Magical Journey in HP * DXD

The atmosphere inside the meeting chamber was thick with tension. The room, set up like a courtroom, had two opposing factions—Gryffindor and their guardians on one side, Slytherin and their parents on the other.

In the center, Dumbledore sat, his fingers laced together, his blue eyes betraying a weariness that had settled deep within him.

With a measured tone, he finally spoke.

"Gentlemen, we are here today because wrong actions have been taken on both sides. I hope we can come to a resolution and put this matter to rest. This is a slight—children playing, which got out of hand."

The words had barely left his lips when Lucius Malfoy stood up, his elegant sneer firmly in place.

"Children do not go around pointing their wands and firing spells at others, Headmaster."

On the Gryffindor side, Arthur Weasley stood as well .

"To foul-mouthed brats? I would say that's the proper course of action."

Lucius scoffed. "So, your solution is to attack anyone who speaks something you don't like?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice steady but firm. "When one is stupid enough to spew hatred in broad daylight, then yes, perhaps a little reminder is in order."

A low murmur rippled through both sides of the room. Some Gryffindor parents nodded in agreement, while the Slytherin side snickered at the exchange.

Lucius smirked, taking a deliberate step forward. "Then perhaps I should hit you right here, right now, Weasley."

Several Slytherin students and parents chuckled darkly, enjoying the moment.

But before the tension could escalate, another voice cut through—smooth, yet laced with barely contained hostility.

"I would like to remind everyone that the first spell fired in that encounter came from a Slytherin wand."

All heads turned towards Sirius Black, now standing, his grey eyes gleaming with amusement.

Lucius turned to him with a raised brow. "And what are you implying, Black?"

Sirius smirked. "That perhaps your son should learn to hold his tongue instead of letting it flap around like a snake's ."

The Slytherin parents bristled, while Lucius's jaw tightened.

"And you seem awfully outspoken yourself, Black. Perhaps I should fire a spell at you instead."

Dumbledore finally stood up, raising a hand.

"Gentlemen, we are not here to fight amongst ourselves. This is a dispute between students, and as adults, we must set an example."

Lucius and Sirius glared at each other but scoffed and sat back down.

Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his temple slightly.

"We must remember that Hogwarts is a place of learning, a place where we guide the younger generation towards a better future."

There was silence as he continued.

"Now, this matter could have been resolved had James apologized for his actions, and Draco for his words."

He turned towards the students.

"Now, I would like both of you to stand and state that you will not repeat the same mistake."

Lucius nudged Draco, silently commanding him to comply. After a brief hesitation, Draco stood up, looking towards James.

"First him."

James stood as well, but inside, his mind was already working through Dumbledore's ploy.

Ah, Dumbledore, you sly dog. Still trying to maintain control, are you?

It was obvious what the Headmaster was attempting—pressuring James in front of multiple adults, all of whom believed themselves to be on the 'good side.'

To the Light faction, forgiveness was the ideal outcome.

To the Dark faction, having James apologize first would preserve their twisted sense of pride.

But that's not going to happen.

His voice, calm but firm, rang across the room.

"Headmaster, I will ask for forgiveness… if you answer my question first."

Dumbledore's expression faltered slightly—a flicker of unease crossing his face.

"Go on, James."

James turned his gaze towards the room, making sure every single person was listening.

"You adults have danced around the word Draco used. The word that started all of this."

A sharp silence fell over the room.

James's voice was steady, but his eyes burned with conviction.

"Mudblood."

The word cut through the air like a dagger.

The Gryffindor adults visibly tensed, their expressions darkening.

Even among the Slytherins, some inhaled sharply—because while they may be okay with it, very few had the audacity to say it publicly.

James's voice did not waver.

"Draco Malfoy called me and Hermione that—publicly, in front of everyone."

His gaze locked onto Dumbledore.

"That word means that my very existence is worthless. That my parents' love and sacrifice meant nothing. That my birth itself is an insult to the world."

A heavier silence settled over the room.

James did not stop.

"I never met my parents. They died protecting me. And now, you're telling me that the sacrifice of my parents—who give there life for me—is meaningless enough that all it takes to erase that insult is a half-hearted 'sorry'?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but before he could speak—

Arthur stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

"I have heard enough. Tell me, Headmaster, is this how your school conducts itself? A place where remarks that fueled a war are brushed aside with a 'child's apology'?"

Beside him, Wendell Granger stood as well.

"Our children are some of the brightest students in this school. And this is how they are treated? I will not allow my daughter to remain in an environment like this."

Arthur nodded firmly. "I have heard of another school in America. I will be considering a transfer."

Sirius shot up from his seat, slamming his hands on the table.

"Like hell they're leaving! The ones who should be kicked out are those snakes."

A loud uproar erupted as the Slytherin side stood up in protest, shouting back.

The entire room devolved into chaos.

Dumbledore pressed his fingers against his temple, his headache worsening.

James, still standing, watched the Headmaster's expression closely.

There it is.

For years, Dumbledore relied on the Light faction's unwavering support, banking on their trust. But now, that trust was cracking. If he lost their backing, his passive, non-interventionist policies would crumble.

And the best part?

He couldn't abandon them now.

James sit back in his chair, arms crossed, watching as McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick desperately tried to calm the room down.