The sun began to dip toward the western horizon, casting the lower lawn in hues of bruised purple and gold. Orion stood at the edge of the newly minted marble basin, his Hawthorn wand raised steady in his right hand.
Filling a structure of this magnitude was not merely a matter of patience; it was an exercise in sustained magical output. A standard Aguamenti charm produced a stream of water akin to a kitchen tap—useful for filling a goblet, tedious for filling a reservoir.
"Perception," Orion reminded himself, narrowing his eyes.
He didn't visualize a tap. He visualized a river. He imagined the pressure of a broken dam, the sheer, heavy volume of water rushing to fill a void. He expanded his intent, pushing the boundaries of the spell not for velocity, but for mass.
"Aguamenti."
The water didn't trickle. It surged. A thick, clear column of water, wide as a tree trunk, erupted from the tip of his wand. It hit the marble floor of the pool with a heavy, roaring splash, spreading out rapidly.
Orion held the spell. He felt the drain on his core—a steady, rhythmic pull like a dynamo spinning. He modulated the flow, testing his limits. He pushed harder, and the stream widened into a torrent. He eased back, and it thinned to a garden hose.
"Volume control is intuitive," Orion murmured, sweat beading on his brow as the water level crept up the shallow end. "It's about aperture. Expanding the magical conduit."
It took the better part of an hour, but eventually, the water lapped against the coping stones, filling the kidney-shaped basin to the brim. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the darkening sky like a mirror.
"Done," Orion exhaled, cancelling the charm. He holstered his wand, his arm aching pleasantly.
He dipped a hand into the water. It was freezing—groundwater temperature. Uncomfortable for a leisurely swim. And without filtration, it would be a pond of algae within a week.
"Infrastructure," Orion noted. "I have the shell. I need the guts."
He turned and walked back toward the Manor, the damp grass soaking the hem of his trousers. The pool was a dark, silent eye in the garden, waiting for the final spark of civilization.
That night, Orion sat in the library, surrounded by texts on magical household charms. He quickly realized that while he could theoretically carve heating runes, the complexity of a self-regulating, filtering plumbing system was beyond his current skill level. It involved fluid dynamics, purification loops, and waste-banishing charms all woven into a physical pipe network.
"Why reinvent the wheel," Orion whispered, closing The Home Life and Social Habits of British Wizards, "when I can just buy the car?"
He summoned Dobby.
CRACK.
"Master Orion?" Dobby appeared, looking fresh despite his earlier terraforming work.
"Dobby, a logistical question," Orion asked, leaning back in his chair. "The Manor's plumbing. The baths, the sinks. Who maintains the enchantments? Do we hire a wizard, or is it... internal?"
"House-elves maintain the pipes, Master!" Dobby squeaked. "But when the runes fade, or the pipes crack from old magic, Dobby goes to the specialized shops."
"Specialized shops?"
"Oh yes, sir. Spintwitches' Supplies for the Magical Home in Diagon Alley, or The Copper Cauldron in Knockturn for the... trickier pipes. They sell the Rune-Sets."
Orion smiled. "Perfect. I don't need to be a plumber; I just need to be a project manager."
He pulled out a heavy pouch of Galleons.
"Tomorrow morning, Dobby. Around ten o'clock. I want you to go to Spintwitches. I need a complete exterior plumbing rune-set suitable for a large basin. Filtration is priority one—it needs to banish dirt, algae, and insects automatically. And I need a temperature control regulator. The heavy-duty kind used for heated greenhouses or large baths."
Dobby caught the gold, weighing it in his hand. "The Deluxe Flow-Master set! Dobby knows it! It keeps water sparkling like diamonds!"
"That's the one," Orion nodded. "Buy it. And tomorrow, install it. Can you do that without tearing up the lawn?"
"Elf magic goes through the earth, Master! The pipes will slide in like worms! No mess!"
"Excellent. Goodnight, Dobby."
"Goodnight, Master Orion!"
The next morning was bright and clear, the heat of July promising a scorching afternoon. Orion ate his breakfast quickly, ignoring Draco's complaints about a scratch on his broomstick, and headed straight for the lower lawn.
The pool was there, the water still and glassy.
CRACK.
Dobby arrived, laden with a heavy wooden crate stamped with the logo of a crossed wrench and wand.
"Dobby has the goods!" the elf announced.
Orion watched from the shade of the yew trees as Dobby went to work. It was a fascinating display of practical magic. Dobby didn't dig trenches. He simply opened the crate, levitated intricate copper pipes covered in glowing blue runes, and banished them into the ground around the pool.
