The marble floor of the Hogwarts corridors gleamed faintly in the soft afternoon light.Roy walked with measured steps toward the Headmaster's office, his silver-white hair shimmering under the enchanted ceiling's glow. Dvalin and Articuno remained safely in the pocket dimension, waiting for his return.
As he reached the heavy doors, he raised a hand and knocked. The portraits lining the entrance — dignified former headmasters and witches of renown — stirred and murmured greetings.
Roy inclined his head.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen, ladies."
A familiar voice cut through the chatter.
"Well, well, well… if it isn't young Valvas," Phineas Nigellus Black drawled, his painted eyes glinting with mischief. "I hear you performed the Sorting Ceremony this year. Care to share how the students survived?"
Roy's lips curved into a sly smile.
"Survived? I believe they did. But tell me, Phineas, how did it go when you were principal? I hear your 'unpopular' tenure was… memorable."
The portraits chuckled. One of the older headmasters muttered,
"Oh, I remember… the fire in the Great Hall…"
Phineas blinked, his painted cheeks flushing faintly.
"I—well, that was different! And I maintain, the students survived because of my leadership!"
Roy laughed softly, a sound like silver bells.
"Impressive… for the unpopular principal. I must say, I am impressed that even in your tenure, you could leave such an impression."
The portraits erupted into laughter, their painted mouths moving animatedly. Even Dumbledore, seated at his desk with his long fingers steepled, let out a soft chuckle.
"Young man," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon glasses, "I see you have a talent not only for magic, but for… diplomacy with portraits as well."
Roy inclined his head.
"I make it a habit to notice every detail, Headmaster. Every ally matters, even painted ones."
Phineas Black muttered something under his breath, still blushing faintly, while Snape, leaning in the corner, raised an eyebrow.
"I admit, Valvas," Snape said in his low, sharp drawl, "I am curious. Your power seems to have… grown considerably since last term. What have you done?"
Roy walked to the center of the office, folding his hands behind his back.
"Last time we spoke, I mentioned combining my swordsmanship with my magical techniques. I've refined the methods, enhancing the synergy between blade and magic. The result is an increase in both my combat efficiency and my magical output."
Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly, and he gestured at the portraits behind him.
"Indeed… this is remarkable, even by your standards. And you have maintained control over such power without incident?"
"Yes, Headmaster. The limits of my power are carefully monitored. I prefer mastery to recklessness."
The portraits murmured in admiration, and Snape's thin lips twitched — somewhere between acknowledgment and irritation.
Just then, a soft, melodic chirp reached Roy's ear. He turned slightly, and Fawx, his phoenix, perched on his shoulder, ruffled her glowing feathers.
In the phoenix language, she asked:
"Shall we play with Articuno and Dvalin?"
Roy smiled and whispered softly,
"Of course. You've earned some fun."
With a gentle motion, he sent Fawx into the pocket dimension, where Dvalin and Articuno were waiting. The three magical creatures met in a whirl of light and color, the air crackling faintly with the joy of playful fire, ice, and draconic energy.
Dumbledore leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"I see you not only grow stronger, Roy, but also maintain balance. That is a rare quality in any wizard… especially one of your age."
Roy inclined his head humbly.
"I try to ensure that power is meaningful, not just overwhelming."
Snape's gaze lingered on him, inscrutable.
"Hmph. Discipline, intelligence… and yet still far too young to understand the consequences of unbridled ambition."
Roy smirked faintly, turning toward the office door.
"Perhaps, Professor. But I prefer learning from experience rather than hesitation."
With that, he strode from the office, Fawx now trailing him in a trail of iridescent flame, ready to join Dvalin and Articuno in their pocket dimension games.
As he stepped into the corridors, the whisper of painted heads followed him. Even Phineas Black, still blushing faintly, muttered:
"That boy… is going to make a legend of himself."
And somewhere deep in the castle, the first hints of new challenges began to stir.