A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

"The animals in the book are all like the Scimitar-Horned Snorklein." Roger lazily leaned back in his chair, with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

He raised his hand, tapped his temple with his slender fingers, and added softly: "They are all fairy tales."

"They are real, right?" Luna's eyes shone with innocence, and she read impatiently.

"I mean..." Roger slowly bit a piece of biscuit and cruelly pierced her fantasy: "Fairy tales are fake, and the records in the book are also fake."

Luna's face flashed a trace of confusion, but soon regained her firmness: "But Dad told me that the Scimitar-Horned Snorklein really exists. He never lies."

"Then he must have a poet-like quality, who can describe a cloud as a crying lion." Roger's tone was full of envy. Such a father can indeed cultivate a free Luna.

Luna tilted her head slightly, as if she was sketching the appearance of the cloud in her mind. There was a hint of sadness in her tone, as if she had really seen the sad lion: "It must be very sad, and it's about to cry."

"In this season, it will only snow, not rain." Roger muttered rationally, and then said: "I'm not denying your idea. I just want to tell you that your father likes to describe feelings, while I prefer to state facts."

Luna refused to give up easily. She took out a crumpled newspaper clipping from her pocket, with a gleam of victory in her eyes: "But my father found the horn of the Scimitar-Horned Snorlax. Look, it's written here!"

"If the sales of "The Quibbler" are better, I can buy it back this year. Then, I can see it with my own eyes! Don't worry, I will definitely show it to you."

"Thank you, little witch." Roger teased her half-jokingly, "If the Scimitar-Horned Snorlax really exists, I believe that everything in this book is true, including the White River Monster."

"It is true." Luna was not affected by his ridicule at all. Instead, she straightened her back, her eyes were firm as if she was defending a sacred truth.

At this moment, she was like the editor-in-chief of The Quibbler, with great confidence in things that went against common sense.

Roger smiled and did not continue to argue with her. This endless debate would only make both parties more angry.

Since Luna took the Divination class in her third year, she has become more and more like a witch in Trelawney's teaching.

Compared with other students' fabricated and perfunctory homework, Luna's homework and class answers always received high praise from Trelawney.

It must be said that the two of them do have some similar qualities: rich imagination and curiosity, and a natural mysterious temperament.

"This book is for you."

"Really!" Luna's eyes lit up instantly, like two bright stars lit up.

She excitedly hugged "Cryptozoology" into her arms and said excitedly: "Then I will definitely give you the horn of the Scimitar-Horned Snorkle as a return gift."

"No!" Roger quickly refused, "Don't do this."

Seeing Luna's puzzled eyes, he had to explain: "I mean, we can't delay your research on the Scimitar-Horned Snorkle. It is a creature that has never been discovered. It is very precious and should be left in the hands of professionals."

He glanced at the clipping again. Although the photo was blurry, he still captured some key details. The so-called Scimitar-Horned Snorkle's horn is most likely from the Venomhorn. And it is a magical material that can explode, and it is not recommended to save it.

"Or give me some hair of the Night Thestrals." Rejecting Luna's sudden whim, he returned to the clue that Ollivander said: the White River Monster.

"Could it be..." A flash of inspiration suddenly appeared in Roger's mind. He quickly grabbed the quill and scribbled on the parchment: White River Monster.

This is the specific name of the White River Monster. To some extent, it is more unique than a person's name, and there is no risk of duplication or misuse.

A bold but reasonable idea gradually took shape in his mind.

"If these words are broken down into individual letters and then reassembled!" As this idea continued to ferment in his mind, Roger became more and more convinced that he had touched the edge of the truth.

Voldemort once played a similar trick, rearranging his full name Tom Marvolo Riddle to form the phrase I am Voldemort.

He suspected that Tiago might have played the same trick back then: cleverly incorporating the key information of the wand core into the name of the White River Monster.

Roger had a new suspicion in his mind: it is possible... He made up the story of the river monster, and then spread this fictional creature all over the world with the help of Muggle rumors and the travels of other wizards.

"Tiago, what was the original phrase?" He touched his chin, his eyes fixed on the 17 letters on the paper, "A simple letter reorganization game."

