The walk from the Slytherin dungeons to the Great Hall was remarkably peaceful. The oppressive silence that had choked the castle since Halloween seemed to have lifted slightly, replaced by a frantic, nervous energy that hummed through the very stones.
Orion pushed open the heavy oak doors, stepping into the massive, sunlit room halfway through the lunch period.
The moment his dragon-hide boots hit the flagstones, the ambient noise in the hall dropped by a solid decibel. Dozens of heads swiveled in his direction. Ravenclaws paused mid-bite of their sandwiches. Hufflepuffs whispered furiously to their neighbors. Even the few Gryffindors present stared openly, their expressions a mixture of awe, suspicion, and profound confusion.
Ah, Orion thought, maintaining a perfectly relaxed, unbothered posture as he walked down the aisle. The rumor mill has clearly been operating at peak efficiency. Or Dumbledore decided to skip the suspense and tell them everything over breakfast.
He didn't get halfway to his seat before he was intercepted. A small, wide-eyed first-year Slytherin boy practically darted into his path, pointing a trembling finger toward the High Table.
"M-Malfoy," the boy squeaked, looking as though he expected Orion to turn him into a toad. "Professor Snape is calling you."
Orion paused, his blue eyes flicking toward the staff table. Severus Snape was indeed watching him, his expression a dark, unreadable mask, one pale hand resting on the polished wood.
Orion offered the terrified first-year a curt nod. "Thank you."
He altered his course, striding confidently up the length of the hall. He could feel the eyes of the student body tracking his every movement. He ignored them completely.
"Professor," Orion greeted smoothly as he reached the High Table.
Snape didn't offer a pleasantry. He simply stared at the twelve-year-old, his black eyes searching Orion's face for any sign of the previous night's trauma.
"Did you have a good sleep, Orion?" Snape asked softly, his tone laced with a dangerous silkiness. "Your expression suggests you are... upset."
Orion didn't break eye contact. He offered a tight, perfectly controlled smile. "Nothing of the sort, Professor. I merely had vivid dreams of enormous, venomous snakes wrapping themselves around my chest and choking the life out of me while I slept. But please, don't worry about my delicate sensibilities."
Snape's lip twitched—a microscopic movement that could have been a grimace or a suppressed smirk. The sarcasm was a defense mechanism he recognized intimately.
"Have the harvesters arrived, sir?" Orion continued, changing the subject with business-like efficiency.
"The harvesting team will be arriving in the early evening," Snape replied, his voice dropping so only Orion could hear. "Apparently, the Minister of Magic has graced us with his presence. Fudge is currently discussing 'bureaucratic details' with Madam Bones and the Headmaster up in his office."
Snape's sneer deepened at the mention of the Minister. "He is likely attempting to spin this disaster into a triumph of Ministry oversight."
Orion nodded slowly, processing the political landscape. Fudge is here to claim credit for killing a myth.
"Furthermore," Snape added, his eyes drifting pointedly toward the empty seats at the Gryffindor table, "while you have awoken and presented yourself, Mr. Potter has yet to grace us with his presence. And without His Highness's vocal assistance, re-entering the Chamber is physically impossible."
"I am sure the sheer exhaustion of watching competent adults handle a crisis has taken its toll on his constitution," Orion drawled.
He looked back at his Head of House, his expression turning sharp and calculating. "Will I be permitted to enter the Chamber when the harvesting begins, Professor? I have... specific demands regarding my share of the spoils. I want to ensure my requests are logged directly with the Ministry team."
Snape held his gaze for a long moment. He understood exactly what Orion was doing. The boy was ensuring he got his cut of the prize before the Ministry bureaucrats cataloged it all away into the Department of Mysteries.
"Then it would be best if you join the meeting with the Headmaster after lunch," Snape decided, his tone final. "I will escort you. After all, I, too, wish to have significant input regarding the allocation of the... rarer ingredients."
Orion inclined his head. "A mutually beneficial arrangement, sir."
"Best have your lunch, Orion," Snape dismissed him, turning back to his own plate.
Orion turned and walked back down the steps to the Slytherin table. He was received not just as a student, but as a conquering hero.
The moment he sat down, the space around him seemed to shrink as older and younger students alike leaned in, their eyes wide with predatory curiosity.
Draco practically lunged across the table, grabbing Orion's sleeve. "Did you really enter the Chamber of Secrets?!" Draco hissed, his voice trembling with a mixture of intense jealousy and manic excitement. "Tell me!"
"Yes, Draco," Orion said calmly, pouring himself a cup of pumpkin juice and ignoring the collective gasp that rippled down the table. "I did."
A seventh-year prefect, usually aloof and disdainful of the younger years, stared at Orion with unabashed shock. "A Slytherin entering the fabled Chamber... a second-year, to boot. It's unbelievable."
"The Headmaster addressed the school this morning," Pansy Parkinson whispered breathlessly, her dark eyes practically shining as she leaned closer. "He told everyone that the Chamber of Secrets had been found, and the monster within it defeated by Ministry Aurors. He said the school is safe."
"He didn't mention any names, though," Theodore Nott observed quietly from across the table, his sharp eyes analyzing Orion's demeanor.
"He didn't have to," Millicent Bulstrode grunted, chewing aggressively on a piece of bread. "Hagrid was in the Hospital Wing this morning, for whatever reason. He was crying so loud you could hear him in the corridors. He was telling Madam Pomfrey how 'little Orion Malfoy and Harry Potter saved the day, bless their brave little hearts'."
Orion winced slightly at the phrasing, taking a long sip of his juice. Of course Hagrid broadcasted it. Subtlety is not in the half-giant's vocabulary. Must have been too happy that his Acromantula won't get blamed for any more deaths now.
But the damage was done. The rumor mill had latched onto the truth, fueled by the heavy, undeniable presence of Ministry Aurors still patrolling the Entrance Hall. The student body knew this wasn't a prank or an exaggeration. It was hard, terrifying fact.
And because of it, Orion Malfoy's reputation had transcended 'academic prodigy'. He was now something mythical—the boy who walked into the lair of Salazar Slytherin's monster and walked out.
He finished his lunch in relative silence, ignoring the barrage of questions from Draco about the size of the beast and the nature of the traps. He ate methodically, his mind already reviewing the negotiation tactics he would need to employ against Cornelius Fudge and Amelia Bones.
When his plate was clean, Orion stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"Where are you going?" Draco demanded, looking affronted that his prime source of gossip was leaving. "You haven't told us anything! What did it look like?"
"I have a meeting, Draco," Orion said smoothly, adjusting his collar. He looked down at his twin with a faint, enigmatic smile. "I have some unfinished business to attend to. See you."
He turned and walked away from the table, leaving a trail of stunned silence in his wake. The murmurs erupted the second he was out of earshot, but Orion didn't care.
He had a negotiation to win, a very expensive acquisition list to finalize, and a meeting with the Minister of Magic. The afternoon was shaping up to be far more dangerous than the Basilisk itself.