"There's no conflict between manners and eating quickly." Jessica sat opposite Roger, her knife and fork moving with calm precision. In the blink of an eye, she cut a piece of roast meat into neat little portions, and the entire process was so quick and elegant that Roger could only stare in admiration.
"Mum… how can you do that?" Roger was stunned. He had never expected Jessica to have such a practical trick hidden up her sleeve.
"When I was a child, I often spent holidays in France, and I never had enough to eat there." Jessica's expression remained perfectly calm as she continued cutting. "Later, I had no choice but to think of a way to eat quickly without looking rude."
"Oh, we have relatives in France?" Roger asked, immediately catching the more interesting part.
"I suppose so." Jessica did not say much more. She simply had Bubble bring out the side dishes and desserts, clearly not intending to explain the family's French connections in detail.
After drinking a large bowl of onion cream soup, Roger felt warmth spread through his entire body. Then he began to feast, and the juicy roast chicken and beef immediately restored some strength to his weakened body.
The dessert afterward was the perfect finishing touch. The sweet and tart apple pie brought Roger immense satisfaction, and when he finished the last spoonful of cream pudding, he felt as though he had fully recovered.
"Burp…" Roger leaned back, unable to stop himself from making the sound.
"Are you full?" Jessica looked at the completely emptied table in disbelief. That had been enough food for three adults, and all of it had disappeared into her son's stomach.
"About eighty percent." Roger drank his apple juice, and a warm comfort rose in his stomach. He looked innocent, as though the amount of food he had eaten was perfectly normal.
"I'm worried about what will happen when you get to Hogwarts." Jessica's concern deepened. Sleeping through class was one thing, but not eating enough could affect his physical development.
"Ah… does the school not feed students enough?" Roger suddenly became alert. To him, this was now a serious survival issue.
"Normally, yes, but son, do you think an ordinary young wizard can eat this much?" Jessica shook her head and finally told him a secret she knew from her school days. "The kitchens are directly beneath the Great Hall, and the entrance is near the Hufflepuff common room. If you get hungry in the middle of the night, you can go there."
"I truly hope you're Sorted into Hufflepuff like I was." Jessica smiled slightly, then seemed ready to explain more. "Of course, we'll have to see what the Sorting Hat decides."
She waited for her son to ask what the Sorting Hat was. Instead, Roger had already picked up Diana and gone off to play, leaving Jessica with the quiet frustration of a mother whose carefully prepared explanation had been ignored.
The days that followed gradually became more relaxed. When Roger was awake, he previewed his textbooks, and whenever hunger hit, he filled his growing appetite with Bubble's excellent meals.
That peace lasted until August twenty-seventh, when Andrew called from the City of London asking for help. His voice on the telephone was low and urgent, and heavy knocking could be heard through the receiver.
"Mr. Roger, please come and save me. I'm being cornered." Andrew sounded as if he were trying not to panic. "They're outside the door."
"Tell me your location," Roger said at once.
"St Mary Axe, London Financial Centre Building, thirty-second floor, office 01D. Roger, hurry…" Andrew's words broke off under another violent bang against the door.
Since the situation was urgent, there was no point discussing it over the telephone. Roger hung up immediately and shouted, "Bubble, get the car ready."
He could have had Bubble Apparate him directly to the City, but doing so might alert the Ministry of Magic and even expose Thompson's attempt to borrow Ministry Galleons. Roger preferred to solve the problem in a Muggle way if possible.
"What's wrong?" Jessica noticed her son's frown and brought him his coat. Her expression tightened immediately, because she knew that look meant trouble.
"Andrew is being targeted," Roger said while putting on his coat.
"By wizards?" Jessica asked.
"Muggles. I don't know exactly what kind yet." Roger shook his head and reached for the suit he had ordered from Naples.
"Take your wand." Jessica's voice left no room for argument.
"Don't worry, Mum." Roger nodded, dressed quickly, and walked out in a tailored suit far too formal for an eleven-year-old.
A Maybach 500 SEL waited at the entrance, equipped with a V8 engine, a four-speed automatic transmission, and acceleration from zero to sixty in under seven seconds. Roger climbed in and immediately ordered, "Go to the Financial Building."
