A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

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

Rogge took it from Beibei, and in an instant, 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 all over his skin were receding at a speed visible to the naked eye. He felt a sense of relief and whispered softly: "Thank you, little guy."

"Hu..." Rogge took a long breath 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 sunshine, wave after wave, struggling to ripple the lake surface. Rogge squinted his eyes and felt that he was nestled in a cool air-conditioned room in summer.

It was 46.2 degrees outside and 16 inside. Wrapped in a soft quilt, he lay comfortably on the cool rattan mat, burying his head deeply in the fluffy pillow.

On the small table next to him, there was half an iced watermelon and a glass of iced cola with a hint of coolness. The cup was full of water vapor, and each drop was crystal clear and full... everything was so beautiful.

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

In the hazy light, Roger's sight was attracted by a ball of leaping flames. The flame was like a golden snitch, flying quickly in the air. It was as agile and graceful as an elf, and elusive.

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

The second time, the third time... Every time, the flame always escaped nimbly at the last moment. Rogge watched it show off in front of him and couldn't help laughing.

"Okay, okay." He gave up his doomed efforts helplessly, "You win, I can't catch you."

The flame seemed to see through his mind and became bolder. It flickered in front of Rogge's eyes and nose, as if provoking: "Come on, play for a while."

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

Who knew that the little flame was anxious, it eagerly floated in front of Rogge and blocked his way out. The flame kept flapping, as if to say something to him.

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

The pure white dream world shattered like a mirror under the impact of the flame, 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 couldn't penetrate them. Quietly, the snow fell slowly, slowly covering the lake with a thin layer of ice.

Rogge's black hair and soft beard also turned white, and his nostrils flared slightly, blowing away the itch brought by the snowflakes in his sleep.

"Ah... A-choo..." A loud sneeze was like the roar of a giant dragon, and the fire in the fireplace shook three times.

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

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

"A-choo..." Another violent sneeze, and snot flew 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 finished speaking, he sneezed again.

On the table next to him, the used tissues were crumpled into a ball. They were stacked layer by layer, forming a small white pyramid. If someone who didn't know saw it, they might mistake it for some kind of personal activity.

In desperation, Roger had to twist the tissue into strips and stuff it into his nostrils, which looked funny and pitiful.

"Why don't you pull me up?" He said in a muffled voice, and had 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 going to freeze to death."

Beibei didn't bother to explain, and disappeared in the blink of an eye and jumped into the cloakroom upstairs.

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

"Okay, I just complained 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.

"You have to burn the fireplace a little hotter." Rogge 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 fell asleep in a blanket with the phoenix egg in his arms. The firelight danced on his pale face, reflecting a blush.

I don't know how long it took, a familiar voice penetrated his dream: "Rogge? Rogge?!"

Rogge opened his eyes in a daze, and his vision slowly focused. It was dark outside the window, but there was a group of people standing by the sofa, with different expressions on their faces, some worried and some playful.

"Are you catching a cold?" Jessica held him in her arms distressedly, looking at her son's haggard appearance, and kissed his forehead gently, "Mom will take you to St. Mungo's Magic Hospital."

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

Jessica turned her head sharply, a dangerous light flashing in her eyes. "Don't give me any summons or any Wizengamot!"

Like an angry lioness, she glared at the Ministry of Magic staff in front of her, "Didn't you see that my son is sick? Get out of here!" she roared angrily.

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

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

He subconsciously tightened the dragon skin blanket around him and asked with some confusion: "Is the Wizengamot working? It's still holiday now."

The Ministry of Magic employee coughed and looked relieved, as if he was happy that the topic was back on track: "Well, Roger, there are no holidays in the Wizengamot."

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

"Huh?? In other words, today is the last day of vacation!" Rogge 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 finished speaking, his stomach suddenly made a loud purring sound, as if in protest.

When Jessica heard this voice, she became even more worried. She said anxiously and angrily: "Don't worry about sleeping for a few days. Go to the hospital with me for a physical check-up first. Then have a good meal. Even if you listen, you will know that you are hungry."

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

He breathed a sigh of relief and found that the "great achievements" he had made before had been cleaned up by Beibei. If they rushed in and saw the pile of paper balls wrapped in a sticky, unknown liquid, he would be unable to argue.

"If you don't believe it, just touch it."

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

Rogge said half-jokingly: "Maybe he's hungry."

"Ahem..." The staff sent by Wizengamot was very unpleasant. Before the mother and son could finish speaking, they forcefully interrupted the conversation: "Rogg, please come with us to the Wizengamot."

"Now?"

The Ministry of Magic staff nodded and said firmly: "Yes, now!"

