The Hogwarts Express chugged steadily southward, cutting through the rolling, emerald hills of the British countryside under a brilliant, cloudless sky. Inside the compartment, the air was thick with the scent of spun sugar, the sharp, sulfurous pop of Exploding Snap, and the relaxed, satisfied hum of students officially on vacation.
Orion sat near the window, his posture loose, holding a Cauldran cake.
Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were engaged in a viciously competitive game of Exploding Snap on the floor. Pansy Parkinson was perched on the edge of her seat, cheering Draco on while meticulously peeling a Chocolate Frog. Daphne Greengrass sat opposite Orion, reading a glossy magazine, her icy demeanor thawed slightly by the end-of-term relief.
It was a perfectly mundane, perfectly enjoyable train ride.
The compartment door slid open with a soft clatter.
The game of Exploding Snap paused. Draco looked up, a scowl forming on his lips ready to hurl an insult at whoever dared interrupt their sanctuary.
Luna Lovegood stood in the doorway. She was wearing her usual mismatched ensemble—a bright yellow sweater over her uniform skirt, and a pair of earrings that looked suspiciously like small, dried gourds. She didn't look at Draco, or Pansy, or Daphne. She looked directly at Orion.
"Hello, Orion," Luna said, her voice breathy and light.
Draco's mouth opened, the insult primed.
Orion didn't move his wand. He simply shifted his blue eyes from the window to his brother, a flat, unspoken warning passing between them.
Draco swallowed hard, his jaw snapping shut. He looked back down at his cards, glaring at a Two of Spades as if it had personally offended him. Crabbe and Goyle, following their leader, remained silent. Pansy looked away, pretending to be fascinated by her Chocolate Frog wrapper.
"Hello, Luna," Orion replied, offering a polite, genuine smile. "Did you enjoy the feast?"
"I did," Luna beamed, her silvery eyes crinkling. "The pudding was excellent. The Nargles stayed away all night, too. I just wanted to come and say goodbye before we reached the station."
"Have a good summer, Luna," Orion said softly. "Try not to wander the woods at midnight without a proper cloak."
"I won't," she promised, her radish earrings bobbing. "See you next year, Orion."
She gave a small, airy wave to the compartment at large—which was met with absolute, awkward silence—and slid the door shut, drifting away down the corridor.
Daphne slowly lowered her magazine. She looked from the closed door to Orion, her ice-blue eyes sharp with calculating curiosity.
"She's a Ravenclaw," Daphne noted quietly. "And entirely... eccentric. I must admit, Orion, the company you keep is often more baffling than your magical prowess."
"Diversity of perspective is vital to a well-rounded intellect, Daphne," Orion replied smoothly. "Besides, she is remarkably observant. It pays to have observant friends."
Daphne didn't press further, though the look in her eyes suggested she was filing the interaction away for future analysis.
King's Cross Station was the usual orchestrated chaos of steam, shouting parents, and overloaded trolleys.
Orion navigated the platform with practiced ease, his shrunken trunk secure in his pocket, keeping a watchful eye on Draco, who was grumbling about the weight of his own luggage.
They spotted the striking, aristocratic silhouettes of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy near the VIP Floo grates.
"Father. Mother," Draco greeted them, adopting his formal posture.
Narcissa offered her usual, brief embrace. "You both look well. Tired, but well."
Lucius leaned on his silver-headed cane, his grey eyes sweeping over his sons with a look of intense, demanding pride.
"Well done, both of you," Lucius declared, his voice carrying easily over the din of the station. "Another House Cup secured for Slytherin. A testament to our continued superiority."
His expression soured slightly, a look of profound distaste crossing his sharp features.
"While it is incredibly unfortunate that the Quidditch Cup went to those... unruly Gryffindors... we cannot win every battle, I suppose."
Draco pouted, looking down at his boots. "It was Wood, Father. He's mental. He made them practice in a thunderstorm."
Orion hid a smirk. He had heard the gloating before the exams had begun. Oliver Wood had apparently paraded the Quidditch Cup through the Gryffindor common room for three days straight. He also knew for a fact, via a very sour-looking Snape, that Professor McGonagall had spent a solid twenty minutes casually polishing the Cup in the staff room while discussing 'aerial dominance' just to irritate the Potions Master.
I am certain Uncle Sev will remind her of the 720-point House Cup victory over the course of summer vacation, Orion thought, amused by the petty faculty rivalries.
"Do not fret over a minor sporting trophy, Draco," Lucius dismissed, turning his attention to his younger son. His eyes gleamed with genuine, ambitious fervor.
"Orion," Lucius said, his voice dropping into a register of profound satisfaction. "The Special Award for Services to the School. I received the official notification from the Board this morning. That is a rare honor. A permanent, undeniable proof of Malfoy valor displayed for all to see. It elevates our standing significantly."
Lucius puffed out his chest, preparing to launch into a full-scale oratorical performance. "It demonstrates that even in the face of bureaucratic incompetence, the old families—"
"Father," Orion interrupted smoothly, cutting the speech off at the knees.
Lucius paused, blinking. "Yes?"
Orion rubbed his temples, adopting a look of deep, world-weary exhaustion.
"I appreciate the sentiment, Father," Orion said, his voice laced with fatigue. "But the train ride was incredibly noisy, and dealing with the fame over the last week has been draining. I am exceptionally tired. Can we perhaps save the discussion of our societal impact for dinner?"
Lucius hesitated, the grand speech dying on his lips. He looked at Orion's seemingly exhausted face, then nodded curtly.
"Very well," Lucius conceded. "Efficiency is paramount. We shall return to the Manor immediately."
They exchanged brief, polite farewells with the Parkinsons, the Crabbes, the Goyles, and Lord Greengrass, before stepping into the private Floo grates.
With a roar of green fire, the soot and noise of London vanished, replaced by the cool, silent, beeswax-scented elegance of Malfoy Manor's receiving room.
"I shall be in my quarters," Orion announced the moment he stepped out of the grate, not waiting for his father to find another excuse to talk.
He walked swiftly up the grand staircase, moving down the East Wing corridor until he reached his expansive bedroom. He shut the heavy oak door behind him, locking it with a sharp flick of his wand, and let out a long, shuddering breath.
"Home," Orion whispered.
He pulled the shrunken trunk from his pocket, enlarging it at the foot of his massive, four-poster bed. He reached into his robe pocket and extracted Robin.
The Niffler immediately scrambled onto the duvet, sniffing the air furiously before diving under a pillow in search of misplaced Sickles.
Orion didn't stop him. He walked over to the bed and simply flopped backward onto the mattress, staring up at the painted cherubs on the ceiling. Robin sneaks out of his pocket, to try and find something shiny in the room.
The silence of the Manor was absolute. There were no ghosts gliding through the walls, no moving staircases grinding, no constant, suffocating hum of hundreds of magical adolescents. Just peace.
"You survived Year Two," Sparkle's voice was a soft, comforting presence in his mind. "And you broke the game while doing it."
"I secured the assets," Orion corrected sleepily, closing his eyes. "The Diary, the Basilisk Venom and Blood, the copy of the cloak of invisiblility, the vials of polyjuice potion."
He felt the exhaustion of the year finally, truly catching up to him, pulling him down into the soft mattress.
"Tomorrow," Orion mumbled, his voice slurring as sleep dragged him under. "Tomorrow... it's time to fix that broken cabinet."