The Compassionate Youth Pastor of Merlin

Cornelius Fudge sat in Dumbledore's office, sweating through his expensive robes like a man who had just realized his entire career was teetering on the edge of a very deep, very dark abyss. He had just contacted every judge involved in Sirius Black's sham trial, hoping for a reasonable response—perhaps a call for justice? Reevaluation of the case?

Instead, their reply was simple:

"Silence them. Put Black back in Azkaban and ensure he doesn't leave alive."

The room fell into a horrified silence as Madam Bones, Minerva McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore, and Lupin read the letter.

McGonagall looked like she wanted to throw up.

Lupin clenched his fists, shaking with rage.

Snape—who had never liked Black—had a rare expression of disgust.

Even Dumbledore's twinkle momentarily died.

Fudge, meanwhile, turned into a human puddle of panic.

"Th-this is ridiculous!" he stammered, trying to smooth down his robe as if adjusting fabric could erase corruption.

"They're suggesting we just kill him," Madam Bones whispered, voice thick with controlled fury.

"And sweep it under the rug," Snape added, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Disgusting," Lupin spat, glaring at the Minister like he was the manifestation of everything wrong with the world.

But amidst the tension, Raja…

Smirked.

Because, of course, he already knew this was going to happen.

With dramatic flair, Raja snapped his fingers, and with a soft pop, a dignified, regal-looking Dobby appeared, wearing a perfectly tailored butler's uniform.

"Master," Dobby said, bowing elegantly, "Dobby has arrived."

Fudge, who had never seen an elf behave like a nobleman, looked like he'd swallowed his own tie.

Raja nodded with an air of noble suffering. "Dobby, you know what to do."

Dobby adjusted his white gloves and took the letter Raja handed him, nodding solemnly.

"Of course, Master. Before he became a butler, Dobby's late master was an MI6 agent. Stealth is in Dobby's very bones."

Madam Bones blinked. "...I'm sorry. What?"

But before anyone could demand an explanation, Dobby vanished.

The letter was addressed to Rita Skeeter, and it was a beautifully-crafted bomb of journalistic chaos.

It detailed everything:

The sham trial of Sirius Black

The attempt on Pettigrew's life to silence him

The Minister's negligence

A well-placed manipulation to make it seem like noble families were responsible for the attack

And at the very end, Raja had added:

"Urgent! Report before they execute Sirius Black, your disciple of justice, SHADE."

Because nothing motivated Rita Skeeter like a scandal big enough to set the wizarding world on fire.

By morning, the gates of Hogwarts were under siege.

A horde of reporters from the Daily Prophet, Wizarding Weekly, The Quibbler, and even a French publication Raja had never heard of were demanding an interview with Sirius Black and the Minister.

Fudge looked like he was about to fake his own death and flee the country.

Dumbledore, ever the agent of controlled chaos, simply smiled and said, "Well, it seems we have an audience."

Madam Bones, now carrying a migraine the size of Europe, sighed. "Let's get this over with."

So out they went—Fudge, Bones, Sirius, Dumbledore, and Raja.

Naturally, Raja immediately took over the entire thing.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Raja shouted, spreading his arms wide like a preacher welcoming lost souls.

The cameras flashed like crazy.

Reporter 1: Who are you? why are you taking the part of spoke person in this tiuation.

Raja " Because I was the person who found the Mr. black and made him realise vengeance is not the solution.

Reporter 2: How did you find him.

Raja: "Ah, my brother. It is written in the sacred texts of Merlin, and by sacred texts, I mean…"

Pulls out the Marauder's Map dramatically.

Raja: "This bad boy right here showed me a name that should NOT have existed—one Peter Pettigrew!"

Gasps from the crowd.

Sirius: [grinning] "Bloody brilliant."

Rita Skeeter: "And what did you do when you realized this, Pastor Kumara?"

Raja: *"Did I panic? Nay. Did I run to the Ministry like a fool expecting justice? Nay again! I, the humble shepherd of truth, walked into the lion's den known as the Shrieking Shack and sat like a KING!"

Sirius awkwardly nods behind him.

Sirius: "Yeah, he was sitting on a conjured throne, eating grapes."

Raja: "For even in the face of darkness, one must snack."

Reporter3: where are the evidences for Sirius being not guilty.

Raja: [dramatic sigh] "reporters, may I present to you… EXHIBIT A!"

Throws a handkerchief into the air—

It bursts into golden light, revealing a floating magical portrait of Peter Pettigrew confessing under Veritaserum. The portrait looks down and says in a whiny voice:

Portrait Peter: "Yes, yes, I betrayed the Potters, framed Sirius, and then pretended to be a rat for twelve years. It was exhausting."

The crowd goes ballistic. Reporters scribble notes furiously.