His eyes wandered between the letters, and his brain was working fast. Suddenly, a word popped into his mind: Rose.

Roger grabbed the rose as if he had found the end of a Gordian knot. The remaining letters seemed to have life and quickly took their proper positions.

"Rose in the river...wmt..." Roger whispered, each syllable trembling with excitement.

"Rose in the river." Roger whispered softly, staring at the last three extra letters.

This is his optimal solution without adding letters or creating new words and complying with language habits. At the same time, it was also his first reaction.

"Using roses to make a wand core?" He bit the end of the quill and leaned back unconsciously.

The front legs of the chair quickly lifted off the ground, and the whole person began to rock rhythmically as if lying in a rocking chair.

"The Quintus family lacks the technology to capture river monsters and use the river monster's spine. In other words, if Mr. Ollivander did not lie to me, then there should be materials and production methods here."

Rogge narrowed his eyes slightly, stared at the last three letters, and guessed in a low voice: "They may be abbreviations of certain words. Just like OWLs, which stands for Ordinary Wizarding Level Examination."

W.M.T... He picked up the quill and re-wrote the three letters on the parchment. Then he drew a big circle around it and marked an eye-catching question mark next to it.

"Maybe it's time to think from a different angle." He pondered for a moment and looked up at the little goddess sitting opposite, who was thinking more out of the box.

"Luna, what does this letter remind you of?" He wet his fingers with beer and wrote the first letter W on the table.

"M, mint."

"This is W..."

"But looking from my direction, it's M." Luna shook her head and wrote the same letter with her fingers.

Since the two of them were sitting opposite each other, the letters they wrote were rotated 180 degrees in the other's eyes. At this time, there are two W or two M on the desktop.

"Transformation..." Rogge muttered, guessing that the word T represented meant some kind of transformation.

He also wanted to hear more of Luna's thoughts: "Didn't you think of anything else besides mint?"

"Yes." Luna closed the book and started to list with her fingers: "Mars, mirror, mongoose, manatee..."

Rogge covered his forehead helplessly and sighed deeply. He regretted it, really regretted it. Although I had known that Luna's thinking was very out-of-the-box and completely unconstrained by convention. But he didn't expect that Luna could talk about so many things that had nothing to do with magic.

"Magic!" Rogge suddenly shouted, slapping his thigh in excitement: "Luna, you are such a genius! How could I forget the simplest magic?"

Luna tilted her head and looked at Rogge slightly confused, but her eyes shone with pleasure. Although she didn't know why, she was happy to help Roger.

Rogge's thinking was like a dam releasing water, and inspiration surged out, gushing: "If M stands for magic and self, W stands for wand and witchcraft, and T stands for the connection and transformation between the two. Then, everything can be said It’s OK.”

He excitedly grabbed a new piece of parchment, his eyes sparkling with creativity.

Rogge began to write, trying to merge these two seemingly opposite letters together.

He first drew a slightly larger M, using its two vertical sides to form the frame of the entire pattern.

"Look, Luna." Rogge explained while drawing, "This M represents all-encompassing magic and is the basis of everything."

Then, he cleverly suspended a disconnected V along the two diagonal lines of the M. "In this way, the W representing the wand is wrapped in magic." Rogge's voice trembled slightly with excitement.

Finally, he transformed the T into a shape that resembled a rose and a wand, and inserted it into the middle of the frame: at the break of the V.

Luna looked closely at the strange symbol and softly described her feelings: "A rose of fire blooming from magic."

"Yes, conversion means energy, whether in potions or alchemy, it can be represented by flames." Rogge nodded and wiped away the delicate rose petals, "It should be a fire, but it is also From the river."

The quill in his hand was flying on the parchment, constantly designing and modifying, so that the entire pattern had both the energy of fire and the calmness of a rose in the river. The two merge into one, achieving balance at the fulcrum of the rose.

"The fire rose in the water, this may be the secret of the core of Tiago's staff." As he whispered, the entire draft was covered with cold blue and warm red. A flaming rose shaped like a wand is waiting to bloom on the paper, as if it will bloom with amazing magic at any time.

"Elegance and power." Rogge took a step back, admired his work, and nodded with satisfaction.

