The warm, Earl Grey-scented atmosphere of the headmaster's office vanished instantly, replaced by the sharp, metallic tang of bureaucratic warfare.
Professor Snape had stepped fully out of the shadows, his black eyes fixed on Amelia Bones with a predatory intensity that had nothing to do with dark magic and everything to do with potion ingredients.
"I believe," Snape continued, his voice a dangerous, silken purr, "I recalled you mentioning the harvesting of the Basilisk specimen tomorrow morning, Madam Bones?"
Amelia set her teacup down with a sharp clack that echoed in the sudden silence. Her monocle glinted as she met the Potions Master's gaze, her posture instantly shifting from weary relief to administrative granite.
"Yes, Severus," Amelia stated, her tone brisk and unyielding. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement dispatched the beast. Therefore, the rights to its harvesting and the subsequent disposal or allocation of its remains fall squarely under the jurisdiction of the DMLE."
Snape let out a derisive, scoffing snort that sounded like tearing silk.
"The beast," Snape countered, taking a slow step toward the center of the room, "has resided within the bedrock of this castle for a millennium. It is the legendary serpent of Salazar Slytherin. By any historical and magical precedent, it is the property of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"It is a Class XXXXX dark creature that was actively hunting students, Severus," Amelia shot back, standing up. "It lost its status as 'school property' the moment it petrified a child. It is a terminated threat, handled by Ministry personnel."
"Ministry personnel who would still be wandering the plumbing blindly if not for the intelligence gathered by my House," Snape hissed, gesturing sharply toward Orion. "The venom alone is priceless. The hide is impervious to most spells. To suggest that the Ministry simply confiscate a millennia-old alchemical goldmine is an insult to the institution."
"Severus!" Professor McGonagall snapped, rising from her own chair, her face flushed with righteous indignation. "We have just survived a lethal encounter beneath the school, and you are already bickering like a Knockturn Alley haggler over the carcass? The safety of the students was the priority, not restocking your private stores!"
"My private stores benefit the school, Minerva," Snape snarled, rounding on the Deputy Headmistress. "Would you rather the Ministry auction off Basilisk fangs to the highest bidder while our own infirmary lacks the rarest antivenoms?"
The argument escalated rapidly, the tension in the room thickening as the two Heads of House clashed with each other and the Head of the DMLE over the legalities of a dead monster.
Albus Dumbledore raised a single, calming hand.
The gesture, simple as it was, carried the weight of a century of authority. The arguing ceased, though Snape's chest was still heaving slightly with suppressed fury.
"Let us consult the law, rather than our tempers," Dumbledore said mildly, his blue eyes moving between Snape and Amelia. "The established legal precedent regarding a rogue, Class XXXXX beast is quite clear. When such a creature falls outside of a designated reserve, the rights to its remains belong primarily to the entity that delivered the killing blow."
A short, loud, entirely unapologetic snort erupted from the corner of the room.
Orion Malfoy was leaning back in his chair, swirling the last dregs of his tea, a wicked smirk playing on his lips.
"Well," Orion drawled, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "The rooster just became the wealthiest bird in Britain, then. Perhaps It can use the funds to build itself a solid gold coop."
Harry Potter actually let out a startled, choked laugh, quickly covering his mouth with his hand. Even McGonagall's lips twitched violently before she clamped them shut.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled fiercely, though he maintained his serious demeanor.
"Ignoring Mr. Malfoy's astute observation regarding avian inheritance laws," Dumbledore continued smoothly, "the fact remains that it was a joint operation. I do hope, Amelia, that the Ministry will at least spare a few parts for the school's benefit. Be it for the study of ancient biology, the stocking of the Hospital Wing, or... whatever other academic pursuits might require them."
He looked pointedly at Snape, a silent promise of future access.
Amelia Bones sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The adrenaline crash was making her head pound, and arguing with Dumbledore was always a losing battle of attrition.
