The castle slept beneath a thin veil of moonlight.The Great Hall's torches had long gone out, and the sound of snowflakes brushing against the high windows was the only movement in the night.
Roy walked alone through the corridors, the hem of his cloak whispering against the flagstones. In his hand, he held three letters — each sealed with a familiar crest.
He slipped quietly through the doors leading to the Black Lake. The world outside was silver and still, the surface of the water a perfect mirror to the sky.
Roy sat down by the frozen bank, conjuring a faint orb of golden light to hover beside him. Its warmth shimmered over his face as he broke the first seal.
Letter One — Narcissa Black
"Roy,The first session went better than expected. Fudge listened, surprisingly, and the older members — even those with grudges — could not ignore logic when it served their ambition.Your advice on presenting the Quidditch reforms as economic policy rather than idealism worked perfectly.
I… had forgotten what it felt like to be respected, not tolerated. Thank you for reminding me.— Narcissa Black."*
Roy smiled faintly. Narcissa's words carried restrained dignity — but beneath them, a flicker of renewed purpose.He could almost picture her: head held high in the Wizengamot chamber, no longer the quiet wife of a fallen family, but a woman of power reclaiming her voice.
He folded the letter carefully and looked out over the lake, where the reflection of the moon trembled like a heartbeat.
Letter Two — Bela White
"Boss,The looks on those old men's faces when I spoke — priceless. Half of them thought I'd hex them, the other half realized I was right.Narcissa's idea about sponsorship contracts for the World Cup — brilliant. I added a charm-protection clause for players.Fudge practically drooled at the idea of international praise.You've started something, Roy. And I'm damn proud to be part of it.— Bela."*
Roy chuckled quietly, shaking his head. Trust Bela to make politics sound like a pub brawl she happened to win. Yet behind her fierce tone was loyalty — the kind forged in shared purpose rather than command.
He raised his eyes to the stars, the corners of his mouth softening.
Letter Three — Nagini
"Roy,You asked me once if someone like me could belong among them.Today, when I sat among wizards and witches of power, I didn't feel like a curse. I felt… seen.
Thank you for that. For believing before anyone else did.— Nagini."*
Roy's hand tightened slightly around the parchment.Of all three letters, this one struck deepest. The words were gentle, but they carried a quiet weight — the gratitude of someone who had lived too long in the margins.
He looked at the reflection of the moon again, distorted now by ripples spreading across the water.
"You all did well," he murmured, voice barely above the wind. "You took the world that looked down on you — and made it listen."
A Moment of Reflection
Roy leaned back against a cold rock, watching the orb of light flicker. His mind wandered — to the first time he'd stood in this very spot as a first-year, dreaming only of surviving.Now, the boy who had once walked alone between worlds held three seats in the Wizengamot and three women strong enough to wield them.
And yet… the power didn't feel heavy. Not when it was shared.
He closed his eyes, feeling the calm hum of the lake and the faint thrum of the castle's magic through the ground beneath him.For once, he allowed himself to simply be — not the strategist, not the savior, not the heir. Just Roy.
A soft voice broke the silence.
"You're still awake, Roy?"
He turned to see Professor Flitwick, bundled in a winter cloak, holding a lantern. The little man's eyes twinkled as he approached.
"Couldn't sleep?" Flitwick asked kindly.
Roy smiled faintly. "Just… reading letters."
"Ah," Flitwick said, following his gaze toward the shimmering lake. "It's good to take pride in your pupils, isn't it?"
Roy looked at him in surprise, then chuckled softly. "Maybe that's how it feels."
The professor nodded knowingly and patted his arm before walking back toward the castle, leaving Roy alone with his thoughts.
The night grew quieter. A faint wind stirred the trees.
Roy gathered the letters, pressing them once to his chest before tucking them away. The orb of light dimmed, and the moonlight took its place.
"The pieces are moving," he whispered to the lake. "Let's see where they end."
Then he rose and walked back toward the castle, the snow erasing his footprints behind him — but the reflection of his light lingered long after he was gone.