The next morning, the castle was buzzing. Everywhere Roy went, whispers followed him like a shadow.
"That's him—Roy Valvas, the one who burned a troll to ashes!""They say even Dumbledore smiled when he heard what happened.""He's a Hufflepuff, right? Finally, a legend from that House!"
Even the Weasley twins saluted him at breakfast, grinning. Roy only chuckled and focused on his pumpkin juice—he had long gotten used to attention.
Just as he was about to leave for his next class, Professor McGonagall approached, her usual stern face softened by a hint of respect.
"Mr. Valvas, the Headmaster wishes to see you in his office."
Roy's eyes gleamed faintly with anticipation. "Understood, Professor."
When he arrived at the third floor, the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office turned its head toward him. Its eyes glowed faintly as it rumbled,
"Password?"
Before Roy could answer, the gargoyle sighed dramatically.
"It's 'Fizzing Whizzbee' again… honestly, of all the sweet things in this castle."
Roy snorted softly. "I can see why you sound disgusted."
The gargoyle grumbled.
"You get it! When you're done talking with the Headmaster, come back and chat. I rarely meet humans with sense."
Roy smiled. "Deal."
The gargoyle stepped aside, revealing the spiral staircase.
At the top, the door opened automatically.
The Headmaster's office was bathed in warm candlelight, its shelves crowded with curious instruments ticking and humming quietly. Dozens of portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses lined the walls, whispering and chuckling among themselves.
Roy entered and bowed slightly.
"Good morning, Headmaster."
Before Dumbledore could respond, Phineas Nigellus Black leaned forward from his portrait, his face twisted in mock suspicion.
"And what brings you here again, young man? Trouble follows you like an owl after supper."
Roy shrugged, his expression perfectly innocent.
"I'm not sure, sir. Maybe my good looks are causing concern."
The other portraits burst into laughter, and Phineas's scowl deepened.
"Impertinent brat," he muttered.
Roy smirked. "Careful, Headmaster Black, or I might ask Professor Dumbledore to move your portrait outside the boys' lavatory. I think it would suit your temperament."
The entire wall erupted in laughter this time. Even the former Hufflepuff Headmistress, a kindly-looking witch, chuckled and said,
"He's got your number, Phineas."
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Well, I see you've made quite an impression already, Mr. Valvas."
Roy turned and gave a small bow toward the portraits. "Always a pleasure to entertain great minds, sir."
When the laughter died down, Dumbledore's tone softened.
"Tell me, Roy… what do you think of Lord Voldemort?"
Roy's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't hesitate.
"He's an idiot."
Dumbledore blinked, taken aback—not by disrespect, but by how casually Roy said it.
"An idiot?"
Roy nodded. "A brilliant idiot, but still one. He doesn't understand the muggle world, their technology, their potential. He's blinded by old ideals and fear. If he tried his nonsense in France, my grandfather Darius Valvas would make his life a living hell."
At the mention of Darius, Dumbledore chuckled softly, nostalgia flickering in his eyes.
"Ah, Darius… a fine man, and a formidable one. We've shared more than a few cups of tea over the years."
Roy continued, calm and confident.
"Compared to Voldemort, Grindelwald was better. At least he understood muggles and the modern world. Grandfather said that himself."
Dumbledore's smile faded into a thoughtful silence. Inwardly, he admitted that Roy was right. Even he, who once opposed Grindelwald, knew that much.
Then Dumbledore leaned forward slightly.
"One more question, my boy. What kind of magic did you use that night against the troll? It was unlike any I've seen."
Roy smiled faintly, his golden eyes glinting.
"It's… something I created. My grandfather taught me swordsmanship, and my mother, Jessica Valvas, taught me magic. One day, I wondered—what if I combined them?"
The portraits leaned closer, intrigued.
"After some trial and error," Roy continued, "I succeeded. A fusion of physical focus and magical energy—an art that channels one's magic through the blade instead of a wand."
The room fell silent. Even Phineas Nigellus Black looked momentarily speechless.
Dumbledore's expression shifted from curiosity to genuine admiration.
"Fascinating… truly fascinating. You've walked a path no one else in this castle has dared to try."
Roy shrugged modestly. "It's just something I experimented with. I didn't expect it to work that well."
Phineas finally spoke again, muttering in disbelief.
"Swordsmanship and magic… Merlin save us, Hufflepuffs are getting dangerous."
Laughter echoed again from the other portraits.
Roy stood, giving Dumbledore a polite bow.
"If that's all, Headmaster, I'll take my leave."
Dumbledore nodded, still smiling.
"Indeed, Mr. Valvas. And… thank you—for reminding me that courage comes in many forms."
As Roy left, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, eyes thoughtful.
"A boy of fire and wisdom… Darius, your grandson is even more extraordinary than you said."
Outside, the gargoyle grinned at Roy's return.
"So? Survive the old man?"
Roy smirked. "Barely. He asked about my magic."
The gargoyle snorted.
"Careful, kid. You keep this up, and even the portraits will start worshipping you."
Roy chuckled and walked away, his cloak fluttering behind him—The Shura of Hufflepuff, already carving his legend into Hogwarts itself.
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