"The Basilisk harvest will be conducted according to standard Ministry procedure," Amelia conceded, her voice tired but firm. "There will be shares allocated for all key members involved in the neutralization of the threat. This includes the Hogwarts staff present."
She glanced over at the two boys sitting on the sofas.
"In fact, legally, even Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy fall into the category of active combatants, given their spellcasting during the engagement as well as their contribution to the discovery of the Basilisk itself. They are entitled to a portion of the harvest."
Orion's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected to get paid in monster parts for tossing a few birds and casting a localized megaphone charm. A Basilisk fang or a square foot of scale-hide was worth more than his entire allowance. A highly profitable evening, he noted mentally.
"However," Amelia finished, her monocle glinting dangerously at Snape, "sole ownership by Hogwarts is out of the question. The Ministry will oversee the primary distribution. Is that understood?"
Snape offered a stiff, incredibly reluctant nod. It wasn't everything he wanted, but a share of a thousand-year-old Basilisk was better than nothing.
The heavy oak door of the office swung open, and Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped back into the room. He looked grave, but the immediate crisis had passed.
"Madam Bones," Kingsley rumbled, his deep voice filling the space. "The aurors stationed at perimeter of the school have been removed. I have stationed the trainee Aurors on rotating guard duty at the entrance to the second-floor lavatory. The rest of the Hit Wizards and Curse Breakers have been moved to St. Mungo's for standard post-combat magical decontamination and checkups."
"Excellent, Kingsley," Amelia nodded, standing up and smoothing her dark cloak. "Then we can leave. We must proceed to St. Mungo's as well; I need to personally check on the status of our injured man."
She turned to Dumbledore, offering a respectful nod. "Albus. A difficult night, but a successful one."
"Thank you again, Amelia," Dumbledore replied warmly.
Amelia, Kingsley, and the remaining members of her team moved to the fireplace. With a roar of emerald flames, the Ministry presence vanished from the Headmaster's office, leaving the Hogwarts contingent alone in the sudden quiet.
Dumbledore let out a long, slow breath, sinking back into his high-backed chair. He looked incredibly old for a moment, the weight of the night finally settling on his shoulders.
"Orion. Harry," Dumbledore said gently, looking at the two exhausted boys. "You should both go and sleep. The adrenaline has carried you far, but the body requires rest."
He offered a small, reassuring smile.
"There is no need to attend your morning lectures tomorrow. Sleep well. I will be announcing a 'No Lecture Day' for the entire school tomorrow at breakfast, as the Ministry harvesting team will be arriving shortly thereafter, and I prefer the student body remains clear of the corridors during the operation."
Harry nodded mutely, still looking overwhelmed by the sheer scale of what he had just survived.
Dumbledore turned his gaze back to Harry. "We might need your help again tomorrow morning, Harry, to open the chamber for the harvesting team. I hope you will be well enough to assist."
"Yes, Professor," Harry murmured.
"Good," Dumbledore nodded. "Filius, if you would be so kind as to escort Harry back to Gryffindor Tower? And Pomona, please drop Orion at the Slytherin dungeons."
Professor Sprout beamed, patting Orion's shoulder. "Come along, Orion. You've had quite enough excitement for one year."
"Goodnight, Headmaster. Professors," Orion said politely, standing up and following the Herbology professor toward the door.
As he reached the threshold, Orion heard Dumbledore's voice drop into a much more serious, private register.
"Severus. Minerva," Dumbledore commanded softly. "Stay. We need to talk about the recent events."
Orion paused for a fraction of a second, his keen eyes catching the way Dumbledore looked at Snape—a look laden with unspoken questions and a demand for absolute honesty.
The door clicked shut behind Orion, cutting off the conversation.
As he walked down the spiral staircase, the blue interface of his system flared to life in the darkness of his mind.
"You survived the boss fight, secured the loot rights, and got a free day off school," Sparkle cheered. "Not a bad haul for a Tuesday night. What's next on the agenda, mastermind?"