Ministry of Magic — Court of the Wizengamot
The great circular chamber of the Wizengamot had not been this full in decades.
Golden benches rose tier by tier, each carved with ancient runes of judgment. At the center stood the Speaker's Dais, where Cornelius Fudge wiped sweat from his brow for the third time in a minute.
He cleared his throat.
"This extraordinary session of the Wizengamot is now in order."
Whispers filled the chamber.
A twelve-year-old.
A spell that had already begun improving defensive education, crowd control, and non-lethal enforcement across Britain.
A name whispered with equal parts awe and fear.
Keith Argus Runcandel.
The Black Seat
The doors opened with a measured thud.
High heels echoed against marble.
Narcissa Black entered alone, her posture flawless, silver-blonde hair falling like silk. She wore the Black signet ring openly.
Murmurs rippled.
"The Black family…"
"She's returned in full authority…"
"Temporary Lord, they say…"
Narcissa took her seat without a glance back.
Then the Room Changed
The chamber doors opened again.
Once.
Twice.
Then—fully.
Silence fell like a dropped blade.
Three ancient Wizengamot seats—long reserved, rarely occupied—began to glow.
The Runcandel Seats.
The air pressure shifted.
Luna Runcandel stepped in first.
White-silver hair, glacial eyes, her mere presence frosting the runes beneath her feet.
Grandmage Peak.
Next came Gamma.
Metallic-gold hair, armor-patterned skin, eyes like forged steel.
Mage-Class Dragon Saint.
Then the chamber trembled.
Albedo entered.
Black wings folded elegantly behind her, abyssal mana pressing against every ward in the room.
Demi-God.
The Wizengamot… stood.
Unconsciously.
Even veteran Lords felt their knees weaken.
Reactions
From the Bones seat, Amelia Bones rose instantly.
She inclined her head deeply.
"Sisters."
Luna returned a calm nod.
Gamma smiled faintly.
Albedo's eyes softened—for half a second.
From the Black seat, Narcissa met their gaze.
A silent exchange.
Family.
Across the chamber—
House Malfoy went pale.
House Nott swallowed hard.
Carrow and Flint sat frozen, sweat beading at their temples.
They knew.
If they offended any one of them—
There would be no trial.
No appeal.
Just… absence.
The Accusation That Wasn't
Fudge swallowed.
"This session concerns the publication of an original spell created by—"
He hesitated.
"Twelve-year-old Keith Argus Runcandel."
The murmurs resumed, but weaker now.
A senior Lord scoffed weakly.
"Creating original magic at that age is… unprecedented."
Luna Runcandel spoke.
Her voice was soft.
"And yet."
Silence.
Another Wizengamot witch stood.
"The spell has already reduced fatal accidents in dueling practice by forty percent."
A wizard from Magical Law Enforcement followed.
"It provides crowd restraint without lethal force."
A healer added.
"We've adapted it for emergency triage."
Fudge blinked.
"…It has improved the wizarding world."
Someone muttered:
"Merlin."
The Vote
Fudge straightened.
"The Wizengamot will now vote on recognition and commendation."
Golden orbs floated into the air.
One by one—
They turned green.
All of them.
Unanimous.
The Award
Fudge cleared his throat, voice shaking.
"By unanimous decision… the Wizengamot hereby awards—"
He raised the velvet box.
"The Order of Merlin, First Class, to Keith Argus Runcandel."
Gasps echoed.
First Class.
For a child.
For creation, not war.
Quiet Victory
Luna closed her eyes briefly.
Pride.
Gamma nodded once.
Approval.
Albedo smiled faintly, dangerous and satisfied.
Amelia Bones exhaled slowly.
Narcissa Black allowed herself a single, elegant smile.
From the shadows, the disgraced houses understood one truth:
The Runcandels did not need politics anymore.
Elsewhere — Hogwarts
Keith sneezed.
Rias glanced up.
"…You're being talked about again."
Keith sighed.
"…I just wanted to help."