Roy stepped out of the Headmaster's office, the polished marble cool beneath his boots.Behind him, Snape lingered near the doorway, his dark eyes narrowing, a frown creasing his pale face.
"Albus," Snape said quietly, his voice low and sharp, "do you truly think… he won't become the next Dark Lord? After all, such talent, such power…"
Dumbledore, leaning lightly on his half-moon glasses, shook his head gently.
"Severus, last year when he arrived at Hogwarts, he spent nearly every free hour in the library — the Forbidden Section, even. And yet, he sought knowledge of every kind… except black magic."
Snape's eyebrows rose sharply, disbelief flickering across his face.
"He avoided black magic?"
Phineas Nigellus Black, leaning from his frame with a faint smirk, interjected:
"Indeed, Severus. Reckless as he may be in small matters, he is careful where it counts. Besides, his grandfather — Darius Valvas, with his influence spanning nations — would ensure he cannot care for mundane political power in the wizarding world."
Snape's lips pressed into a thin line, thoughtful now.
"And yet…" he murmured, "…someone with his power, connections… he could seize control if he wished."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind the lenses.
"Precisely why he won't, Severus. Roy Valvas is of a lineage that values mastery and principle over dominion. His heart does not yearn for political authority, and he has been raised with care and foresight."
Phineas leaned closer to the two.
"Albus, Severus… let me tell you. Roy is a fine descendant of Darius Valvas. A great one, in fact. And I confess, I am jealous of Darius himself for having raised such a grandson so well."
Snape's dark eyes flickered, a mixture of grudging respect and unease.
"Hmph. That boy… I suppose time will reveal if he truly holds such discipline."
Dumbledore's voice was soft but firm.
"He does, Severus. And remember — power without purpose is dangerous, but purpose without wisdom is folly. Roy has both, in abundance."
Meanwhile, Roy had already exited the office, greeting the gargoyle perched atop the doorway with a nod.
"Good afternoon," he said lightly. The gargoyle blinked, a faint grunt in response, and Roy chuckled softly.
He walked swiftly through the castle corridors, past the stone arches and flickering torches, until he arrived at the Forbidden Section of the library. The ancient tomes seemed to sense him, whispering softly in the silence.
Roy's silver-white hair caught the candlelight as he moved along the shelves, selecting rare manuscripts on magical theory, potion development, advanced charms, transfiguration, and ancient alchemy.He ignored the darker tomes, the books on curses and black magic that often drew the attention of those who sought shortcuts to power. His focus was clear: mastery, understanding, improvement.
Hours passed in the quiet company of ink-stained pages and whispering parchments. Every spell, every technique, every theory he absorbed added another layer to his already formidable skill set.
Finally, with a satisfied nod, he closed the last tome and left the library, carefully returning the books to their proper places.
By the time he reached the Hufflepuff dormitory, the corridors were dim, the castle steeped in the calm hush of midnight. He lay down in his bed, letting exhaustion take him as he drifted into sleep, his dreams filled with the glimmering wings of Dvalin and Articuno, and the quiet hum of magic waiting to be mastered.