Ezekiel Malverne's life had shifted drastically in the past year. From becoming Lord Ravenclaw and marrying Daphne to signing a professional Quidditch contract with the Falmouth Falcons, his responsibilities had grown heavier.
Now, as the summer continued, he prepared to step into two new roles—one on the Quidditch field and another in the political arena as a member of the Wizengamot.
---
The Malverne Estate's dining hall was lively as Ezekiel sat with Daphne, Alys, and Celes for breakfast.
Alys, ever the troublemaker, smirked over her teacup. "So, big brother is leaving us behind again? First marriage, now professional Quidditch?"
Celes, sitting beside her, frowned. "I don't like it."
Ezekiel reached out, ruffling his youngest sister's hair. "You know you can visit Ravenclaw Manor anytime, Celes."
She crossed her arms. "Not the same."
Daphne chuckled, setting down her cup. "We'll always be part of your life, Celes. You can even stay over whenever you want."
That brightened Celes' mood slightly, though she muttered, "You better not forget me."
Ezekiel smirked. "As if I could."
---
Later that day, Ezekiel entered the study of his father, Thomas Malverne. His father stood behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back, his usual unreadable expression in place.
"Ezekiel," Thomas began, his voice calm but firm, "you are stepping into a world that will demand more from you than ever before. As Lord Ravenclaw, your responsibilities extend beyond Quidditch. You now hold a seat in the Wizengamot. Your presence is expected at the next session."
Ezekiel nodded. "I understand. I'll be there."
Thomas studied him. "Your mother and I have prepared you for this, but you will need to learn quickly. The political world is as ruthless as any battlefield."
Ezekiel met his father's gaze. "I'm ready."
For the first time, Thomas' expression softened just slightly. "Good. You'll attend the next session with me. Watch, learn, and when the time is right, make your presence known."
Ezekiel understood what his father meant—power was not just taken, it was established.
---
Days later, Ezekiel stepped into the ancient chambers of the Wizengamot, seated in the section reserved for noble houses. His Lord Ravenclaw seat stood beside his father's Lord Malverne seat.
The chamber was filled with the whispers of lords, ministry officials, and influential figures, all maneuvering for their own interests.
Across the room, he caught sight of Lucius Malfoy, who gave him a polite nod. Others, such as Amos Diggory and Tiberius Ogden, observed him curiously.
The session began, and Ezekiel listened carefully. The discussions ranged from international relations with France to funding for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
At one point, an older member, Lord Rosier, glanced at Ezekiel and remarked, "It's rare to see a young lord take his seat so early."
Ezekiel met his gaze evenly. "Responsibility is not dictated by age, but by one's willingness to bear it."
That earned a few murmurs of approval from the surrounding lords, while his father gave the slightest nod.
By the end of the session, Ezekiel knew this was just the beginning of his political journey.
---
A week later, Ezekiel arrived at Falmouth Falcons' training facility.
The moment he stepped into the locker room, he was met with curious and skeptical gazes.
A tall, muscular Beater with dark eyes smirked. "So, you're the kid replacing Darrow?"
"Ezekiel Malverne," he introduced himself.
"We know who you are," another Chaser, Miles Travers, said. "Youngest player in the league this season. Let's see if you're as good as the press says."
The Keeper, Ronan O'Connor, crossed his arms. "Or just another noble brat playing at being an athlete."
Ezekiel met their stares, unwavering. "If you think I'm here because of my family name, then let's settle it on the field."
Their smirks widened. The challenge was accepted.
---
The scrimmage began at a brutal pace. The Falcons were known for their aggressive, high-contact playstyle, and Ezekiel quickly realized this was nothing like Hogwarts Quidditch.
Within fifteen minutes, he was hit with a Bludger to the ribs, nearly knocking him off his broom.
The veterans watched, waiting for hesitation.
Instead, Ezekiel grinned. If they wanted to test him, he would make sure they remembered his name.
By the end of the scrimmage, he had:
Scored multiple goals, weaving through defenders.
Executed sharp, precise passes that broke through the team's rigid formation.
Adapted to their aggressive tactics without backing down.
As they landed, Coach Victor Langley clapped his hands.
"Not bad, Malverne. Not bad at all."
The Falcons didn't give out praise easily, but Ezekiel could feel it—he had earned their respect.
---
That evening, Ezekiel returned to Ravenclaw Manor, exhausted but satisfied.
Daphne was waiting for him in their private lounge, a bottle of wine on the table.
"How was training?" she asked, watching as he collapsed onto the couch.
"Brutal," he admitted, "but worth it."
Daphne smirked, settling onto his lap. "Good. Because I want my husband to be the best."
Ezekiel pulled her in for a kiss, his exhaustion melting away.
Daphne shifted, her fingers slipping beneath his shirt. "Let's celebrate properly, shall we?"
That night, the stress of politics and Quidditch training vanished in Daphne's embrace.
And as he held his wife close, Ezekiel Malverne knew—
This was just the beginning of his new life.
---