The heavy, pickled atmosphere of Snape's office slowly began to dissipate as the conversation drifted away from the immediate, visceral terror of the Chamber and toward the familiar, structured complaints of Hogwarts bureaucracy.
Lucius Malfoy, having successfully planted his seeds of misdirection—however clumsily they had been met by Orion's logic—seemed eager to depart the damp dungeon. The tension lines around his mouth were smoothing out, replaced by his usual, aristocratic mask of control.
"Very well," Lucius concluded. "We must not overstay our welcome, Severus. The Board of Governors requires my immediate attention. There are... inquiries to be made regarding the Headmaster's handling of this entire affair. A localized lockdown is entirely insufficient for a Class XXXXX breach."
Narcissa stepped forward, her elegant composure fully restored, though her blue eyes still held a lingering, fierce protectiveness as she looked at her sons.
"We shall leave you to your studies," she said softly, her gaze resting warmly on Orion. "I will wait for you both to return for the summer vacation. Try to stay out of the plumbing until then."
"We will endeavor to remain firmly above ground, Mother," Orion promised with a polite nod.
"Before you go, Father," Orion added smoothly, a genuine, albeit wicked, spark of amusement lighting his eyes. "I highly suggest having those Daily Prophet clippings from this morning framed. They would look quite dashing hung up in the drawing room, perhaps right next to the portrait of Grandfather Abraxas. A testament to the modern Malfoy legacy."
Lucius paused, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his face. The idea of immortalizing the Boy Who Lived's defeat at the hands of a Malfoy, in clear view of audience, was an intoxicating prospect.
"An excellent suggestion, Orion," Lucius agreed, his voice regaining its usual arrogant purr. "I shall see to it personally."
With final, crisp nods of farewell to Professor Snape, Lucius and Narcissa stepped toward the hearth. Lucius tossed the Floo powder into the grate, the green flames roaring to life, and they vanished, returning to the sanctuary of the Manor.
Snape turned to the twins, his black eyes flat and unreadable. "Get back to your common room. And do not make me regret my leniency this evening."
Orion and Draco didn't hesitate. They exited the office, walking shoulder-to-shoulder down the stone corridor.
The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut behind them, Draco's tense posture evaporated, replaced instantly by the manic, buzzing energy of a peacock preparing to display its plumage.
Orion reached out and clapped a firm, companionable hand on Draco's shoulder, stopping him in the hall.
"Keep up the good work, Draco," Orion said, his voice laced with encouraging, theatrical sincerity. He looked his brother dead in the eye, perfectly serious. "Go back in there and keep telling everyone exactly how great a Malfoy is. Remind them, in excruciating detail, how you walked the very flagstones that Salazar Slytherin himself walked on. Do not let them forget it."
Draco's chest puffed out so far he looked in danger of popping a button on his expensive cloak. "I will," he vowed fervently. "They were begging for more details before Snape hauled us out. I'm going to tell them about the size of the fangs again."
"You do that," Orion smirked, releasing his shoulder. "I leave the public relations entirely in your capable hands."
Draco practically sprinted the rest of the way to the common room entrance, shouting the password and bursting through the stone door like a conquering hero returning from battle.
Orion followed at a much more leisurely pace. As he stepped over the threshold, he watched Draco instantly engulfed by a swarm of eager Slytherins—Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and a half-dozen others pressing close to hear the exaggerated tales of the Chamber's damp horrors.
Orion didn't join the throng. He slipped unnoticed through the shadows along the far wall and slipped silently into the second-year boys' dormitory.
He closed the heavy oak door, sealing out the noise of his brother's triumphant storytelling. The room was dark, quiet, and perfectly still, the only movement the gentle, rhythmic rippling of the green lake water against the high windows.
He walked to his bed, kicking off his boots and collapsing backward onto the soft duvet with a long, heavy sigh of profound satisfaction.
"Well," Sparkle's interface materialized above him, glowing a bright, celebratory gold in the dim light. "With you brother managing the masses, no one will hound you for details and you will have all the peace you want."
"He enjoys it," Orion murmured, staring up at the canopy. "I enjoy the silence. It's a mutually beneficial transaction."
The blue waveform pulsed thoughtfully. "So... what now? Are you planning on beginning your research on the Diary? You have essentially finished the main questline for the Second Year, and it is still only February. You have months of dead air ahead of you."
Orion laced his fingers behind his head, a slow, calculating smile spreading across his face.
"Yep," Orion agreed, his voice dropping to a low, energized whisper. "The future is clear."
He ticked his ongoing projects off on his fingers.
"I have all of my notes, the runic translations, and the localized spatial equations for repairing the Vanishing Cabinet completely organized in my trunk," Orion listed. "I will begin the actual physical repair and synchronization process the moment I reach home for the summer. The Manor provides a much safer, unmonitored environment for testing unstable teleportation magic than a dormitory."
He turned his head to look at the massive, ancient stones of the castle walls.
"Meanwhile," he continued, a predatory glint entering his dark blue eyes. "I still have three more months of unrestricted, unquestioned access to the Restricted Section of the library. Lockhart's signature is a golden ticket, and I have barely even completed twenty percent of the useful material in those stacks."
He sat up, the exhaustion of the day replaced by the thrilling, electric pull of uninterrupted, deeply complex magical study.
"There are still so many books to check out, Sparkle," Orion breathed. "So many obscure curses to dissect, ancient warding theories to map, and forgotten alchemical processes to memorize."
"And the Diary?" Sparkle pressed, her interface flashing a warning red for a split second. "It's just sitting there in the Inventory. It's a piece of a Dark Lord's soul, Orion. It's volatile."
"It is inert," Orion corrected firmly, tapping his temple. "It cannot influence me, it cannot possess anyone, and it cannot summon another Basilisk while it is locked inside a digital vacuum that exists entirely outside of this physical dimension."
He lay back down, pulling the covers up.
"So much to do, and now... I actually have the time to do it," Orion smiled into the darkness. "The Diary is not going anywhere. It will remain inside the Inventory until I say otherwise. We will see how to analyze it, how to dismantle its defenses safely, once I have acquired enough knowledge about Soul Magic and Horcruxes to actually understand what I am looking at."
He closed his eyes, the gentle sloshing of the lake water lulling him toward a deep, well-earned sleep.
"The game is paused, Sparkle," Orion murmured, his breathing evening out. "Now, we grind."