The Slytherin common room was practically humming with manic energy when the Second Years returned. The sheer, unadulterated shock of Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived, the emblem of Gryffindor purity—hissing in Parseltongue at a conjured snake had completely eclipsed everything else that had happened on the dueling platform.
Including Orion's flawless, theatrical dismantling of said Boy Who Lived.
"He's a Parselmouth!" Draco announced, throwing himself onto his four-poster bed the moment they entered the dormitory. His face was a mixture of awe, horror, and profound confusion. "Potter! He can speak to snakes! Only the Heir of Slytherin can do that! Is he... is he really the Heir?!"
"Draco," Orion sighed, sinking onto his own mattress and pulling off his dragon-hide boots. "Do not let a linguistic anomaly override basic logic. I remind you: Mudblood mother, Muggle upbringing, zero political ambition. If he is the Heir of Slytherin, then Salazar had incredibly low standards."
"But he spoke Snake!" Goyle grunted, looking genuinely terrified from his bed. "I heard him! It sounded like... like water boiling on a hot rock."
"It sounded like someone talking to a reptile, Greg," Orion corrected, waving a hand dismissively. "A rare gift, yes. But it does not make him a mastermind. It just makes him a very convenient scapegoat for whoever is actually opening the Chamber."
Orion pulled the heavy velvet curtains around his bed shut, sealing out the frantic theorizing of his roommates. He cast a quick Silencio, ensuring absolute privacy.
He checked the stand beside his bed and tapped on it. "Robin. Out."
The Niffler scrambled out of its home and onto the duvet, clutching a silver hairbrush that looked suspiciously like the one Draco had spent twenty minutes searching for that morning. Robin chirped happily, beginning to groom his black fur with the stolen prize.
Orion leaned back against the headboard, feeling the familiar, satisfying hum of a plan coming together.
"Sparkle," Orion whispered into the dim, green-tinted light of his enclosure. "Show me the loot. I believe my performance tonight warrants a review."
The blue interface materialized, hovering just above Robin's busy grooming session. It sparkled with a celebratory gold trim.
"It was a masterpiece," Sparkle's voice buzzed with genuine admiration. "The lighting, the music, the effortless takedown. You didn't just duel him; you established dominance. You broke his spirit before you even took his wand."
Two glowing notifications appeared on the screen.
[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]
Tier: 2 (Advanced)
Name: The Boss Battle
Description: You challenged the Protagonist in his own story and turned it into a cinematic event. Dueling with a personalized, heavy-metal boss theme playing in the background raises your Aura points to critical levels. Harry Potter is guaranteed to remember this encounter. You have proven that while the Dark Lord might have a snake face and a superiority complex, you have style.
Reward: 1x Dueling Dummy (Automated Combat Construct).
Orion sat up, his eyes widening slightly. "An Automated Combat Construct?"
"Check your inventory," Sparkle instructed, her waveform bouncing excitedly. "It's not just a wooden post to shoot spells at. It's an interactive sparring partner."
Orion opened his mental grid. In a new slot sat a pixelated icon of a faceless, smooth, grey humanoid figure mounted on a wheeled base.
"It has five difficulty settings," Sparkle explained. "Tier 1 is 'Basic Target Practice'. It just stands there. Tier 5 is 'Extreme Duelist'. It will actively dodge your spells, analyze your casting patterns, and fire back localized, non-lethal hexes—Stinging Charms, Knockback Jinxes, Disarming Spells. Or at least something similar to that. It learns. It adapts."
Orion stared at the icon. This was exactly what he needed. His current training dummy in the abandoned classroom was practically toothless. He could hit it with a Bombarda, but it couldn't shoot back. He needed a moving target if he was going to survive the endgame of this year.
"This is incredible," Orion murmured, genuinely impressed. "But... Sparkle. A self-learning, spell-casting combat dummy? That feels like a Tier 3 reward. Why is it only Tier 2?"
Sparkle's interface flashed a dull red for a microsecond.
"It's a fair question," Sparkle admitted, sounding slightly defensive. "But you have to understand the grading curve. A Tier 3 reward for that duel would have been something mythic. Like... a summonable echo of Godric Gryffindor to personally mentor you in swordplay. Or a localized time-dilation field for infinite training."
She sighed digitally.
"Unfortunately, while your performance was exceptionally stylish... it was still just a duel against an untrained, emotionally compromised twelve-year-old boy. You bullied a child, Orion. You didn't slay a dragon. The style points carried you to Tier 2. The actual combat difficulty was barely Tier 1."
Orion frowned, crossing his arms. He raised a hand, making a swift, swatting motion toward the floating blue screen.
Sparkle's interface instantly zipped sideways, dodging his hand with practiced ease.
"Ah-ah-ah," Sparkle taunted, a tiny smiley face with its tongue sticking out appearing on the screen. "Don't forget what happened last time you tried to assault a non-corporeal entity. Do you want another heavy book to the face? Because I can arrange for 'Hogwarts: A History' to drop from the ceiling right now."
"Keep your books," Orion grumbled, lowering his hand, remembering the agonizing headache from the library incident perfectly well. "Fine. It's a Tier 2. It's still highly functional. What's the other one?"
The screen shifted, displaying the second notification.
[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]
Tier: 1 (Basic)
Name: If I Had a Galleon...
Description: ...for every time wizards threw away their wands and chose to punch each other like Muggles outside a pub, I'd have two Galleons. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice. First Lucius and Arthur in the bookstore, now Hermione and Millicent on the dueling stage. The magical world truly runs on brute force and repressed anger.
Reward: 2x Solid Gold Galleons.
Orion blinked. He looked at the reward line again.
"Two Galleons," Orion deadpanned. "That's it? That's the reward? Literally two coins?"
"It's a literal interpretation of the meme," Sparkle giggled. "What did you expect? A championship boxing belt? You witnessed two instances of magical people forgetting they have magic. You get paid per instance."
She paused, a thoughtful hum vibrating in the audio.
"Actually, it's a shame you weren't physically present in the train corridor when Weasley punched Draco over the rat last year. If you had seen that, you would have gotten three Galleons. Or maybe the achievement would have triggered earlier. Timing is everything."
"I am heir to the Malfoy fortune," Orion sighed, rubbing his temples. "I have vaults full of gold. And the System rewards me with pocket change."
He opened his inventory and retrieved the two heavy, gleaming gold coins. They were genuine, Ministry-minted Galleons.
He looked down at his lap. Robin the Niffler had paused his grooming with the stolen hairbrush. His beady black eyes were fixed on the gold coins in Orion's hand with absolute, unblinking devotion.
"Shiny," Robin squeaked, his snout twitching. "For Robin?"
Orion looked at the coins, then at the Niffler.
"You know what," Orion said, tossing the two Galleons onto the duvet. "Consider it your allowance. Try not to eat them; they aren't candy."
Robin didn't wait for a second invitation. He lunged forward, snatched the two coins with lightning speed, and shoved them deep into his bottomless pouch. He let out a contented, muffled clink and went back to brushing his fur.
Orion leaned back against his pillows, closing his eyes.
The Dueling Club had been a success on multiple fronts. He had established his dominance, humiliated his rival, and acquired a training tool that would exponentially increase his combat readiness.
But more importantly, the narrative had shifted. Harry Potter was now officially a pariah. The school feared him. The Heir of Slytherin rumors would isolate him further, pushing him deeper into desperation and forcing him toward the Chamber of Secrets to clear his name.