A magical journey that begins in Azkaban.

Chapter 556 Cold and Questioning

This phoenix egg brought back from the magic forest of Eastern Europe was still in a deep sleep because of its overdrawn life force. Its shell was gleaming with a faint golden-red light in the sun.

Roger took it from Beibei, and instantly, a warm current penetrated the eggshell and reached deep into his heart. The warm energy from life began to nourish his soul and body.

He was surprised to find that the blisters on his skin were receding at a speed visible to the naked eye. He felt a sense of relief and whispered softly, "Thank you, little one."

"Huh..." Rogge let out a long sigh and floated on the water holding the phoenix egg. At this moment, he seemed to be integrated with the whole world.

The cold winter wind mixed with the dazzling sunlight, wave after wave, trying to ripple the lake surface. Roger squinted his eyes, feeling like he was in a cool air-conditioned room in summer.

It was 46.2 degrees outside and 16 degrees inside. He wrapped himself in a soft quilt, lying comfortably on the cool rattan mat, burying his head deeply in the fluffy pillow.

On the small table next to it, there was half an iced watermelon and a glass of iced coke that was emitting a hint of coolness. The cup was full of steam, and each drop of water was crystal clear and full... Everything was so beautiful.

Unconsciously, his heartbeat was transmitted to the phoenix egg. A mysterious and faint rhythm was gradually synchronizing with the heart in his chest.

In the dim light, Roger's sight was attracted by a ball of dancing flames. The flames were like a golden snitch, dancing quickly in the air. It was as agile and graceful as an elf, yet elusive.

Rogge couldn't help but reach out to catch the dancing flame, his heart full of curiosity and anticipation. The flame seemed to have a spirit, deliberately staying on his fingertips for a second, and just when Rogge thought he was going to succeed, it playfully jumped away, leaving him empty-handed.

The second time, the third time... Each time it missed, the flame always escaped nimbly at the last moment. Roger couldn't help laughing as he watched it parade its might in front of him.

"Okay, okay." He reluctantly gave up the doomed effort, "You win, I can't catch you."

The flame seemed to see through his thoughts and became even bolder. It flickered playfully in front of Roger's eyes and nose, as if to challenge him: "Come on, play for a while longer."

"Let's go, let's go, I'm going to sleep." He waved his hand, turned around and was about to leave.

Unexpectedly, the little flame became anxious, and it eagerly floated in front of Roger, blocking his way out. The flame kept flapping, as if it wanted to say something to him.

Finally, the little flame suddenly exerted force and drilled into Rogue's chest.

The pure white dream world shattered like a mirror under the impact of the flames, turning into countless crystal snow flakes. At the same time, the phoenix egg in his arms made a clear cry, and the halo became more obvious.

Clouds passed over the mountains, covering the earth like a thick quilt. The sun moved to the west, but still could not penetrate them. The snow fell slowly and quietly, slowly covering the lake with a thin layer of ice.

Roger's jet-black hair and fluffy beard also turned white. His nostrils flared slightly, blowing away the itchiness caused by the snowflakes in his sleep.

"Ah...A-choo..." A loud sneeze was like the roar of a dragon, scaring the fire in the fireplace to shake three times.

"Master, are you okay?" Beibei held a bowl of steaming soup and looked at Roger worriedly. His big eyes were full of anxiety and his pointed ears trembled slightly.

Roger held the phoenix egg tightly, like a life-saving straw. He slept in the lake for a whole day and night. Although the blisters caused by the snake venom were temporarily suppressed, he caught a cold.

"Aqiu..." Another violent sneeze, snot flying out. Roger sniffed his nose a few times in a hurry, and hurriedly pulled out a tissue and blew it hard.

"You..." He was about to speak, but the hot steam from the bowl irritated his nose. Before he could finish his words, he sneezed again.

On the table next to them, used tissues were crumpled and bunched up. They were piled up in a small white pyramid. If someone who didn't know what was going on saw it, they might mistake it for some kind of personal activity.

With no other choice, Roger had to twist the tissue into strips and stuff them into his nostrils, which looked funny and pitiful.

“Why don’t you pull me up?” He said in a muffled voice, having to breathe through his mouth. His voice sounded like a baritone singer: “Help me find the blanket made of fire dragon skin. I feel like I’m freezing.”

Beibei didn't bother to explain. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared from the spot and rushed into the cloakroom upstairs.

"Master, it's Beibei's fault..."

"Okay, I'm just complaining a few words. Don't punish yourself." Rogge put on the dragon skin blanket, stroked the dragon egg in his arms, and immediately felt warm all over.

"You need to make the fireplace hotter," Roger said weakly. He only drank half a bowl of soup, but his stomach was already bloated and he had no appetite at all.

He gave a few more instructions, then wrapped in a blanket and hugged the phoenix egg and fell into a deep sleep. The firelight danced on his pale face, casting a blush on it.

After an unknown amount of time, a familiar voice penetrated his dream: "Rogge? Rogge?!"

