The silence in the Headmaster's office was absolute, vibrating with the sudden, shocking impact of a twelve-year-old boy publicly dismantling the ego of a high-ranking Ministry official.
The woman in the pink cardigan drew herself up to her full, unimpressive height. Her pouchy eyes bulged, and her face turned a shade of mottled crimson that clashed violently with her velvet bow.
"I am Dolores Umbridge!" she shrieked, her breathy, girlish voice losing all semblance of control, dropping into a harsh, furious screech. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic! You will show some respect, you insolent, arrogant little—!"
"Undersecretary," Orion murmured softly, tilting his head slightly, his expression one of profound, analytical confusion. He let the word hang in the air for a long, agonizing moment.
He looked her up and down once more, his blue eyes cold and flat.
"Never heard of you."
Before Umbridge could draw her breath for a second, undoubtedly more explosive tirade, Orion turned his back on her completely. He faced Cornelius Fudge, his expression shifting seamlessly from blank disdain to polite, genuine sympathy.
"My sincerest condolences, Minister," Orion said smoothly, his voice carrying clearly across the room. "If this woman is indeed your Senior Undersecretary, I must confess my profound shock at the lack of professionalism."
Fudge blinked, his lime-green bowler hat clutched tightly in his hands. "I... what?"
"To so severely interrupt a conversation involving the Minister himself," Orion elaborated, his tone dripping with aristocratic concern. "To repeatedly attempt to undermine your authority in a room filled with prominent educators and the Head of the DMLE, despite being your... what is the term? Underling?"
Orion sighed softly, shaking his head.
"My father always speaks of the respect the office of the Minister commands," Orion lied flawlessly. "I do hope that no one else in your administration is as flagrantly rude to you as this woman currently is. It sets a rather poor precedent for Ministry decorum."
The color drained rapidly from Fudge's face, only to be replaced by a frantic, nervous flush. He looked from the composed, wealthy heir of one of his biggest political donors to the furious, spluttering form of his Senior Undersecretary. The choice, for a man built entirely of jelly and ambition, was simple.
Umbridge opened her mouth, her wand twitching in her pocket. "How dare you—!"
"Dolores!" Fudge snapped, his voice unusually sharp, cutting her off instantly.
He turned to Orion, offering a strained, sweaty smile, desperate to placate the boy and, by extension, the Malfoy fortune.
"It is a mere misunderstanding, Orion, my boy! A simple miscommunication! She certainly did not mean any disrespect to the office, or to any of us, for that matter!" Fudge stammered, wiping his brow with a handkerchief. He shot a frantic, pleading look at Umbridge. "Please, Dolores. I must request that you remain quiet and allow me to conduct this debriefing."
Umbridge's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Her wide, toad-like face contorted in a silent scream of fury, but she didn't dare contradict the Minister in front of Dumbledore and Amelia Bones. She crossed her short, stubby arms over her pink cardigan and glared at Orion with a hatred so pure it practically vibrated.
Orion ignored her entirely. The threat was neutralized.
"With that unfortunate distraction out of the way," Orion said, turning his attention back to the central group, his voice returning to a crisp, business-like cadence. "Since we will only be discussing the specifics of the harvesting operation after the specialized team arrives... I take it we will be having that discussion down inside the Chamber itself?"
Amelia Bones, who looked as though she was trying very hard not to smile, nodded briskly. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. The tactical assessment and the initial rendering of the carcass must be done on-site. The environment is secure."
"Excellent," Orion smiled, a polite, disarming expression. He turned to face Dumbledore. "In that case, Headmaster, I have a rather... childish request."
Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles, his eyes twinkling brightly with suppressed mirth. "A childish request from you, Orion? I am intrigued. Please, ask."
"I would like to request permission for my brother, Draco, to accompany me down into the Chamber during the initial inspection," Orion asked, his voice softening into a perfect imitation of brotherly affection.
Snape's head snapped toward him, his dark eyes narrowing in instant suspicion.
