The end-of-year examinations descended upon Hogwarts like a shroud of parchment and anti-cheating quills. For the vast majority of the student body, this was a time of high anxiety, frantic cramming in the library, and the terrifying realization that they couldn't remember the difference between a Monkshood and a Wolfsbane.
For Orion Malfoy, however, exam week was less of a trial and more of a victory lap.
He breezed through the written papers with the casual ease of someone who had memorized the textbooks in October. In the practicals, he didn't just perform the spells; he optimized them. His pineapple tap-danced across the desk in Transfiguration with perfect rhythm. His Forgetfulness Potion in the dungeons was a shade of turquoise so perfect it made Snape pause for a full three seconds—the highest praise available.
Even the history exam, usually a test of endurance against boredom, was simple. Orion treated Goblin Rebellions as case studies in failed logistics, writing essays that were likely far more interesting than the actual events.
When the final quill was laid down, the castle seemed to exhale. The sun blazed down on the grounds, the Black Lake sparkled, and the students were unleashed into a week of glorious freedom before the Leaving Feast.
Harry Potter was back on his feet, looking paler and thinner than before, but upright. He moved through the corridors with a skittish energy, flanked constantly by Ron and Hermione. Whenever Orion entered a room, Harry would stiffen, his eyes darting to the nearest exit, but he said nothing. He threw no hexes. He made no accusations.
"It seems the Headmaster's lecture stuck," Orion mused one afternoon by the lake, skipping a stone across the water. "Or perhaps he's just realized that attacking me usually results in him being tied up on the floor."
"Or he's plotting revenge," Sparkle suggested cheerfully. "Protagonists never give up. They just reload their save file."
"Let him plot," Orion smirked. "I have the high ground."
And indeed, he did. As the students gathered for the Leaving Feast, the Great Hall was decked out in a sea of green and silver. Massive banners depicting the Slytherin Serpent hung from the enchanted ceiling, which tonight was a clear, star-filled expanse.
The atmosphere at the Slytherin table was raucous. Draco was practically vibrating, banging his goblet on the table.
"Look at the hourglasses!" Draco crowed, pointing to the wall behind the High Table.
The visual representation of the year's efforts was staggering.
Slytherin: 640 Points.
It was a record. A historic, crushing lead built on Orion's tutoring program, Snape's bias, and the collective discipline of the house.
Ravenclaw: 426 Points.
Respectable, but distant. They had suffered from a lack of Quidditch victories as well as general studies too.
Hufflepuff: 352 Points.
Solid, consistent, but uninspired.
Gryffindor: 210 Points.
It was a tragedy in ruby. They were dead last. And honestly, Orion knew they were lucky to be even that high. Without the frantic, last-minute pity points awarded by McGonagall ("Five points for... excellent spellwork, Mr. Finnigan"), Flitwick and Sprout to keep the lions from mass depression, they would have been in the double digits.
"They're humiliated," Pansy giggled, adjusting her emerald hairband. "Look at Weasley. He looks like he's chewing a lemon."
Orion glanced over. The Gryffindor table was silent. There was no laughter. No cheering. Just a collective sense of defeat. Harry sat with his head down, tracing patterns on his empty plate.
"The stress-test begins," Orion said, his eyes flicking to the High Table as Dumbledore rose.
The babble of conversation died away instantly.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore chirped, his voice echoing with its usual magical amplification. "And what a year it has been. I hope your heads are all a little fuller than they were last September... though you have the whole summer to empty them again, I suppose."
A polite ripple of laughter went through the hall.
"Now," Dumbledore's expression turned solemn. "The House Cup must be awarded. The current standings are as follows: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with two hundred and ten points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; in second, Ravenclaw, with four hundred and twenty-six; and in first place, Slytherin, with six hundred and forty points."
A deafening roar erupted from the Slytherin table. Draco stood up, pumping his fist. Marcus Flint let out a guttural shout. Even Snape allowed a razor-thin smile to touch his lips.
Dumbledore raised his hands for silence.
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," he said, waitng for the noise to die down. "However, recent events must be taken into account. And I have a few last-minute points to award."
The hall went deathly silent.
Orion leaned forward, his blue eyes narrowing. Here it comes, he thought. The hero-ball points. The narrative override.
"First," Dumbledore announced. "To Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years... I award Gryffindor fifty points."
The Gryffindor table erupted, though it was a desperate, hopeful cheer rather than a victorious one. Ron turned a brilliant shade of red, looking like a stunned fish.
"Second," Dumbledore continued. "To Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool logic in the face of fire... I award Gryffindor fifty points."
Hermione buried her face in her hands, sobbing with relief. Another fifty. Gryffindor was now at 310. Still 330 points behind Slytherin.
"Third," Dumbledore's gaze landed on Harry. "To Mr. Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage... I award Gryffindor sixty points."