Roger opened his eyes dazedly, and his vision slowly focused. It was pitch black outside the window, but there was a group of people standing by the sofa, with different expressions on their faces, some worried, some amused.

"Are you catching a cold?" Jessica held him in her arms distressedly. Looking at her son's haggard appearance, she kissed his forehead tenderly. "Mom will take you to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Sins."

A Ministry of Magic employee in robes reminded: "Madam, a summons from the Wizengamot..."

Jessica turned her head sharply, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't mention any subpoenas or Wizengamot to me!"

She glared at the Ministry of Magic employee in front of her like an angry lioness, "Can't you see my son is sick? Get out of here!" she roared angrily.

Roger was awakened by the sudden noise and sat up weakly.

"Mom, I'm fine." He rubbed his eyes and found that the symptoms of the cold had subsided, but his temperature was still very low.

He subconsciously tightened the dragon skin blanket around him and asked in confusion, "Is the Wizengamot at work? It's still a holiday now."

The Ministry employee coughed and looked relieved, as if he was happy that the topic was back on track: "Hey, Roger, the Wizengamot doesn't have holidays."

The other party raised his wrist to check his watch, and the hour hand just passed 12 o'clock. "If I'm not mistaken, the Christmas holiday will be over at this time tomorrow."

"Ah?? So today is the last day of the holiday!" Roger opened his mouth in surprise and muttered to himself, "I just took a nap. Beibei!"

"Master, did you call me?"

"How many days did I sleep?"

"Three and a half days."

“So long?” Before he could finish his sentence, his stomach suddenly made a loud growling sound, as if in protest.

Jessica became even more worried when she heard this. She said anxiously and angrily, "Don't worry about how many days you've slept. Come with me to the hospital for a physical check-up. Then have a good meal. Listen, I know I'm hungry."

"Mom, I don't have a fever anymore." Roger tried to comfort his mother while secretly glancing at the table.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and found that his previous "great achievement" had been cleaned up by Beibei. If they rushed in and saw the pile of paper balls wrapped in sticky, unknown liquid, he would have no way to defend himself.

"If you don't believe me, feel it."

Jessica placed the back of her hand on Roger's forehead with some doubt, and nodded with some relief: "It's indeed not hot anymore, but why is it so cold? It feels lower than normal body temperature. Beibei, go upstairs and get some more suitable clothes."

Roger half-jokingly said, "Maybe he's hungry." "Ahem..." The staff sent by the Wizengamot was a real downer. Before the mother and son could finish, they interrupted the conversation forcefully, "Roger, please come with us to the Wizengamot."

"Now?"

The Ministry of Magic employee nodded, his tone very firm: "Yes, now!"

He seemed to have thought of something and said soothingly, "Don't worry, if everything goes well, you can catch the Hogwarts Express tomorrow morning."

He raised his arm and showed Jessica and Roger the summons from the Wizengamot. Under the light of the chandelier, an exquisite scroll slowly unfolded, with the following words written in elegant cursive:

No.: WM-1996114-0001
Dear Mr. Roger Travis:
In accordance with the relevant laws and regulations such as the Statute of Magical Secrecy, the Protection of Magical Creatures Act and the Code of Wizarding Conduct, the Wizengamot now summons you to the Wizengamot Court for questioning regarding your alleged injury to hostages during the execution of your mission.

Please be sure to arrive at the designated location before [January 1th 14:2]. Failure to arrive by the deadline will be deemed as a waiver of the right to appeal, and the Wizengamot has the right to impose corresponding penalties on you in accordance with the law.

Roger's eyes fell on the bright red Wizengamot seal below the scroll. The deep red color seemed to mock his situation.

He couldn't help but curl his lips, his tone full of sarcasm: "Are you guys so idle? You've already started working today, and it's still early in the morning."

The other party seemed not to notice the irony in Roger's words, or chose to ignore it. He just replied in a businesslike manner: "The Wizengamot has been working to maintain justice and order in the wizarding world. Time is not important, what is important is fairness."

As soon as he finished speaking, his companion muttered, "It's just that the International Confederation of Magic and the Magical Congress of the United States of America want to jointly investigate the matter, and the minister couldn't withstand the pressure."

Although his voice was low, the words were still clearly audible in the silent room.

"Oh, it sounds like a secret, dirty political manipulation and deal." Roger raised his eyebrows, his tone revealing contempt, "The Wizengamot is here with ill intentions."

"It's just an ordinary questioning..."

Roger interrupted him rudely, his eyes sharp: "Interrogation at two o'clock in the morning? I think it's a secret trial."

When Jessica heard this, her maternal desire to protect her son surged up like a tide. She didn't care what the Wizengamot was planning, she only cared about her son's safety.

She decisively took Roger's hand and walked towards the fireplace. Her voice was firm and threatening: "If we are overdue, then we are overdue. If you have the guts, ask Amelia to send the Aurors to arrest us."

