Chapter 1: 11 Years Old, a Wizard War Criminal
1991, London.
"Mr. Roger Virgil, your trial is about to start. Let's go."
The lead prison guard wizard's tone was cold and firm, though the faint tremble in his eyes betrayed his unease. He was trying to maintain a façade of calm, but the truth was evident—escorting an accused like Roger wasn't a routine task.
Roger took a deep breath. So, the day has come.
He rose from his cot and steadied himself, walking toward the heavy iron door. Whether the future held hope or despair, all he could do now was face it. Reckless actions would only make his situation worse.
Four guards flanked him, one at each corner, as if escorting a dangerous convict to Azkaban. It was an overwhelming level of security for an 11-year-old boy who hadn't even attended Hogwarts yet.
Roger's gaze wandered to the guards as he reflected on the past six months. He hadn't always been here. He wasn't even from this world.
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Roger Virgil was once an ordinary man from a peaceful nation in the 21st century. An accident had changed everything. When he closed his eyes, he was a grown man. When he opened them again, he was a 10-year-old boy in 1990.
At first, he thought it was a blessing—a second chance at life. He had dreams of using his knowledge of the future to become rich and powerful. The 1990s promised opportunities: the World Cup, Bitcoin, early investments in tech companies. He imagined himself climbing to the pinnacle of success.
But fate had other plans.
He was reborn into a wealthy British family living in Kuwait. His father was an engineer, his mother a member of a powerful merchant family. Life seemed idyllic—until the Gulf War erupted.
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On August 2, 1990, the Iraqi Republican Guard launched a sudden and devastating invasion of Kuwait. Chaos consumed the country. Roger's family, like so many others, was caught in the violence. His parents died protecting him during a riot, and Roger was left to fend for himself in a war-torn land.
It was during this time that Roger discovered something extraordinary—he was a wizard. A desperate need to survive awakened his latent magical abilities. Driven by fear and determination, he used magic to protect himself, but his actions came at a cost. Inadvertently, his magic had caused the deaths of many Muggles.
By the time the war ended, Roger was captured by the magical authorities. He was charged with grave crimes: exposing magic to Muggles, using magic to intervene in a Muggle war, and indirectly causing the deaths of innocent people.
Now, he stood trial before the Wizengamot, the British wizarding world's highest court.
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"Roger Virgil," a young wizard with blond hair began reading the charges. "You are accused of violating the International Statute of Secrecy by revealing magic to Muggles. You used magic recklessly, interfered in a Muggle conflict, and caused harm to hundreds. These are felonies."
Roger glanced at his court-appointed lawyer, a middle-aged wizard with graying hair and a weary expression.
"Will I be sentenced to death?" Roger asked quietly.
The lawyer shook his head. "Unlikely. You're only 11, and the Ministry of Magic doesn't typically sentence minors to death. However..."
Roger's heart sank. "However?"
"The alternative might be worse," the lawyer replied grimly. "Azkaban."
The mention of the dreaded wizarding prison sent a chill down Roger's spine. Azkaban was infamous for its Dementors, who fed on the happiness of prisoners, leaving them in a state of despair. Most inmates either went mad or withered away entirely.
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Roger's lawyer explained that the case was politically complicated. Cornelius Fudge, the newly appointed Minister of Magic, was eager to avoid controversy. Any significant decision would require the endorsement of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and the most respected wizard of the age.
"Dumbledore might argue against the death penalty," the lawyer said. "But don't get your hopes up. Your actions caused a lot of damage, and many on the Wizengamot will push for the harshest sentence possible."
Roger nodded grimly. He knew he was in deep trouble. During the war, his magic had inadvertently caused the deaths of nearly a hundred people. The indirect casualties were even higher.
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As the trial began, Roger sat silently, his mind racing.
Would Dumbledore speak for me? he wondered. The legendary wizard had a reputation for defending the innocent, but Roger wasn't sure he fit that category. He wasn't a monster, but his actions had consequences he couldn't undo.
The courtroom was packed with witches and wizards. The members of the Wizengamot, dressed in plum-colored robes embroidered with silver, sat in a high, circular gallery. At the center of the room was a chair with chains—Roger's seat.
The lead prosecutor stepped forward, his voice booming. "The defendant, Roger Virgil, stands accused of endangering the Statute of Secrecy and committing acts of magical recklessness that resulted in the deaths of Muggles. The evidence is clear. We demand justice!"
Roger took his seat, the chains wrapping around his arms and legs. He looked at the faces of the Wizengamot members, some cold and indifferent, others filled with curiosity.
His lawyer leaned in and whispered, "Stay calm. This isn't over yet."
Roger clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. If I survive this trial, I will never let anyone control my fate again.
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