For Orion Malfoy, the heavy lifting of the Peter Pettigrew operation was officially over. He had captured the traitor, orchestrated the political alliances, and set the board. Now, he simply had to wait for the pieces to move.
"I have a few achievements queued up from the capture and the initial interrogation," Sparkle informed him later that week, her interface hovering near his desk while he finished an Arithmancy chart. "We can cash them in now, if you want a mid-week dopamine hit."
"Hold them," Orion instructed silently, not looking up from his parchment. "I prefer the satisfaction of a bulk claim. Let's wait until this entire Pettigrew debacle is legally concluded. It feels cleaner that way."
"Loot hoarding," Sparkle noted with approval. "Classic."
The debacle, as it turned out, was a masterclass in the glacial pacing of magical bureaucracy. Despite the combined, overwhelming influence of Lucius Malfoy, Amelia Bones, and Albus Dumbledore—with Cornelius Fudge himself eagerly pushing for a swift resolution—the Ministry process was a slow, grinding beast.
It took until the following Sunday for the first emergency session of the Wizengamot to convene behind closed doors. The bombshell of Pettigrew's survival was dropped, and the shockwaves were immediate.
By Monday morning, the news was plastered across the front page of the Daily Prophet in screaming, bold type.
MARTYR OR MURDERER? PETER PETTIGREW FOUND ALIVE AT HOGWARTS!
Orion sat at the Slytherin table, calmly sipping his tea, as the Great Hall erupted into absolute, deafening chaos.
"What is this?!" Draco shrieked, practically dropping his goblet as he snatched the paper from Titan's claws. His eyes darted across the text, widening in disbelief. He whipped his head toward Orion. "Orion! It says... it says you were the one who found him! It says you deduced he was an Animagus! What the hell?!"
The surrounding Slytherins stopped eating, staring at Orion with a mixture of awe and profound, frustrated confusion.
"Malfoy," Theodore Nott murmured, leaning in. "You caught a presumed-dead Death Eater who was hiding as a rat... and you didn't think to mention it?"
"I am a student of history, Theo," Orion replied smoothly, turning a page of his textbook. "I merely recognized a biological anomaly regarding a Gryffindor's pet and brought it to the attention of a professor. The rest was handled by the authorities. I prefer not to boast about civic duty."
Draco looked like he wanted to scream. "But it's front-page news! You're famous! Again!"
"Fame is a byproduct, Draco, not the goal," Orion dismissed.
Over the next week and a half, the Prophet ran non-stop coverage. The trial took multiple, heavily publicized sessions. The use of Veritaserum was authorized, and the entire, unvarnished truth spilled out into the public domain.
Articles detailed the history of the Marauders, the tragic, last-minute switch of the Secret Keeper, and the precise, cowardly mechanics of the murders on the Muggle street twelve years prior.
Orion watched the Gryffindor table during these days. The news was clearly hitting Harry Potter like a series of physical blows. Despite having heard the confession in Dumbledore's office, the public airing of his parents' betrayal and his godfather's innocence left Harry looking shell-shocked. He spent most meals staring blankly at the tabletop, sporting various expressions of disbelief, grief, and a strange, overwhelming relief.
Soon, the inevitable conclusion was reached. By the following Friday, the Daily Prophet featured a massive photograph of Sirius Black.
He looked haggard, his hair matted and his face gaunt from twelve years of Dementor exposure, but he was standing tall in the Ministry atrium, wearing clean robes. Below the photograph was the official Ministry pardon and a staggering list of financial remunerations for wrongful imprisonment.
"It's done," Orion whispered to himself, a genuine smile touching his lips.
A few days prior, while the trial was ongoing, Orion had approached Professor Snape after Potions class.
"Uncle Sev," Orion had asked politely. "Will I be required to travel to the Ministry to provide testimony regarding the initial discovery of the rat?"
Snape had paused, rearranging his desk. "Under normal circumstances, yes. The Wizengamot usually requires direct testimony from the discovering party. However... Lucius has blocked the subpoena."
Orion raised an eyebrow. "Blocked it?"
"He stated that as a minor, you are under his legal purview, and that as your father, he will represent your statements via proxy," Snape explained, his black eyes glinting with a rare, cynical amusement. "He wishes to keep you entirely out of the courtroom."
"To protect me from the press?" Orion asked, though he knew the real answer.
"To protect his narrative," Snape corrected smoothly. "Lucius is currently laying the groundwork for your... reward. When he drops the suggestion of the Order of Merlin via his proxy colleagues in the Wizengamot, it cannot be linked back to you personally. There can be no doubts of coercion, bribery, or a child demanding a medal. It must appear transparent. An organic, grateful gesture from a rescued Ministry to a brilliant young citizen."
"Ah," Orion nodded, impressed by his father's political maneuvering. "Placing the idea in the minds of others so they think it was their own. Classic."
"Indeed," Snape said softly. "You would do well to take notes."
Orion had initially harbored a brief, flickering worry that without his direct involvement, Lucius might fumble the negotiations.
But, Orion had reasoned later that night in his trunk, we have Albus Dumbledore on the case. He is a master manipulator who is widely regarded as the strongest wizard alive. You don't attain that level of influence without possessing unparalleled political skills. Furthermore, we have Amelia Bones, who is ruthlessly efficient.
While Lucius can be a coward when directly threatened by Dark Lords, he is a politician at his very core. And in this specific scenario, there are massive personal stakes and prestige involved for him. With those three operating together, albeit for entirely different reasons... there is absolutely no way anyone is messing this up.
Now, with Sirius Black officially exonerated and Peter Pettigrew on his merry way, to be locked in the deepest cell of Azkaban, the primary objective was complete.
Orion sat in the Slytherin common room, a book resting unread on his lap. He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the leather armrest.
The rat was caged. The innocent was freed. The narrative was secured.
"Now," Orion whispered, a thrill of pure, unadulterated ambition buzzing in his veins. "The only question remaining is... when are they going to announce my Order of Merlin?"
He leaned back, closing his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. He could not wait.