The silence in Professor Snape's office was absolute, thick with the weight of the proposal hanging in the air.
"So, what say you, Father?" Orion asked, his voice soft, almost conversational, betraying none of the immense stakes riding on the answer.
Orion watched Lucius Malfoy's face. He didn't need Legilimency to see the gears grinding behind his father's pale grey eyes. He could practically track the political calculus occurring in real-time.
Lucius was analyzing the cost. There would undoubtedly be significant political maneuvering required. Some gold was bound to flow into the pockets of his fellow politicians within the conservative faction to smooth over the ruffled feathers of freeing a 'blood-traitor'. After all, the Dark faction was united primarily through bribery, mutual self-interest, and fear; there was no true friendship or ideological loyalty among them when the Dark Lord was absent.
But Lucius was also calculating the return on investment.
The fact that Cornelius Fudge would leap at the chance to paint himself as a redeemer of justice and a victim of previous administrations meant Lucius wouldn't have to fight the Minister. That alone saved him a fortune in political capital and long-term bribes.
Furthermore, the realization that Albus Dumbledore and Amelia Bones—the two pillars of the Light faction—would not oppose the motion meant an unprecedented, frictionless victory in the Wizengamot. It was a prime opportunity like no other.
The only tangible downside was the liberation of Sirius Black.
Lucius's eyes flicked slightly. Orion knew what he was thinking. Lucius had spent the entire summer emphasizing to Draco and Orion how incredibly dangerous Black was, building a narrative of a fanatical, bloodthirsty killer to justify keeping his family on lockdown.
But honestly, Orion thought, watching his father's posture relax slightly, he knows Black is currently worthless. A broken man fresh out of a decade in Azkaban poses zero immediate threat to the Malfoy estate. And politically? Freeing him puts both Black and Dumbledore marginally in our debt.
Lucius Malfoy slowly, deliberately, lowered his silver-headed cane until it rested on the stone floor. He stood up straight, his chest puffing out slightly, his aristocratic mask clicking firmly back into place.
"It will require... delicate handling," Lucius murmured, his voice regaining its usual, haughty purr. "The older families will bristle at the notion of rewarding a disgraced Black. I will have to frame it as a strict adherence to the letter of the law, a stand against Ministry overreach and false imprisonment."
He offered Orion a slow, incredibly proud smile—a smile usually reserved for high-stakes business triumphs, not familial affection.
"But you are correct, Orion," Lucius conceded. "The opportunity to secure an Order of Merlin for the House of Malfoy at your age is... unprecedented. It elevates our standing beyond reproach. I shall ensure Fudge understands that my continued, vocal support of his administration relies heavily on recognizing your... remarkable deductions."
"I knew you would see the wisdom in it, Father," Orion offered a polite, shallow bow.
"We shall speak more on this later," Lucius said, turning toward the fireplace. He looked at the Potions Master. "Severus. Keep him out of trouble until this is finalized."
Snape offered a curt, unenthusiastic nod.
Before Lucius threw the Floo powder, Orion spoke up one last time. "Uncle Sev can communicate the broad strokes of our plan to the Headmaster and Madam Bones this morning. To keep everyone on the same page. It helps build cooperation when the 'Light' realizes we are handing them their desired outcome on a silver platter."
Lucius smirked. "Indeed. Good day, Orion. Severus."
With a roar of emerald flames, Lucius Malfoy vanished back to London, armed with a narrative that would turn the wizarding world upside down before lunch.
Snape remained standing near his desk. He looked at the empty fireplace, then slowly turned his black eyes onto Orion. The look was a potent mixture of profound exasperation, reluctant awe, and deep-seated suspicion.
"You are dismissed, Malfoy," Snape said, his voice flat and tired. "Get out of my office before you decide to casually overthrow the Ministry by lunchtime."
"Have a pleasant day, Professor," Orion smiled, turning on his heel and walking out.
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him.
Orion walked down the damp dungeon corridor, his footsteps light and rhythmic. The tension that had been coiled in his chest since he discovered the rat was finally unwinding.
"Bloody hell," Sparkle's voice erupted in his mind, her blue interface glowing so brightly it almost hurt to look at. "That was an absolute masterclass. You just played a game of four-dimensional chess and checkmated everyone on the board using their own pieces."
"I told you not to worry," Orion thought back, a genuine, satisfied grin breaking across his face.
"There will definitely be at least one Tier 3 achievement for getting an Order of Merlin at thirteen years old," Sparkle gushed, her waveform dancing wildly. "The system algorithms are going to fry trying to calculate the narrative impact of this."
"You know me by now, Sparkle," Orion murmured, turning the corner toward the Slytherin common room. "This was destined to happen. I am merely expediting the process of my own inevitable greatness."
"Modest, too," she giggled.
"Well," Orion sighed, stretching his arms above his head as he approached the blank stone wall. "I believe our part in this specific drama is officially done. We secured the rat. We set the political wheels in motion. Now..."
He paused, a look of profound, blissful relief washing over him.
"...we leave the tedious politics and the bureaucratic shouting matches to the adults. I have an essay on cheering charms to write, and frankly, I intend to take a nap. Also, as a side note, should probably instruct Dobby to have some other elf get into a regular duty of delivering some fish to that flat-faced cat. Promises should be honored, after all."