The morning light streamed through the high windows of the Valvas mansion office as Roy sealed three envelopes, each marked with an intricate sigil.One bore a silver serpent, another a white rose, and the last, a coiled dragon.
Bela White. Narcissa Black. Nagini.
Each letter bore the same message — an invitation to act as his proxy representatives for the three Wizengamot seats now under his control.
I entrust you with a voice in the court of laws. You've each proven yourselves capable of leadership, compassion, and judgment — qualities the wizarding world sorely lacks.The Wizengamot needs strength, yes — but also wisdom. I ask you to be that balance in my stead.— Roy Valvas
The Three Replies
By evening, three responses arrived.
Bela White, ever sharp and calculating, had written in crisp, deliberate strokes.
You have my loyalty, as always. I never thought you'd place me on the same pedestal as the pureblood lords, but I'll wear the title well. The old guard won't know what hit them.— Bela
Narcissa Black's reply was more emotional — her handwriting elegant but trembling slightly.
Roy, I was… speechless. After Lucius, I thought my name had lost all honor. You've given me not just power, but dignity. I swear by the Black legacy, I'll make this seat a beacon, not a shadow.— Narcissa
Nagini's message was short and sincere.
You gave me humanity when others gave me fear. I'll ensure the world you're building isn't one that hunts what it doesn't understand.— Nagini
When Roy finished reading, he smiled faintly — a small, genuine smile.
"The world will have three queens," he murmured, "and each more dangerous than the other."
In the Ministry of Magic
Meanwhile, Cornelius Fudge stood before a crowd of reporters, basking in flashbulbs and enchanted quills as his approval surged.
"Under my leadership, the Ministry has acted decisively against the Dementor breach!" he announced with theatrical pomp."Our alliances with young innovators like Mr. Roy Valvas represent the unity of a new age!"
The hall erupted with applause.Behind the smiles, his secretary whispered the latest figures — a rise from ten to twenty-eight percent popularity in just two weeks.Fudge's grin widened.
"That boy's a genius," he muttered to himself. And he doesn't even know how much he's helped me.
He had no idea Roy had planned it that way all along.
Hogwarts — Headmaster's Office
Later that week, Roy stood before the gargoyle staircase leading to Dumbledore's office. The stone creature recognized him immediately and stepped aside.
Inside, the circular room was alive with quiet magic — shelves of trinkets whirring and glowing, ancient portraits murmuring among themselves.
"Ah, Roy," Dumbledore greeted warmly, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Congratulations, my boy. The whole school's been buzzing with talk of your political ascent."
Roy inclined his head respectfully and sat across from the Headmaster.
Dumbledore leaned forward, steepling his fingers.
"May I ask — why the Wizengamot? You've already achieved what most could only dream of at your age. Why step into the mire of politics?"
Roy took a slow breath. "Because, Headmaster, power fills a void — and I was born without protection in this world."
He looked toward the window, voice steady.
"In the muggle world, my family stood behind me. Here, I stand alone. And when you stand alone, the only shield you can trust is your own strength… or influence."
Dumbledore listened silently, his gaze softening.
Roy continued, "You use power to guide, Professor. I use it to protect.The people I love — my friends, those I care for — they deserve a world where they can chase their dreams without fear. For that, I need leverage."
There was silence — deep, thoughtful.The portraits above stirred, whispering approval.Even Phineas Nigellus Black smirked faintly from his frame.
Dumbledore finally smiled — wistful, proud, and faintly envious.
"I see. You're not wrong, Roy. I sought power once for what I thought were noble reasons — to shape the world for good. But I admire your clarity. You've chosen power not to rule, but to shelter. It's… humbling."
Roy rose, adjusting his coat. "I'm not you, Professor. But I can respect what you tried to do. Perhaps this time, I'll try to do it right."
He turned toward the door but paused — glancing toward the portrait of Phineas Black.
"Phineas," he said, "I've made Narcissa Black one of my proxies for the Wizengamot."
For a heartbeat, the old headmaster's painted face was blank.Then his eyes gleamed with fierce pride.
"Ha! About time that girl reclaimed the Black fire," Phineas barked. "Well done, lad! The family will rise again — not through fear, but through cunning. Just as it should."
Roy nodded slightly and left the office, the ancient portraits murmuring in approval behind him.
Closing Scene
As he stepped out into the evening light, the sun dipped over the castle towers, washing the sky in amber.For once, Roy allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction.
Three Wizengamot seats.Three loyal proxies.A network forming quietly beneath the politics of an old world.
And above all — a purpose that was neither ambition nor glory, but protection.
"For their dreams," he whispered to himself, "and for the world we'll build."