Harry looked up, his green eyes wide. Sixty points. Gryffindor was at 370. They had passed Hufflepuff, but were still trailing Ravenclaw and miles away from the lead.
"And finally," Dumbledore smiled at the shaking boy in the back. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
The Gryffindor table went wild. Neville looked like he was about to faint.
The total tally for Gryffindor was now 380. They had secured third place, beating Hufflepuff by a margin, but they were still 260 points behind the green and silver banners.
The Great Hall had fallen into a silence again. The Gryffindor table, having erupted for Neville, was now doing the mental arithmetic and realizing it wasn't enough. They sat at 380 points. Slytherin sat at 640. The gap was a chasm.
Orion leaned forward, his blue eyes narrowing. He watched the Headmaster closely. This was the moment. This was the stress test. Dumbledore had awarded the "Hero Points." Now, he had two choices: accept Gryffindor's loss and validate Slytherin's dominance, or invent a ludicrous reason to award another three hundred points and shatter the integrity of the school's reward system forever.
Your move, old man, Orion thought. Do you break the rules for your Golden Boy, or do you let the snakes win?
Dumbledore did not sit down. He remained standing, his hands clasped before him, looking out over the sea of students. The twinkle in his eyes had shifted; it was no longer merely mischievous. It was piercing.
"I can see the calculations occurring in your heads," Dumbledore spoke, his voice projecting effortlessly to the back of the hall. "You look at the hourglasses, and you see that despite these recent triumphs of bravery, the standings remain largely unchanged."
He walked slowly to the edge of the dais, looking first at the dejected Gryffindors, then turning his full attention to the Slytherin table.
"The House Cup," Dumbledore began softly, "is not merely a reward for the loudest deeds. It is not solely for those who slay beasts or solve riddles in the dark. It is a reflection of the daily choices made by a House. It is a measure of consistency, of discipline, and of the collective effort to better oneself and one's peers."
He gestured to the green hourglass, filled to the brim with emeralds.
"This year, Slytherin House has demonstrated something remarkable. You have shown that ambition, when tempered with discipline and cooperation, is a formidable force. You have not relied on the few to carry the many. You have risen together."
Orion felt a strange chill. Dumbledore wasn't looking at the table. He was looking at him.
"To lead is a rare gift," Dumbledore said, his voice gaining strength. "To teach one's peers, to ensure that no friend is left behind in the pursuit of knowledge, and to elevate the standard of an entire community... that is a quality of leadership that Hogwarts has not seen, especially in a First Year for a very long time."
The hall was breathless.
"Therefore," Dumbledore announced, a smile finally breaking through his serious demeanor. "I award sixty points to Mr. Orion Malfoy. For demonstrating that the greatest magic is often the ability to lift others up, and for fostering a true environment of learning within his House."
Orion froze.
He... he's pivoting.
Dumbledore wasn't awarding points to bridge the gap for Gryffindor. He was awarding points to widen it for Slytherin. He was validating Orion's strategy. He was taking Orion's "Stress Test"—the trap designed to expose Dumbledore's bias—and using it to teach the entire school a lesson about meritocracy.
"Which means," Dumbledore cried out, clapping his hands, "we need to show a brighter glow to our victors this time!"
He waved his hands. The banners above, already green, seemed to shimmer and grow brighter, the silver serpent roaring silently.
SLYTHERIN: 700 POINTS
The Slytherin table didn't just cheer; they exploded. It was a release of tension, a vindication of their hard work. Draco was screaming, hugging Crabbe. Pansy was shrieking.
But Orion sat perfectly still, staring up at the High Table.
Dumbledore caught his eye, who gave a small smile. He gave Orion a wink—acknowledging the game, and acknowledging that he had won this round by refusing to play by Orion's cynical rules.
Orion felt a sudden, heavy weight in his chest. It wasn't defeat. It was awe. He had tried to paint Dumbledore as a biased manipulator, and Dumbledore had responded by being exactly what he claimed to be: A teacher.
DING.
The sound resonated deep in Orion's mind, heavier and more significant than any before it.
[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]
Tier: 2 (Advanced)
Name: The Grandmaster's Lesson
Description: You tried to trap the Headmaster in a web of mathematics and moral bias. You expected him to cheat. Instead, he used your own logic to teach the entire school—and you—a lesson about the difference between heroism and excellence. You just realized why Albus Dumbledore is regarded as the greatest Professor history has ever seen. He didn't just beat you; he educated you. I hope the next time you challenge him, you are much better prepared.
Reward: 1x Set of Used Textbooks (Transfiguration, Charms, Defense - First & Second Year). Note: These belonged to Albus Dumbledore. They are heavily annotated.
Orion let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looked at the celebrating students, then back at the old man in the purple robes.
"Well played," Orion whispered, a genuine, humble smile touching his lips. "Well played, Professor."
The feast began to end, but Orion's mind was already racing, eager to get his hands on those textbooks. If he was going to dance with the best, he needed to learn from the master.