The Wizengamot chamber gleamed under the enchanted dome, sunlight refracting off hundreds of floating orbs. The ancient purple banners of the Council hung above the circular floor, where the seventy-seven seats of wizarding Britain's highest authority waited to convene.
The door opened — and silence swept through the room.
Three women entered, their presence commanding attention even before they spoke.
Narcissa Black, draped in black and silver robes, her blonde hair braided with a crest of House Black.Bela White, calm and composed in cream robes embroidered with golden threads, carrying a leather folder thick with proposals.And Nagini, her presence regal and serene, her emerald eyes carrying both mystery and quiet resolve.
Whispers rippled across the chamber.
"Is that Narcissa Malfoy?""Divorced, isn't she?""No — she's representing Valvas' seats.""Valvas… the Muggle-born noble? The Order of Merlin boy?"
They ignored the murmurs and took their places — three seats gleaming with the Valvas sigil, a golden phoenix entwined around a sword.
When the Speaker of the Wizengamot called the session to order, Minister Fudge took the center dais, trying to project calm authority.
"Today," he said, "we discuss proposals for economic and cultural revitalization of our magical world. The floor recognizes Lady Narcissa Black of the Valvas seats."
The room quieted. Narcissa rose — poised, collected, her voice cool and clear.
"Esteemed councilors," she began, "Britain stands at a crossroads. The world watches our Quidditch, our trade, our culture — yet our policies remain stagnant. We cling to old structures while other nations innovate."
A few heads turned — some in approval, some in skepticism.
"If the Ministry sponsors a global Quidditch World Cup festival, not just as a sport but as a cultural exhibition — potions, wands, enchantments, art — we could draw unprecedented trade and reputation to Britain."
Her words carried weight — old money poise blended with newfound conviction.
Bela White followed, stepping up beside her, her tone brisk and analytical.
"Our Liyue Store division and Skyjade Dynamics are willing to cooperate. We can provide enchanted safety charms, international ticketing networks, and a media platform through our mirror-link network — ensuring global broadcast. If properly executed, it could double Britain's magical economy within a year."
The murmurs grew — some shocked, others impressed.
Old lords like Abraxas Flint scowled. "Muggle-born technology? Broadcasting our sport like circus entertainment?"
But others — Griselda Marchbanks, Tiberius Ogden, and Amelia Bones — leaned forward with interest.
"Economic reform and cultural expansion," Marchbanks muttered. "Brilliant."
Fudge's eyes gleamed. He could already hear the headlines:"Minister Fudge Modernizes Magical Britain."
"An excellent plan!" he declared. "If the Council agrees, we can begin preparations immediately."
The votes came swiftly.Even the cautious members, smelling opportunity, lifted their wands in assent.
Unanimous — except for the Malfoy, Flint, and Parkinson seats.
Fudge's grin widened. "Motion carried."
Narcissa inclined her head gracefully. Bela closed her folder. Nagini's faint smile said more than words — the tide of wizarding politics had just shifted.
After the Session
When the meeting adjourned, the trio left through the grand marble archway, trailed by murmurs and speculation.
In the carriage waiting outside, Bela White exhaled, brushing a strand of hair aside.
"That went better than expected."
Narcissa smiled faintly. "You underestimate yourself, Bela. You spoke like you owned the chamber."
Nagini chuckled softly. "All according to Roy's rhythm — and yet he wasn't even here."
When they reached the Liyue Store headquarters, Narcissa sealed a letter with the phoenix-sword sigil and handed it to a silver owl.
"He should know what his proxies accomplished today," she said.
The owl soared toward the Scottish sky.
Hogsmeade — The Three Broomsticks
Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, Roy sat at a round wooden table surrounded by warmth and laughter.
Hermione's curls bounced as she laughed over something Daphne said. Cassandra Vole was busy teasing Cho about Quidditch form, while Penelope leaned over a mug of frothy butterbeer, smiling.
Outside, snow flurried gently over the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade.
Roy leaned back, relaxed, enjoying the rare calm.It wasn't the Chamber, or the Ministry — it was home in its own way.
Across the tavern, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, and Minister Fudge had taken a private table with Madam Rosmerta. Their laughter and lowered voices told Roy everything — he already knew this was the day Harry Potter would overhear Sirius Black's past.
For a moment, Roy's gaze turned toward the back room. His senses, ever sharp, caught a faint rustle of movement — the soft sound of Harry sneaking in.
He sighed quietly. "So, history repeats."
But he didn't move. He took another sip of butterbeer instead, his eyes softening as he watched his friends talk.
"Let fate play its game," he murmured. "I have my own pieces to move."
The girls laughed again, and he joined them, the flickering candlelight dancing off his eyes like quiet stars.
Outside, the owl from London winged its way toward Hogwarts — carrying news that the three women he trusted most had just shaken the pillars of wizarding politics.