Orion held Flitwick's gaze, the silence in the office profound. He didn't offer a smirk. He didn't offer the usual Slytherin arrogance. He looked at the tiny Charms Master with absolute, cold sincerity.
"I chose not to come to you, Professor," Orion began, his voice low and carrying the weight of unvarnished truth, "because, as Miss Lovegood correctly surmised, you could not have fixed it."
Flitwick flinched slightly, the words striking a nerve. "That is a harsh assessment, Mr. Malfoy."
"It is a pragmatic one," Orion corrected gently. "I did consider coming to you first. But I digressed, primarily because I had no proof. I didn't know exactly how the bullying was happening, other than the symptoms. And more importantly, I was not aware of exactly who was involved, or how many were participating in the harassment."
Orion leaned back, spreading his hands.
"If I had come to you with a vague complaint that the entire Ravenclaw house—or at least a significant portion of it—was bullying a single, eccentric first-year girl... would you have believed me? Or even if Professor Dumbledore had suggested it? It sounds far-fetched. A conspiracy of cruelty within the House of the Wise."
Flitwick looked down at his desk, his shoulders slumping. He couldn't deny the logic. A house wide conspiracy of bullying was a bitter pill to swallow.
"Honestly, Professor," Orion continued, his tone shifting from analytical to slightly defensive. "I am not the kind of person to take matters into my own hands recklessly. I am not a Gryffindor who bursts into the Ravenclaw dormitory, wands blazing, demanding justice and causing a scene."
He gestured to the crumpled 'Secret Admirer' letter.
"I simply wanted to know who was bullying Luna. And most importantly, I wanted the members of Ravenclaw themselves to come forward and reveal the details of this bullying. To confess."
Orion's eyes glinted with a cold, strategic light.
"And that is exactly what happened. I didn't accuse anyone. I just applied pressure. Once the pressure of the 'Secret Admirer' and the mass thefts was built to an intolerable level, they broke. They confessed."
He leaned forward again, tapping the desk softly.
"And now, Professor, you have the exact details. You know how an entire house was, in some way or another, either directly participating or indirectly complicit in the bullying of a first-year girl simply because she is 'different'. A single shoe theft here, a sweater going missing there... it would never have reached your desk. It would have been dismissed as carelessness or a minor prank."
The silence stretched again. Flitwick looked at the boy, the sheer, calculating brilliance of the plan laying bare the systemic failure of his own House. It was a terrifyingly efficient piece of social engineering.
"It was never my intention to harm anyone," Orion stated, his voice firm and unwavering. "Or to exact any kind of physical justice upon them. That call—the call for giving punishments, for setting the rules—lies entirely with the professors. And with Luna herself, as she is the one who has been dealing with this kind of isolation for the entirety of the year."
Orion stood up slowly, smoothing his robes.
"However," Orion concluded, looking down at his Head of House's colleague. "The method I used to bring this rot out into the light... I do not regret it."
Flitwick remained seated, staring at the letters on his desk. He looked small, incredibly tired, and profoundly sad.
For a long minute, he didn't speak. He processed the harsh truth that a twelve-year-old Slytherin had protected one of his own students more effectively than he had.
Finally, Flitwick let out a long, shuddering sigh. He reached out and swept the 'Secret Admirer' letter and Orion's essay into a drawer, closing it with a definitive snap.
"Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick said softly, not looking up immediately. "You may leave."
Orion paused, surprised by the abrupt dismissal. "Professor?"
Flitwick looked up, his eyes meeting Orion's. There was no anger there. There was only a quiet, exhausted gratitude.
"From this point forward," Flitwick stated, his voice steadying into its usual professional tone, "I am still not aware of who is behind these... theatrical acts. Therefore, you will not be a suspect in any official capacity. This conversation we just had was simply about your exceptional progress in your studies."
Orion blinked. He hadn't expected complete amnesty.
"However," Flitwick added, his tone sharpening just a fraction. "I must ask that you instruct your... operative... to cease these activities immediately. The point has been made. The pressure has been applied."
"Of course, Professor," Orion agreed instantly. "The operation is concluded."
"Good," Flitwick nodded. "I will have one of the Hogwarts house-elves look after Miss Lovegood's belongings from now on. Not to repeat your rather dramatic plans, but to actually try and see if anyone still decides to steal her items. If they do... they will be caught. And they will be punished accordingly."
The finality in the Charms Master's voice was absolute. The Nargles were officially exterminated.
"Thank you, Professor," Orion offered a deep, genuine bow. "For your understanding."
"Good evening, Orion," Flitwick replied, turning his attention to a stack of unmarked essays, signaling the end of the meeting.
Orion turned and walked out of the office, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
He stood in the corridor for a moment, the adrenaline of the confrontation slowly ebbing away. He had faced the music, and he had walked away without a single point deducted or a detention served.
"I am genuinely impressed," Sparkle's voice buzzed in his ear, her interface glowing a warm, approving gold. "You out-maneuvered a Head of House with pure, unadulterated logic. You turned a vigilante terror campaign into a civic service."
"I just pointed out the flaws in the system," Orion muttered, heading toward the stairs. "And I gave him the tool to fix it."
"And Dumbledore?"
Orion's steps faltered for a second.
"Dumbledore is playing a very deep game," Orion murmured, his brow furrowing. "He knew it was an elf. He knew it was me. And he did nothing. He just watched to see how far I would take it."
"He's testing your morality," Sparkle suggested.
"He's testing my restraint," Orion corrected. "He wanted to see if I would hurt them. When I didn't—when I just scared them into confessing—he let Flitwick handle the aftermath."
He descended into the gloom of the dungeons, a new, complex layer of understanding settling over his perception of the Headmaster. Dumbledore wasn't just a powerful wizard; he was a master observer. He didn't react to every symptom; he watched for the disease.
"I need to be careful," Orion whispered to the empty stone walls as he reached the Slytherin entrance. "He sees more than he lets on. Much more."