The morning after the Dementor incident, chaos swept through the wizarding world.
Every paper stand in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade had the same headline:
"Dementors Invade Hogwarts! Ministry Negligence or Madness?"— The Daily Prophet, front page
But the loudest outrage came from Wizarding Weekly, which spared no words.
"The Ministry's inability to protect students has nearly cost The Boy Who Lived his life. Who authorized the Dementors to guard the school? Minister Fudge owes answers — or he owes his resignation."
By midmorning, Howlers were bursting open in the Ministry atrium like fireworks — furious parents shouting accusations at the walls.
"You sent soul-suckers near children!""My son barely escaped alive!""Hogwarts isn't Azkaban!"
And inside his private office, Cornelius Fudge was pacing furiously, sweat rolling down his temples.
His political advisors whispered numbers and polls. Support had plummeted.The next election was looming — and if he didn't turn the narrative fast, his career would be over.
A Desperate Idea
"We need a hero," one aide muttered. "Someone to remind the public that the Ministry cares about courage and goodness.""Yes," Fudge said slowly, his expression twisting into something sly. "A hero…"
He stopped pacing. His gaze flickered toward the newspaper on his desk — the front-page image of the violet phoenix blazing over Hogwarts.
Beneath it, the caption read:
"Roy Valvas — the Muggle-born prodigy whose Patronus drove back a hundred Dementors."
A slow smile crept across Fudge's face.
"Yes… we'll honor him. We'll make him the story. And if the boy has influence — even better. His power might just become… my shield."
Three Days Later — The Ceremony
A gilded stage was set up at the Ministry atrium, banners of emerald and gold fluttering under enchanted light. Dozens of reporters filled the space, flashes from Quick-Quotes Quills dancing like stars.
"And now," Fudge declared grandly, "for his unmatched bravery in defending Hogwarts and its students from the Dementor incursion… the Ministry of Magic bestows upon Roy Valvas the Order of Merlin, First Class!"
Applause thundered across the chamber.Even Dumbledore, standing silently at the back, allowed himself a faint, knowing smile.
Roy stepped forward — calm, collected, his violet eyes faintly reflecting the light of the enchanted torches. He bowed slightly as the golden medallion was pinned to his robe.
The photographers erupted.
Click. Flash. Flash.
And just like that, the Ministry had their headline:
"Ministry Honors Hogwarts Hero — Order of Merlin for the Phoenix Summoner."
Among the Great Minds
After the ceremony, a quiet reception was held in the adjoining hall — a gathering of the most brilliant and influential wizards in Britain.
There was Bathilda Bagshot, the legendary historian, sipping tea and eyeing Roy curiously.
"Flamel speaks very highly of you," she said. "He called you a scholar with the instincts of a knight."Roy smiled faintly. "He overestimates me. I just refuse to stop learning."
Then came Horace Slughorn, jovial and shrewd as ever, pressing a cup of mead into Roy's hand.
"A student of Nicolas Flamel, are you? My boy, you're practically walking legend already! You must come for supper sometime — I've a few promising students who'd love to meet you."
Griselda Marchbanks, the formidable examination chairwoman, adjusted her spectacles and asked questions on advanced transfiguration theory.Damocles Belby, inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, cornered Roy for a long conversation about potion catalysts and magical biochemistry.
To every question, Roy answered not just with knowledge — but with vision. He spoke of magical harmonics, essence transfer, and energy modulation with a clarity that left even the experts astonished.
When the discussions ended, the hall was filled not with applause — but with quiet admiration.He had just earned the respect of the brightest minds alive.
Private Meeting with Fudge
As the guests drifted away, Fudge approached with a politician's practiced smile.
"Mr. Valvas, if you'd grant me a few minutes of your time…"
Roy glanced at him — expression unreadable — then nodded. "Of course, Minister."
They entered the Minister's office, the door sealing behind them with a charm.
Fudge sat down, fingers tapping nervously on the desk.
"Let's speak plainly," he began. "You've seen the press. The public adores you, and frankly, your… patronus display saved not just Hogwarts, but my administration. I could use your support, politically speaking."
Roy leaned back in his chair, eyes cool.
"Support is earned, Minister. Not bought with medals.""Ah—yes, quite right," Fudge stammered, wiping sweat. "But surely, we can come to an understanding. I'm prepared to offer opportunities — advisory roles, recognition—"Roy interrupted softly."What's in it for me?"
Fudge froze, then forced a chuckle. "Straight to business, eh? Very well, name your price."
Roy's tone remained calm, but every word was precise.
"Five seats in the Wizengamot."
Fudge blinked, flustered. "Five? Impossible! I—I couldn't possibly—"
"Then you're wasting both our time," Roy said, standing as though to leave.
Fudge raised a hand quickly. "Wait! I can give two seats… maybe three at most."
Roy paused, looking over his shoulder. "Three, then. And one of them must be returned to the Frostborne family, whose title was wrongfully revoked under your predecessor."
The Minister hesitated — then nodded.
"Done."
Roy's smile was faint, almost polite. "Good. Then in return, I'll tell you how to survive the coming storm."
The Political Bargain
Over the next half hour, Roy spoke — not as a student, but as a strategist.
He laid out a plan:
A public apology tour across key wizarding communities.
Announcements of new safety measures around Hogwarts.
A special task force on Dementor control, to be chaired by Amelia Bones.
And a staged press release portraying Fudge as the decisive minister who immediately rewarded heroism and restored public trust.
Fudge listened, awestruck.By the end, his quill had barely kept up with the notes.
"If you follow this," Roy concluded, "you'll regain your lost support within a month. Maybe even gain it."Fudge exhaled shakily. "You're… remarkable, Mr. Valvas. Perhaps I misjudged your generation.""You misjudge many things, Minister," Roy said quietly. "But you learn fast. That's useful."
They shook hands. The deal was sealed.And as Roy walked out of the office, Fudge sat back in his chair, already envisioning headlines of redemption.
He didn't realize — he had just made himself a pawn in Roy Valvas's grander game.