 Raja gestured dramatically to Sirius, who transformed into his dog form, whimpered pathetically, then transformed back into his human self, looking like the very embodiment of suffering.

The crowd gasped.

"Look at him!" Raja cried, wiping away a tear that didn't exist. "An innocent man, locked away for TWELVE YEARS, with nothing but dementors and regret for company!"

The reporters erupted into murmurs of sympathy.

Sirius, caught off guard, blinked at Raja. "Wait—"

Raja spun to face him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Sirius," he said solemnly, "do you hate them? Do you wish for vengeance?"

Sirius hesitated. His rage had been the only thing keeping him alive in Azkaban.

But then he saw Harry, watching from the crowd.

And suddenly, the answer changed.

"No," he said finally, his voice raw. "I just want to live."

The crowd erupted in applause.

Raja nodded sagely. "And that, my dear people, is the power of compassion!"

Rita Skeeter, vibrating with excitement, immediately asked, "But what of the noble families? Were they involved?"

Raja sighed dramatically. "We cannot say for certain, but many feel deep regret for what happened to Sirius. So much regret, in fact, that they have each promised him 50,000 Galleons in compensation."

Somewhere, entire noble families collectively choked on their breakfast.

And just like that, the narrative was sealed.

With the nobles publicly compensating Sirius, the Ministry had no choice but to officially clear his name.

Sirius and Harry had their long-awaited emotional reunion, Lupin also promised to stay by Harry's side, and for once, it felt like things were looking up.

Then came the End-of-Year Feast.

As expected, Slytherin won the House Cup again, much to Gryffindor's endless suffering.

But this time, the biggest honor went to Raja Again.

Dumbledore stood, smiling warmly.

"I am proud to announce a special award to a young man who once again has shown exceptional wit, bravery, and an undeniable flair for dramatic theatrics."

Raja came from the door once again this time he was raiding an unicorn in White and gold robes with divine light following from the sky with background music of Halo.

There was collective gasp's in the hall and pin drop silent.

The Youth Pastor of Merlin had arrived.

After taking the reward he was going to give a speech.

He spread his arms wide and preached to the masses.

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, witches and wizards of all ages!

I come before you today not as a mere student of Hogwarts, not as just another handsome, highly intelligent, magically gifted prodigy—though all of those things are, of course, true. No, today, I stand before you as a humble servant of the HOLY ORDER OF MERLIN! (Praise be! 🙌)

Brothers and sisters, have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and thought, Wow, I wish I was half as powerful as Merlin? Have you ever stared at your wand and realized it just… doesn't wand the way Merlin's did? Well, worry not, my dear children, for salvation is at hand! The Order of Merlin is recruiting!

Yes! For a small membership fee—ahem, a modest, heartfelt donation—you too can walk the righteous path of the First and Foremost Wizard of Legend! You'll receive:

✔️ The illusion of magical superiority!

✔️ A Certificate of Awesomeness signed by yours truly!

✔️ The spiritual right to wear long, dramatic robes and stroke your beard thoughtfully (fake beards available for first-years)!

✔️ And of course, the eternal, unquestionable knowledge that you are simply better than everyone else.

For only ONE Galleon a day, you can pretend you, too, are destined for greatness!

Now, my dear faithful, before we pass around the holy donation hat, let us discuss the tragic case of one Sirius Black.

A man misunderstood. A soul misjudged. A wizard in desperate need of… well, quite frankly, a better lifestyle.

Sirius Black has been through so much pain, so much suffering, and worst of all—he's had ZERO personal spa days in over 12 years! Truly, brothers and sisters, this is an injustice.

For just a tiny donation—(minimum of 5 Galleons, no Sickles accepted, we have standards)—you can help our dear brother Sirius move from a dingy, flea-infested cave to a five-star resort where he truly belongs.

💰 DONATE NOW! 💰Remember, giving is its own reward! (And by "its own reward," I mean I'll be rewarding myself with the money.)

Let us all bow our heads and chant together:

"Hallowed be thy beard, O Merlin the Magnificent!Guide our wands, expand our vaults!And grant us the wisdom… to donate generously to Raja's pockets!"

AMEN! 🙌🔥

(Disclaimer: The Order of Merlin is not responsible for any financial loss, parental disappointment, or unforeseen expulsion from Hogwarts. All donations are non-refundable and 100% legally questionable.)

"Brothers and sisters of magic, let us REJOICE! For today, we witness the divine will of Merlin restoring justice upon this sacred land!"

McGonagall facepalmed.

 Flitwick trying to stop is lol in stomach in pain.

Snape actively glared at the ceiling, silently pleading for divine intervention.

Dumbledore, sipping his tea, just let it happen.

And thus, another year at Hogwarts ended—with chaos, justice, and the rise of Wizarding Britain's strangest hero.