Harry Potter: Eternity Wizard

1991, London.

"Mr. Roger Virgil, your trial is about to begin. Come with us."

The lead wizarding prison guard spoke in a cold, rigid tone, his words filled with official formality. However, the slight tremor in his pupils betrayed his unease.

...So the day has finally come.

Roger knew this was the turning point in his fate. His heart was far from calm, but he still stood up from his bed and walked steadily toward the cell door.

Whether it was hope or despair waiting for him, all he could do was face it head-on.

Any irrational actions would only make his situation worse.

Four wizard guards surrounded Roger, one in each direction. He was just an 11-year-old child who hadn't even set foot in Hogwarts, yet they escorted him as if they were transporting a dangerous Death Eater to Azkaban.

Looking at the wizards around him, Roger Virgil couldn't help but recall the past six months of his life.

He used to be just an ordinary person from a peaceful country under a red flag.

But fate played a cruel joke on him. A sudden accident took his life. When he opened his eyes again, he had become a 10-year-old boy.

If that were all, it wouldn't have been too bad. Though he now had blond hair and blue eyes, being reborn and getting a second chance at life was, overall, a great blessing.

Returning from the 21st century to 1990 gave him an opportunity—to bet on the World Cup upsets, invest in Bitcoin, short the British pound, plan ahead in real estate, and buy into future tech and gaming giants. He could rise to the top and become unimaginably wealthy.

But before he could reach that peak, there was one little problem.

His reincarnation location was all wrong.

Looking at his parents lying in a pool of blood, Roger touched his left arm—it was wet. But it wasn't water. It was blood.

He sifted through the memories of this body's original owner, recalling the moments before his death, and confirmed his situation.

He was British, but not in Britain.

In this life, Roger was born into a well-off English family. His father was an engineer, and his mother came from a small business-owning family. After marrying, his father helped manage his mother's portion of the family business.

His mother was in the foreign trade industry. When she took over, the couple worked overseas together. Wanting Roger to grow up with both parents around, they brought him along.

Then—

War broke out.

Logically, even if war erupted, his parents wouldn't have been too worried. After all, they lived in the capital. If things got bad, they could leave in time.

And more importantly—they were British!

While the world preached equality, the reality was different. Citizens of the five permanent UN Security Council members had privileges beyond those of the Third World.

Even as commoners, they were still more "equal" than others.

But fate was crueler than they expected.

The country they lived in was called Kuwait.

The year was 1990.

Everything happened too fast. No one saw it coming.

August 2, 1990, 1:00 AM.

With air force, navy, amphibious, and special operations units providing support, three divisions of the Iraqi Republican Guard crossed the Kuwaiti border in a surprise attack.

By the end of the day, they had taken Kuwait City.

The assault continued, with reinforcements flooding in. Iraq fully occupied Kuwait with 200,000 troops and over 2,000 tanks.

Kuwait was wiped off the map in record time.

Iraq declared it their "19th province."

Roger's family—himself included—died in the chaos.

And that was how he, Roger Virgil, found himself reborn.

Once he understood his situation, he had to figure out one thing—how could a 10-year-old survive the Gulf War, an event that would reshape global politics?

Roger had no desire to become one of the 500,000 children who, according to UNICEF, perished due to the war and its aftermath.

His overwhelming will to survive pushed him into action.

After multiple brushes with death, he finally found his way through the chaos—

.

.

.

"Impersonating a religious prophet," the young wizard with short, golden-blond hair continued reading Roger's charges after a brief pause.

"Demonstrating and promoting magic in front of Muggles. Using magic on Muggles. Indirectly causing Muggle deaths through magic. Involvement in Muggle warfare... Any one of these, when put on the scale, is a heavy crime."

"Will I die?"

Roger sat in his holding cell, staring at the man who claimed to be his lawyer.

He had no way of hiring a wizard familiar with magical law—this lawyer had been "assigned" to him.

"Most likely not," the lawyer said. "Your charges are severe, but they're also highly controversial. Even under normal circumstances, sentencing an 11-year-old to death would stir up a major outcry."

"And right now, it's even less likely."

"Why?" Roger asked, puzzled.

"It has to do with the Minister of Magic. Cornelius Fudge only took office last year, and he's still unstable in his position. For any major decision, he consults Dumbledore to borrow his influence.

"Your case will be judged by the Wizengamot, but because it involves the American Magical Congress and Middle Eastern wizarding factions, Fudge will definitely seek Dumbledore's advice. And knowing Dumbledore, there's no way he would suggest a death sentence."

"With that in mind, the Ministry—the prosecution in this case—won't push too hard against you."

The Wizengamot, which predated the Ministry itself, functioned as both a judiciary and legislative body. If the Ministry was where pure-blood family influence was strongest, then the Wizengamot was where powerful wizards held sway.

Of course, some had influence in both.

"Then…"

Roger was about to ask something when his lawyer shook his head.

"Don't celebrate too soon."

"You might avoid death, but your fate could be worse."

Roger understood the implication. "...Azkaban?"

Azkaban—the most feared wizarding prison in Britain.

Prisoners there were tormented by Dementors, forced to relive their worst memories while being drained of happiness. Those with weak wills went insane within months. Even if they were released, they were no better than the dead.

Azkaban's terror deterred many criminals. But some—who did not deserve such a fate—were still sent there.

Roger had been held in a lesser facility, a detention center for minor offenders.

"Most likely, yes," the lawyer admitted.

"Is there any chance of a reduced sentence?" Roger asked seriously. "Not an acquittal—just a lighter charge, so I can stay in a detention center instead."

The lawyer let out a helpless sigh. "Not likely. Your crimes are too severe."

"Unless…"

Roger didn't press. He simply waited for the lawyer to continue.

"Unless Dumbledore himself steps in to vouch for you. But that's nearly impossible."

In wizarding legal circles, there was a saying: "A trial's outcome is determined outside the courtroom."

The Ministry might seem like the ultimate authority, but real power lay with the ancient pure-blood families and legendary wizards like Dumbledore, Newt Scamander, and Nicolas Flamel.

If Dumbledore supported Roger, everything would change.

Strong wizards were the true kings of the wizarding world.

Even the law had to respect them.

But the lawyer doubted it.

Because of one charge.

"The large-scale indirect killing of Muggles using magic."

Roger had done it for survival.

It was self-defense.

But the problem was—

"I killed too many people," Roger murmured.

In just six months of war, he had personally killed nearly a hundred people.

And the number who died because of him indirectly…

The lawyer, recalling the numbers in Roger's file, shuddered.

How many people had the average Death Eater in Azkaban killed?

Did they even reach a tenth of this kid's body count?!