: "No one can break the contract, not even we can break the rules."

He just smiled cunningly, as if he had already determined that the scale would be unbalanced.

He just slowly looked at Rogge's fate line, as if he was observing a captive bird in a zoo.

Its large hood turned towards Rogge, its tone full of playfulness and disdain: "Wizards always think they can transcend death, or become the master of death. But you don't know that death is there, like a mountain."

"I never mind if someone tries to climb this mountain, because I can lose countless times, but you can only lose once. All the deception and blasphemy will be repaid after death."

"You wizards think you can use contracts to negotiate with God on an equal footing. But don't you know that the high-ranking person who signed the contract always has the final right of interpretation?" It added with a sneer.

"When Grindelwald escapes to old times, the remaining names in the contract will be judged dead."

"You ask me what the price is." The Grim Reaper smiled happily, proud of himself for taking away the other's favorite toy under the eyes of darkness. "If the scales cannot be balanced, I will take your soul."

"Roger Travis, you will become one of my favorite collections, I promise you and the darkness behind you!"

"Sorry, there is a loophole in what you said." Although Roger wanted to insult the God of Death as a slug, in the face of the opponent's absolute strength, he chose to remain rational and respectful rather than impotent and furious.

“What if this side is heavier?” He pointed at the towering, empty tray and shot back in a deep voice: “Death requires death to pay, and the soul requires soul to redeem.”

(End of this chapter)