The ground rippled slightly as the pipes submerged, knitting themselves into the marble lining Orion and Dobby had created yesterday.
"Filtration set!" Dobby called out, snapping his fingers.
A low hum, barely audible, emanated from the pool. The water seemed to shudder, and suddenly, a few floating leaves on the surface were sucked toward a hidden drain and vanished. The water clarity sharpened, sparkling under the sun.
"Heating runes installed in the lining!" Dobby continued, waving his hands over the water. "Connected to the master valve!"
He pointed to a small, unobtrusive copper dial embedded in the stone rim of the deep end.
"How does it work?" Orion asked, walking over.
"Voice command, Master!" Dobby demonstrated. "The runes listen. You say 'Hot' to raise the heat. You say 'Cold' to lower it. When it is perfect, you say 'Stop'. The water will hold that memory until told otherwise."
"Simple. Efficient," Orion grinned.
He stood by the edge. "Hot."
The water began to swirl gently. Steam didn't rise immediately, but Orion could feel the radiant heat coming off the surface. He dipped his hand in. It was warming up fast.
"Hot," he repeated.
It reached the temperature of a warm bath.
"Stop."
The heating hum ceased. The water settled, inviting and tepid.
"Cold," Orion tested.
The temperature dropped instantly, a chill radiating outward.
"Stop."
"Perfect," Orion beamed. "Absolute climate control. Dobby, you have outdone yourself. This is a masterpiece."
"Dobby is happy Master likes the lake-box!" Dobby bowed low, his ears flapping.
"Go rest, Dobby. You've earned the day off."
With the elf gone, Orion looked at his creation. It was a pristine rectangle of luxury hidden in the British countryside.
"Time to christen it," he decided.
He turned and jogged back to the Manor. He went to his room and dug out a pair of black trunks he had purchased via owl order along with many clothes he usually did.
He changed quickly, grabbing a towel.
He didn't walk back to the pool. He ran.
He sprinted across the lawn, the grass soft under his bare feet, the sun warm on his back. It felt... childish. It felt wonderful. For a moment, he wasn't the reincarnated schemer or the Slytherin prodigy. He was just a boy on summer vacation.
He burst through the gap in the yew trees. He didn't slow down.
He hit the marble coping, launched himself into the air, tucked his knees to his chest, and bombed into the deep end.
SPLASH.
The water engulfed him—cool, clean, and perfectly temperature-controlled. He sank to the bottom, the silence of the underwater world wrapping around him. He pushed off the marble floor and broke the surface, gasping for air and laughing.
He treaded water, slicking his wet hair back.
"Success," Orion declared to the sky.
He swam a few laps, enjoying the buoyancy, the physical exertion. He floated on his back, watching the clouds drift by.
About twenty minutes later, the sound of footsteps on the grass broke his reverie.
"Orion?"
Draco's voice was filled with confusion.
Orion treaded water, turning to look at the bank. Draco was standing there, holding his broomstick, wearing his Quidditch robes. He was staring at the pool with his mouth open.
"What... what is this?" Draco asked, gesturing at the marble basin. "You... you dug a hole?"
"It's a swimming pool, Draco," Orion said, swimming over to the edge and resting his arms on the warm stone rim. "A dedicated aquatic recreational facility."
Draco frowned, walking closer and peering into the clear water. "Like a bath? But outside? Isn't that... dirty?"
"Does this look dirty?" Orion splashed a bit of water at him. "It has runic filtration. It's cleaner than the water in your goblet at dinner. And it's heated."
"Heated?" Draco dipped a finger in. His eyes widened. "It's warm."
"It's perfect tempearature," Orion corrected. "Instead of sweating in those heavy Quidditch robes chasing imaginary Snitches, you could be floating in weightless comfort."
Draco looked at the water. He looked at his sweaty robes. He looked back at the water. The sheer luxury of it appealed to his Malfoy sensibilities. It was exclusive. It was grand. And it looked incredibly relaxing.
"A swimming pool," Draco tested the word. "The Muggles use these?"
"Rich Muggles," Orion lied (partially). "Kings. Emperors. It's a sign of status, Draco. Having a private body of water solely for leisure? That is the height of opulence."
That sold it. The "Status" keyword triggered Draco's programming.
"I'm changing clothes," Draco announced, dropping his broom on the grass.
"Run," Orion advised. "The water is fine."
Draco bolted for the house.
Orion leaned back, floating again. He closed his eyes, listening to the hum of the filtration runes.
"Achievement Pending: The Summer Resort Tycoon," Sparkle whispered.
"Just wait until I install the diving board," Orion smirked. "Summers are going to be just fine."