"Draco," Orion explained, gesturing vaguely with a hand, "is incredibly enthusiastic about anything relating to our House's history. And since the Basilisk threat has been completely nullified by Madam Bones's team, the area is merely a historical site now."
Orion offered a small, hopeful bow.
"I would like to take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to allow my brother to visit the very place where Salazar Slytherin himself once walked. It would mean the world to him."
Dumbledore stroked his silver beard, considering the request. He looked at Amelia, who shrugged slightly, indicating it was a school matter now that the danger was past.
"It is a highly unusual request, Orion," Dumbledore murmured, his gaze resting thoughtfully on the boy. "The Chamber, despite being secure, is still a scene of significant dark magic."
He smiled faintly. "Very well. I will grant your request. Though I sincerely hope you do not intend to bring the entire Slytherin House down for a field trip. It will remain a restricted area, and no one else will be permitted entry unless explicitly allowed by myself or Professor McGonagall."
"Of course not, sir," Orion agreed instantly. "Only my brother. Thank you, Headmaster."
He turned to his Head of House, offering a respectful nod. "If that is all, Professor Snape? I believe I should find Draco and prepare him. I will join you when it is time to leave for the Chamber."
"Indeed," Snape said, his voice clipped. "Wait for me in the Entrance Hall."
Orion bowed once more to the room at large—studiously ignoring the pink toad glaring at him from the corner—and exited the office, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him.
Snape followed a moment later, his black robes billowing as he caught up to Orion on the spiraling stairs. The Potions Master didn't speak until they had stepped off the gargoyle and were walking down the corridor.
"What in the name of Merlin are you playing at, Orion?" Snape hissed, grabbing Orion by the upper arm and dragging him into a shadowed alcove. "Draco? Down in the Chamber? That boy has absolutely zero intellectual interest in history, and you know it."
Snape glared down at him. "He will use this excursion for nothing but endless, insufferable boasting. He will spend the entire remaining year and the next, bragging about being the only Slytherin besides you to visit the Founder's lair."
Orion didn't flinch under the grip or the glare. He met Snape's fury with a calm, calculating smirk.
"I am perfectly aware of that, Professor," Orion replied softly, smoothing his sleeve where Snape held it.
"Then why request his presence?"
"Because," Orion sighed, leaning back against the cold stone wall, "the rumor mill is currently churning at maximum capacity. Half the school knows I was in the Chamber last night. The moment I step foot in the Great Hall again, I am going to be hounded. Students, prefects, ghosts... they all want to know what happened. They want to ask questions."
Orion's eyes glinted with cold, pragmatic logic.
"I despise being interrogated by idiots. But Draco? Draco thrives on it. He breathes for attention."
He looked up at his godfather.
"Once I take Draco down there, he will see the dead snake. He will see the statues. And the moment he returns to the common room, he will become the loudest, most obnoxious distraction in the history of Hogwarts. He will claim the narrative. He will attract every single ounce of attention, every question, and every rumor."
Orion smiled, a slow, brilliant, entirely Slytherin expression.
"He will be my decoy. He will absorb the spotlight, allowing me to be completely free from the hounding. I can return to my studies in peace while he exhausts himself being a celebrity."
Snape stared at the twelve-year-old boy. The sheer, manipulative elegance of using his own brother's worst character flaws as a social shield was breathtaking.
Snape let go of Orion's arm, his lip curling in a mixture of profound exasperation and undeniable, dark approval.
"You," Snape murmured, shaking his head slowly, "are a menace. An absolute, calculating menace."
"I am merely efficient, Professor," Orion corrected, adjusting his collar. "Besides, it doesn't harm anyone, does it? Draco gets his glory, I get my peace and quiet, and you don't have to listen to him whine about missing out."
Snape closed his eyes for a brief second, as if praying for patience. "Go find your brother, Orion. Be in the Entrance Hall at two o'clock sharp. And do try not to insult any more high-ranking Ministry officials on the way."
"I make no promises, Uncle Sev."
Orion turned and walked briskly toward the dungeons, leaving a very tired Potions Master in the shadows.