"Now, get out of our manor. I want to take my son to the hospital for a physical examination." She turned around, her eyes as sharp as a knife, and looked directly at the Ministry of Magic employees.

The other party looked at each other and shouted quickly: "Mrs. Jessica..." Their voices were obviously panicked.

"Mom, I'm fine." Roger gently grabbed Jessica who had already taken a step and shook his head slightly.

He said softly, "A man of integrity has nothing to fear. Let's go if we can. Anyway, the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's are both in London, so just think of it as a walk."

Jessica tried to persuade him several times, but she couldn't get over her son's insistence. Finally, she nodded helplessly, but the worry in her eyes did not diminish at all.

However, she stared at the Ministry of Magic staff, her tone cold and threatening: "This year the Ministry of Magic will not receive a single Knut donation from the Travis family."

The wizards in front of them opened their mouths awkwardly, and everyone's expression was a little unnatural. They lamented in their hearts: I am also paid, and when you big guys fight, we are the ones who get hurt in the end. My year-end bonus next year~~~
The Wizengamot was a little deserted tonight, with a dozen wizards sitting on the high platform in front. They were wearing purple robes with a delicate silver "W" embroidered on their left chests, and everyone's expression was serious and solemn.

On their left sat representatives from the Magical Congress of the United States of America, wearing unique badges on their chests, with focused expressions and occasionally talking in low voices.

On the right hand side were important figures in the British wizarding world. Roger glanced over and saw some familiar faces: Headmaster Dumbledore, Lucius, the Longbottoms, Sirius Black...

Mrs. Greengrass smiled at him gently and encouraged him secretly, which made Roger feel a little warmer.

However, his eyes were still heavy, because on the podium, members of the Order of the Phoenix occupied half, and the rest were wizards from pure-blood families. This ratio meant that Dumbledore could influence the final voting results.

Rogge understood that he had to take every problem seriously and try his best to convince every wizard on the platform.

Behind him sat a few scattered wizards. Most of them were yawning, and it looked like they had just been pulled out of their warm beds. Among them were Aurors, ordinary employees, shop owners in Diagon Alley, and housewives.

"Bang, bang, bang!" Suddenly, a series of heavy knocking sounds echoed throughout the hall.

Everyone's attention was immediately drawn to the front. Amelia Bones stood there, and her presence instantly made the atmosphere in the room serious.

Since Dumbledore was dismissed by the Wizengamot, Amelia, as Minister of Magic, had to take on the position of Chief Magician. This was not her original intention, but for the sake of peace and stability in the wizarding world, she had to endure it all.

Just last year, she presided over the trial of Barty Crouch Sr., stripping him of all his honors and sentencing him to life in prison.

Now, the Christmas holiday is not over yet, and she is standing here again, ready to question Roger.

The wizards of the Wizengamot quickly quieted down their whispered conversations. Amelia put on her serious square glasses and began to look through the report file in her hand.

In the silent circular room, there was only the slight sound of shuffling papers. Everyone's eyes were focused on the wooden chair in the center of the circle, where sat the person waiting to be questioned, Roger Travis.

Roger sat in the interrogation chair with a calm expression. Compared to the packed trial after he left Azkaban, the current scene was indeed a piece of cake for him.

He turned to look at his mother Jessica, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, revealing a smile, telling her not to worry.

He already had an idea about this questioning: don't tell lies, and don't tell the whole truth.

Amelia stared intently at the document in her hand, her voice solemn and formulaic: "[Inquiry], the mistakes made by Roger Travis in the Elk Mission..."

"Objection, ma'am." Roger suddenly spoke, his voice clear and firm.

His fingers tapped lightly on the wide armrest of the chair, like a small gavel of judgment, and his tone was even more challenging. The entire hall fell into a brief silence due to this sudden interruption.

Amelia slowly raised her head, her face showing no annoyance at being interrupted, but instead a hint of curiosity.

She took off her glasses, looked directly at Roger, and said in a professional and calm voice: "What is your objection?"

"Two." Roger straightened his back and raised two fingers. "First, what is the Elk Mission? Second, before a vote, the behavior is just behavior, but it cannot be defined as a mistake."

"This is the Wizengamot, the sacred seat of law. Ladies and gentlemen who are eligible to vote, you will decide how justice will be done every time."

As soon as he finished speaking, the whole hall suddenly murmured. Some were surprised at Rogge's courage, some were interested in his arguments, and some were dissatisfied with this interruption of the proceedings.

Rogge could feel the eyes of the people around him focused on him, and then he said: "I am not disrupting the court, but stating an objective fact: do not replace the legal perspective with your moral self."

"Before the results of the inquiry came out, my behavior was only judged as good or evil on a moral level, and was not subject to legal review. Moreover, it was precisely because my behavior was controversial that this midnight inquiry took place."

This remark caused even more commotion in the hall. Some wizards began to talk in low voices, some nodded in agreement, some frowned in thought, and some looked a little uneasy.

(End of this chapter)