The morning air was crisp and biting, though Roy hardly noticed it. Narcissa Black, Nagini, and Bela White had come to him early, their faces serious yet respectful.
"There's a trial tomorrow," Narcissa said calmly. "You'll want to attend."
Roy raised an eyebrow but didn't react with surprise. He already knew what the trial was about, yet he chose to go, if only to observe. "Fine. I'll come," he said casually. "I own three seats at Wizengamot. You three will be my proxies."
The next morning, the four of them arrived at Wizengamot. The grandeur of the chambers always impressed visitors, but Roy's eyes scanned quickly, noting every member. As they entered, whispers filled the room—some in awe, some in thinly veiled irritation. Roy waved politely to a few members.
When his gaze fell on Harry Potter in the question box, he smiled. "Hello, Harry." Harry's eyes widened slightly at seeing Roy, a familiar yet overwhelming presence. Roy leaned closer and whispered, "Good luck. Don't worry, I'll handle the idiots."
Roy's voice carried naturally, even without speaking too loudly. "Who decided a trial should be held at six in the morning?" he asked. Heads turned, and many Wizengamot members nodded, some murmuring and arguing among themselves.
Then, a sharp, squeaky voice broke the murmurs: "Dolores Umbridge. It's her."
Roy's eyes swept the chamber, landing on her smug, twisted expression. He tilted his head, questioning. "First question," he said, addressing the Wizengamot members. "Who allowed a toad to be here?"
Dolores flushed bright red, her eyes narrowing, but no one answered immediately. She opened her mouth to scold Roy, but he ignored her entirely.
"Second question," Roy continued, voice calm and precise. "If one wants to be a Wizengamot member, must they inherit it from someone or do some great deed for the wizarding world?" Every member nodded in unison, even Cornelius Fudge.
Roy's smile widened slightly. "And what great deed has this… toad done for the wizarding world?"
The chamber fell silent. Fudge fidgeted. Most Wizengamot members glanced awkwardly at one another, unsure how to respond. Everyone knew the truth: Umbridge was there only because of Fudge's backing, not merit.
Dolores' face twisted with rage. Roy didn't even flinch as he applied a tiny fraction of Conqueror's Haki—barely perceptible, but enough to make her sweat, pale, and stagger back into her seat. Roy, as usual, didn't care. He walked to the side, taking his own seat while Nagini, Bela White, and Narcissa Black filled the others.
The trial began. Evidence piled up against Harry Potter, who could barely defend himself. Dumbledore stepped forward, reasoning calmly, but the impact was minimal—the Wizengamot members were as biased as ever. Harry's heart sank; the weight of injustice pressed upon him.
Roy finally stood, his presence commanding attention. "Let me ask everyone here a simple question," he said. "If a dark wizard comes to kill a wizard, should the wizard use magic to defend himself… or should he announce to the dark wizard that using magic will get him in front of the Wizengamot?"
The chamber went silent. Even Dumbledore's eyebrows raised slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Dolores' face turned crimson, anger and frustration mingling visibly. Every other member of the Wizengamot had no response.
Roy continued, his voice calm, sharp, and unyielding. "This case is like telling a child not to do bad things. Common sense—nothing more. The prosecution's evidence relies on fear, not law."
Laughter rippled through the chamber. Dumbledore chuckled quietly, nodding in approval. Nagini, Bela, and Narcissa sat back, satisfied. Dolores Umbridge, however, could only fume.
The voting commenced. Every member of Wizengamot—except Dolores—voted in favor of Harry. The decision was unanimous. The case closed with Harry winning, and for the first time in days, he allowed himself a breath of relief.
Roy leaned back, watching quietly. The trial was over, the injustice corrected, and once again, the world had been reminded that common sense, courage, and authority backed by strength always prevailed—especially when Roy Valvas was involved.