Compared with the riddle-like alphabet game, this pattern with bright colors and strong contrast gives people a strong visual impact. It is simple yet profound, and can be firmly engraved in your mind with just one glance.

He then took Thiago's notes brought back from San Francisco and tried to find relevant information in them for cross-verification.

"Master or slave? This is a question worth thinking about." Rogge chuckled, thinking: The first sentence of Thiago's note is quite pretentious.

However, the second sentence revealed his true face, "Or like the unopened dice cup, I know that the dealer may cheat, and he also knows that I may know that he may cheat. But, we are all betting."

Rogge raised his eyebrows and praised his matryoshka-like narration. It can be seen that this guy likes playing cards very much, and he doesn't deserve to die at the card table in the end.

However, the next content made Rogge dumbfounded: "Damn it, I lost another 300 Galleons to that goblin today. It must have cheated..."

What followed was a string of expletives such as son of the beach, which filled half a page. It was like Thiago pouring out the feces in his stomach, and it smelled terrible.

Roger resisted the urge to tear up the notebook and turned to the second page with difficulty, hoping that Tiago would stop spamming.

"The wand is much better than the dealer at the card table. It is more like a prostitute in a tavern, wearing an open skirt and deliberately swinging the white flesh in front of you." Tiago's words continued in his vulgar style, "They are all eager for you to put your hand in, and it is best to leave a tip for the night."

"Heidi, the Muggle woman possessed by the devil, squeezed my last gold coin last night. Damn it, she didn't even accept Sickle and Nat, calling them worthless bottle caps. Ha, stupid woman, she still longs for love."

"I am a wanderer, I am destined to not be able to take her away with me. Besides, how can I fall in love with a Muggle? ? ? Alas, I have to make money to make a living. I hate this continent..."

"As for the deeper connection between the wand and the prostitute, you will never know how big her belly is or how flat her butt is until you lift up her huge crinoline and untie her tight corset."

"The prostitute in the Fire Snake Tavern is proof of this..."

Rogge couldn't help but let out a long sigh, his expression was both headache and helpless, as if he had just swallowed a particularly unpalatable potion.

Luna noticed his abnormality and couldn't help but lean over to find out: "Rogge, what are you looking at? It looks very interesting."

"Not suitable for children." Rogge muttered and pushed her head back.

"Tsk, you are not much older than me." Luna moved her chair and tried to glance at him.

"Little witch, it's rare that you would argue with others. When you are as old as me, I will lend it to you." Rogge said casually, and Luna really believed it, "Then let's make a deal. You have to lend it to me this time next year."

Rogge didn't respond, and laughed in his heart: How could you be as old as me? This time next year, you are still younger than me.

He quickly skipped the paragraphs about Tiago gambling, prostitution, and dueling with other wizards.

As he read deeper, Rogge gradually realized that Tiago was a complete bastard. He killed a wizard from a family in Europe and had to flee to the New World.

Although he was good at playing cards, he was extremely shameless. But his luck seemed to be really bad. He lost nine out of ten times at the card table, and sometimes he couldn't even pay for prostitution. So later he mixed into the Muggle society and did some murders, arson, highway robbery, and wine smuggling.

"Hey, I found a good business, using magic to cheat at the poker table." Tiago talked freely, the joy in his heart was like letters jumping randomly, uncontrollable, "Muggles are all idiots, they can't find my tricks at all. Moreover, they are richer than me, which is unforgivable!"

Rogge shook his head, this gambler is really hopeless. But, where is the magic wand?

"Today, I met a Squib from Rome. An arrogant guy who wanted to beat me at the poker table. His confidence was an illusion!"

"Okay, I admit that the lucky bitch is on his side, but so what! This Squib not only lost his suitcase, the worn felt hat, his coat and boots, but even his family's secret wand-making manual became mine."

Seeing this, Rogge's originally bored expression finally showed some spirit, and he complained in his heart: "The drama is finally here."

"I should take off his pants, the damn Squib, he actually deceived a great wizard, Tiago Quitas! He also cursed me to die at the poker table. This humiliation must not be forgiven!"

A trace of complex emotions flashed in Rogge's eyes. Tiago, the black wizard, really died violently at the poker table in the end. He hurriedly turned to the next page, wanting to know the story afterwards.