The crowd inside Flourish and Blotts was a suffocating crush of witches, wizards, and frantic energy. Gilderoy Lockhart was flashing his blindingly white teeth for the Daily Prophet photographer, while a small army of weary clerks tried to manage the stacks of Magical Me.
Orion stood near the back, safely away from the perfume-drenched chaos of the signing table. He watched with mild amusement as Mrs. Weasley fussed over her children, her face flushed with excitement at seeing the celebrity author.
Then, the atmosphere shifted.
Near the entrance, two figures collided. The air grew instantly colder as Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley came face-to-face.
"Arthur," Lucius sneered, his voice dripping with disdain as he picked up a battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration from Ginny Weasley's cauldron. "Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime."
Arthur's face turned a shade of red that matched his hair. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."
"Clearly," Lucius glanced at Hermione's parents standing nervously nearby. " The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower."
There was a metallic clang as Ginny's cauldron was shoved. Arthur Weasley lunged.
Orion raised an eyebrow as his father—the epitome of pureblood composure and dignity—dropped his cane and threw a right hook.
Books tumbled. A shelf rattled. A witch screamed. Hagrid began wading through the crowd like an icebreaker through a frozen sea.
"Wizards brawling like Muggles," Orion murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. "Fascinating. The biological imperative to punch someone in the face truly transcends magical ability."
He strolled casually toward the center of the conflict, completely ignoring the stunned expressions of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were watching the adults fight with wide eyes.
Orion stopped next to Draco, who looked torn between cheering his father on and dying of embarrassment.
"Do you have the books, Draco?" Orion asked calmly, as if they were discussing the weather and not a fistfight occurring three feet away.
"What?" Draco blinked, tearing his eyes away from Lucius, who had just been shoved into a display of Voyages with Vampires. "Uh, yes. Two sets. Father paid."
"Excellent," Orion nodded. "Then let's go. We should extract him before Father decides to utilize a chokeslam on Mr. Weasley. Poor Arthur wouldn't have the spinal integrity for that, and I'd rather not spend the afternoon giving statements to the Hit Wizards."
He looked at the Gryffindors. "Potter. Weasley. Granger. Enjoy the show."
Orion stepped forward just as Hagrid pulled the two men apart. Lucius was breathing hard, his hair slightly askew. He thrust Ginny's book back into her cauldron with a little more force than necessary.
"Here, girl," Lucius spat, his eyes cold and hard. "Take your book. It's the best your father can give you."
Orion's eyes narrowed. He saw the movement. It was subtle—a sleight of hand worthy of a magician. A small, thin, black leather diary had been sandwiched between the pages of the Transfiguration guide.
Thus begins, Orion thought. The Chamber of Secrets.
"Come, Draco. Orion," Lucius commanded, sweeping out of the shop, brushing imaginary dust from his robes. Narcissa met them outside, looking pointedly away from the shop window, her expression one of long-suffering patience.
"That man," Lucius muttered as they walked down the cobbled street, adjusting his collar. "A disgrace to the blood. A blood traitor of the highest order."
"He certainly has a strong right hook for a civil servant," Orion commented dryly.
Lucius shot him a glare, but said nothing. He composed himself, taking a deep breath.
"Well," Lucius said, regaining his haughty demeanor. "We have the books. And the supplies."
"And the brooms," Draco piped up, his mood instantly recovering. He looked at Orion with a grin. "Father booked the order at Quality Quidditch Supplies. Seven Nimbus 2001s. They'll be delivered to the school directly. No way we are losing the Cup this year. Potter won't even see me moving."
"A generous contribution," Orion nodded. "The team will be pleased."
Lucius stopped walking. They were near the intersection of Diagon and Knockturn Alley. He turned to look at his second son.
"I have fulfilled Draco's request," Lucius stated, tapping his cane on the stones. "It was... substantial. But fair. Now, Orion. You deferred your choice earlier. Have you reached a decision? What is it you desire?"