"Yes, little master. Please sit tight." Bubble sat suspended in mid-air, using magic to control the steering wheel, brake, and accelerator with absurd seriousness.
"Start simulation," Roger murmured as the car pulled away.
The panel unfolded in his mind. In the first result, he rushed to the Financial Building, only for the Muggles who had cornered Andrew to throw him out. In the second, he waved his wand and cast Obliviate on them. In the third, the Ministry detected the magical fluctuations, senior Aurors arrived at the scene, and he was taken back to the Ministry for questioning. In the fourth, Downing Street became highly dissatisfied with wizards interfering in the Muggle financial market, and the Ministry launched an investigation before the simulation abruptly stopped because of insufficient magic.
"What?" Roger exclaimed, staring at the panel. He clearly still had three point three points of magic left, so how could it suddenly be insufficient?
He rubbed his temples as a bad premonition rose in his heart. The first two simulations had consumed one point in total, which meant the fifth branch might require four points on its own.
"Damn it." Roger glared at the panel. It turned out the simulation function consumed magic exponentially.
The cost exploded the moment he looked one step further. Even if he somehow captured Merlin himself, he still could not explore the endless branches of fate without limit.
Only now did Roger truly realise how terrifying the price of touching fate's path was. Each additional step forward carried an unpredictable cost, and curiosity itself could become a luxury.
Just as he sighed, the car stopped smoothly in front of the financial building. The security guard saw the Mercedes below the steps and quickly opened the glass door.
When the guard noticed the little boy stepping out, surprise flashed across his face. Roger was only eleven, and in the Muggle world, he might not even have finished primary school.
The doorman wanted to ask where his parents were. But when he saw the confidence and composure on Roger's young face, the words stopped in his throat.
Roger was naturally aware of the problem caused by his age, so he turned and ordered Bubble to fetch Thompson. Since Thompson wanted a share of the profits, he could not simply sit back and watch.
"Take me to the thirty-second floor," Roger said as he walked inside.
"Child, this is my workplace." The doorman finally tried to stop him, though his tone was hesitant.
Roger felt his pockets, intending to throw a stack of pound notes at him. Unfortunately, his pockets were empty, because no respectable person stuffed cash into the pockets of a bespoke suit.
"You have no idea what you just missed." Roger scoffed and did not bother arguing with the doorman.
He stepped into the lift and stood on tiptoe, barely managing to reach the buttons. If there had not been other people inside, he would have used his wand without hesitation.
"Little friend, which floor are you going to? Are you looking for your mum or dad?" A woman in black stockings crouched slightly and asked him with a smile, clearly charmed by his appearance.
"Thirty-second floor, thank you." Roger answered politely.
"You're welcome." The woman pressed the button for him, then looked at him with open curiosity. She could not help wondering which important person this unusually composed child belonged to.
Ding.
When the lift doors opened, dozens of people were packed into the corridor. Several burly men were slamming against a door, and as they moved, the pistols at their waists were briefly exposed.
"Andrew, open the door!" one of them shouted, his fist hammering against the wood again.
"Don't even think about it, you bloodsucking animals. My deal is legal." Andrew's furious voice came from behind the door, echoing down the corridor. "Damn Rothschilds, damn Morgans, a pack of sore losers."
Inside the office, Andrew paced anxiously back and forth. The four bodyguards he had hired were bracing themselves against the door, desperately preventing anyone from forcing their way in.
"If it's legal, why not come out and talk?" a voice outside called.
"Talk? Is this your attitude toward talking?" Andrew shouted back. "HMRC, the City of London Police, MI5, the NCA, and Interpol. Do you think I'm stupid?"
"You just want to arrest me and force me to hand over the money. Don't even dream of it." Andrew's voice cracked with anger, but there was still fear beneath it.
"Boss, why didn't you mention Interpol earlier?" one of the bodyguards at the door suddenly asked. He had clearly begun questioning whether finance was also considered a high-risk profession.
"This has nothing to do with you. Hold the line," Andrew snapped.
"But we can't hold much longer." The bald bodyguard wiped his sweat, panting heavily.
.....
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