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

He raised his arm and showed Jessica and Rogue the Wizengamot summons. Under the illumination of the chandelier, a beautiful scroll slowly unfolded, with elegant cursive characters written on it:

No.: WM-1996114-0001

Dear Mr. Roger Travis:

In accordance with relevant laws and regulations such as the Statute of Magical Secrecy, the Protection of Magical Creatures Act, and the Wizarding Code of Conduct, the Wizengamot has now summoned you to the Wizengamot Court to prosecute you for allegedly harming hostages during your mission. 【Question】.

Please be sure to arrive at the designated location before [2:00 on January 14th]. Failure to do so will be deemed as giving up the right to plead, and the Wizengamot has the right to punish you accordingly in accordance with the law.

Rogge's eyes fell on the bright red Wizengamot seal at the bottom of the scroll. The crimson color seemed to be mocking his situation.

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

The other party seemed not to notice the irony in Rogge's words, or selectively ignored it. He just answered businesslikely: "The Wizengamot has been working to maintain justice and order in the magical world. Time is not important, what is important is justice."

As soon as he finished speaking, his companion murmured in a low voice: "Isn't it because the International Magical Federation and the Magical Congress of the United States want to jointly investigate this matter? The minister didn't resist the pressure."

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

"Huh, it sounds like a secret, dirty political maneuvering and deal." Rogge raised his eyebrows, his tone revealing disdain, "The people coming to Wizengamot are not good-natured."

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

Rogge interrupted him unceremoniously, with sharp eyes: "Interrogation at two o'clock in the morning? I think it is a secret trial."

When Jessica heard this, maternal protectiveness surged like a tide. She didn't care what the Wizengamot had planned, she only cared about her son's safety.

She decisively took Roger's hand and walked towards the fireplace, her voice firm and threatening: "If you're overdue, you're overdue. If you have the ability, ask Amelia to send Aurors to catch 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 razor blades, and looked directly at the Ministry of Magic employees.

The other party looked at each other and quickly shouted: "Mrs. Jessica..." The voice was obviously panicked.

"Mom, I'm fine." Rogge gently grabbed Jessica, who was already taking steps, and shook his head slightly.

He said softly: "I'm not afraid of the shadows. I'll go there whenever I can. Anyway, the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's are both in London, so I'll just go for a walk."

Jessica tried to persuade her several times, but she could not overcome her son's persistence. In the end, she nodded helplessly, but the worry in her eyes did not diminish at all.

However, she stared at the staff of the Ministry of Magic, and her tone was cold and threatening: "The Ministry of Magic can never expect to receive a Knut donation from the Travis family this year."

The wizards in front of them opened their mouths in embarrassment, each of them looking 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 dressed in purple-red robes with a delicate silver "W" embroidered on the left chest, and each of them had serious and solemn expressions.

To their left sat a representative from the Magical Congress of the United States of America. They wore unique badges on their chests, looked attentive, and talked in low voices from time to time.

On the right were important people in the British wizarding world. Rogge glanced over and saw some familiar faces: Principal Dumbledore, Lucius, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, Sirius...

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

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

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

Behind him, there were some scattered wizards sitting. Most of them were yawning, and it looked like they had just been taken out of their warm beds. Among them were Aurors and ordinary employees, as well as shop owners and housewives in Diagon Alley.

"Dong dong dong!" Suddenly, a heavy knocking sound echoed throughout the hall.

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

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

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

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

The wizards of the Wizengamot quickly fell silent from their hushed conversations. Amelia put on her serious square glasses and began to flip through the report file in her hand.

In the silent circular room, there was only the slight sound of paper turning. All eyes were focused on the wooden chair in the center of the circle, where the person waiting to be questioned, Roger Travis, sat.

Rogge sat on the interrogation chair, looking calm. 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, and raised the corners of his mouth slightly with a smile, telling her not to worry.

Regarding this inquiry, he already had an idea: Don't tell lies and tell not the whole truth.

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

"Objection, madam." Rogge suddenly spoke, his voice clear and firm.

His fingers tapped lightly on the large armrest of the seat, like a small judgment hammer, with a hint of challenge in his tone. 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 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." Rogge straightened his back and raised two fingers. "First, what is the elk mission? Second, before voting, behavior is just behavior, but it cannot be defined as a mistake."

"This is the Wizengamot, the sacred place of law. Gentlemen and ladies who are eligible to vote, you will determine the geometry of justice every time."

As soon as he finished speaking, there was a murmur of discussion throughout the hall. Some were surprised by Rogge's boldness, some were interested in his arguments, and some were dissatisfied with this interruption of proceedings.

Rogge could feel the eyes of the people around him focused on him, and continued: "I am not rushing to the court, but telling an objective fact: Don't replace the legal perspective with your moral self."

"Before the results of the inquiry come out, my own behavior only has a moral judgment of good and evil, and has not been subject to legal review. What's more, it is precisely because my behavior is controversial that this midnight inquiry was held."

These words caused even greater commotion in the hall. Some wizards began to chat in low voices, some nodded in agreement, some frowned in thought, and some looked a little uneasy.