Orion smiled. It was a sharp, predatory smile that made Draco take a small step back.
"I have, Father," Orion said. "Follow me."
Ten minutes later, the Malfoy family stood inside the cramped, noisy, and distinctly smelly interior of the Magical Menagerie.
Toads croaked from tanks. Cats hissed from cages. Giant orange snails oozed along the glass counters.
But Lucius Malfoy wasn't looking at the snails. He was locked in a staring contest.
On the counter, inside a reinforced cage with double-locking mechanisms and a sign that read Warning: Keep all Jewelry at a Safe Distance, sat a creature.
It was small, covered in fluffy black fur, and possessed a long, inquisitive snout. Its small, beady eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the diamond clasp of Lucius's cloak. It had its paws pressed against the bars, looking like a furry inmate planning a jailbreak.
A Niffler.
Lucius glared at the beast. The Niffler glared back, then slowly, deliberately, reached out a paw and made a "gimme" motion toward the diamond.
"Orion," Lucius said, his voice tight. "When I told you to choose a gift... when I said 'substantial'... I was implying a rare book. A powerful artifact. Perhaps a share in a business venture."
He gestured wildly at the cage with his cane.
"I was not implying a creature that is essentially a furry, uncontrollable demolition crew."
"It's cute," Orion observed, leaning closer to the cage. The Niffler shifted its gaze to Orion's silver watch, sniffing the air.
"It is a menace!" Lucius hissed. "Do you have any idea what a Niffler does to a house like ours? Malfoy Manor is filled with gold, silver, and heirlooms! It will burrow through the floorboards! It will eat the chandeliers! It will undermine the very foundations of the estate trying to get to the family vault!"
"The shopkeeper says he is very well behaved," Orion lied.
"The shopkeeper wants to get rid of it because it probably ate his profits!" Lucius countered. "Orion, be reasonable. A Crup? Fine. A Kneazle? Acceptable. But this... this is inviting a thief into our home. The cost of buying it is five Galleons. The cost of maintaining the damages it will cause will be thousands!"
Narcissa looked at the creature. "It does look... rather singularly focused, Orion."
Orion stood his ground. He didn't look at the Niffler as a pet. He looked at it as a tool.
With his All-Speak ability, this wasn't just a chaotic animal. It was an operative. He could talk to it. He could bargain with it. He could tell it exactly what to steal and what to leave alone. He could unleash it in Dumbledore's office, or the Gryffindor common room, or Gringotts, and tell it to retrieve specific items.
It was a gold-seeking missile that listened to orders—if you spoke its language.
But he couldn't tell Lucius that.
"I want it," Orion said simply, crossing his arms. "You promised, Father. 'Any thing desired, within reason.'"
"This is not within reason!" Lucius sputtered. "It is a walking disaster!"
"I will train it," Orion promised. "I will keep it in my trunk habitat. It won't touch the Manor's gold. I take full responsibility."
Lucius looked at his son. He looked at the stubborn set of Orion's jaw—a look he had inherited from the Blacks. He looked at the Niffler, which was now trying to pick the lock of its cage with a single claw.
Lucius sighed, a sound of profound defeat.
"If it eats the peacocks' golden water bowls," Lucius warned, pointing a gloved finger at Orion, "I am turning it into a pair of slippers. And you will wear them."
"Deal," Orion grinned.
He turned to the shopkeeper. "We'll take him."
As the shopkeeper hurried to box the creature up—wearing thick protective gloves—Orion leaned in close to the cage.
"Hello, little thief," Orion whispered. The words came out as English to his family, but to the Niffler, it was the clear, chirping language of its kind. "You and I are going to be very rich friends."
The Niffler froze. It looked at Orion, its head tilting. It let out a soft, surprised squeak.
"Shinies?" the Niffler chirped back.
"All the shinies," Orion promised.
He stood up, turning to his father with a beatific smile.
"A birthday gift is a birthday gift, Father. Thank you."
Lucius just groaned and massaged his temples. "I need a drink."