Orion woke with a groan. He slapped the snooze button on his internal clock and rolled over.
"Interface," he mumbled into his pillow. "Check-in."
Orion stared at the long, narrow shovel that materialized at the foot of his bed. He sighed, picked up a simple tin hairpin from his nightstand—a cheap piece of alchemy he'd fashioned from a water cup for the grand cost of twenty Knuts—and used it to tie back his hair.
"Everyone up!" he announced to the room. "First day of classes. Transfiguration waits for no man."
He gave his roommates a cursory shake. Neville stirred, but Harry and Ron were completely unconscious. "Right, that's enough effort," Orion declared. "Come on, Neville, let's go. We can't be late. As for these two sleeping beauties," he said, gesturing to the unmoving lumps in the beds, "we'll just have to leave them. Some people just can't be saved from themselves."
They ran out of the common room, not even stopping for breakfast. As they rounded a corner, they nearly collided with Hermione, who was marching towards the Transfiguration classroom with a determined look on her face.
"There you are!" she huffed, looking them up and down. "You're cutting it awfully close! Aren't you afraid of being caught by Filch?"
"Relax, Granger," Orion said smoothly. "I'm running precisely because I overslept. And I'm sure you wouldn't want to be the one to explain to McGonagall why Gryffindor lost points because your classmate was late, would you?"
Hermione sniffed, unconvinced. "Fine. But where are Harry and Ron? It's just you and Neville?"
"Don't even ask," Orion said with a long-suffering sigh. "Those two are sleeping like the dead. Honestly, if their bodies weren't still warm, I would have sent Peeves up to check on them. I swear to you," he declared theatrically, "if by some miracle they aren't late to this class, I will personally eat that desk."
Hermione looked horrified. "But they can't miss the first class! It's Transfiguration!"
"Well then, we'd better get to our seats, hadn't we?"
They hurried into the classroom. It was empty, save for a single tabby cat sitting primly on the professor's desk, watching them with unblinking eyes.
"Is Professor McGonagall not here yet?" Hermione whispered, looking around.
Orion stared at the cat. Something about its gaze—the focused intelligence, the unnerving stillness—pinged his internal radar. This was no ordinary animal. He subtly pulled a small, intricately carved silver locket from his pocket—an alchemical trinket of his own design that hummed faintly in the presence of complex magical signatures. The locket grew warm against his palm.
Aha, he thought. An Animagus.
Just then, the classroom door burst open and Harry and Ron stumbled in, panting and dishevelled. "We made it," Ron gasped.
The cat on the desk leaped gracefully into the air and, in mid-flight, transformed into the stern, square-spectacled figure of Professor McGonagall.
Ron's jaw dropped. "That was bloody brilliant!"
"Thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said dryly. "Perhaps if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter and yourself into a pocket watch, you might be on time."
"We got lost," Harry mumbled.
"Then perhaps a map? I trust you can find your seats."
As they scurried to their desks, Hermione was whispering furiously. "I can't believe them! Late for the very first lesson!"
"Quiet, Granger," Orion whispered back, a grin playing on his lips. "I want to see what creative punishment she comes up with."
McGonagall surveyed the class. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she began. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."1 She then turned, aimed her wand at the desk, and transformed it into a large, grunting pig.
It was a flawless transformation. The pig looked so real, so solid, that Orion felt a jolt of inspiration. "Professor," he said, raising his hand. "That pig… it seems alive."
As if on cue, the pig looked at him with wide, clear, and remarkably vacant eyes.
"An excellent observation, Mr. Black," McGonagall said. "But do not be fooled. Transfigured objects have no consciousness, no soul. That is a level of magic far beyond what we will be studying."
Orion barely heard her. His mind was racing. That's the missing piece! he thought. Alchemy creates the frame, Transfiguration provides the details… but a soul provides the spark of life! His wooden puppets, his alchemical trinkets… with a soul, they could become so much more. He could get souls. The forest was full of Acromantulas, wasn't it? Their souls would surely be potent…
"Mr. Black!"
A sharp rap on his head from McGonagall's wand snapped him out of his reverie.
"Today's lesson," she said, placing a matchstick on each of their desks, "will be to turn this into a needle. Now, begin."
Hermione, naturally, was the first to succeed. With a focused whisper, her matchstick turned into a simple, silver needle.
"Excellent, Miss Granger!" McGonagall said. "Three points to Gryffindor."
Hermione shot a smug, sideways glance at Orion. He simply smirked.
He picked up his wand and gave the matchstick a casual flick. It transformed instantly into a perfect silver needle. With a second flick, the needle turned to gleaming gold, an intricate floral pattern etching itself along its length.
"A remarkable display, Mr. Black," McGonagall said, her eyebrows raised. "Five points to Gryffindor."
Not to be outdone, Hermione focused on her own needle, managing to etch a faint, shallow pattern onto its surface after several minutes of intense concentration. "Four more points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Well done."
Orion, who was now thoroughly bored, flicked his wand a third time. His golden needle sprouted four tiny, perfectly formed pig legs and began to slowly crawl across the desk.
The classroom was silent. Professor McGonagall stared at the scuttling needle-pig, the corners of her mouth twitching uncontrollably. "One more point to Gryffindor," she managed, her voice tight with suppressed laughter, "for… creativity."
The bell rang, signaling the end of class. As they packed their bags, Orion leaned over to a fuming Hermione.
"Better luck next time, Granger," he said with a wink.
That evening, the reality of school life came crashing down.
"Orion," Harry started, looking over at him from his bed. "You're a top student, your grades must be fantastic, right?" He then gave Ron a subtle nudge.
Ron took the cue. "Ahem," he said, shifting awkwardly. "The thing is… that homework… could we maybe… have a look at yours?"
Orion looked up from his book. "Homework? What homework?"
"The History of Magic and today's Transfiguration essays," Ron said miserably.
Orion's face went blank. He stared into space for a long moment before taking a deep breath. "Bad news," he announced. "I haven't written a single word."
He sighed, stood up, and left the three of them staring after him. He ran all the way to Hagrid's hut, pounding on the heavy wooden door.
"Hagrid, it's an emergency!"
The door swung open to reveal a concerned-looking Hagrid. "Orion? What's wrong?"
"I need money," Orion said, stepping inside. "Dumbledore told me my family was rich. He said you could get me money from my vault. I need a thousand Galleons." He slammed the pouch of gold he still had from Dumbledore onto the table. "This is a deposit."
Hagrid, touched by the boy's absolute faith in him, patted his shoulder. "O' course, Orion. If Dumbledore said so. I'll head to Gringotts for yeh first thing in the mornin'."
Orion then ran back to the castle, found the Weasley twins in the common room, and dumped the bag of gold in front of them. "I have a business proposal," he said.
Fred's eyes widened. "We're listening."
"My homework," Orion said. "History of Magic and Transfiguration. You do it for me."
George clutched his chest in a gesture of profound loyalty. "Young Master Black," he said grandly. "Consider it done."
Meanwhile, in his office, Albus Dumbledore was reviewing the day's events. His mind kept drifting back to Orion. The boy's raw talent was staggering, but his research interests were frankly terrifying. Is he trying to create a chain-lightning version of the Killing Curse? Dumbledore wondered. Or is he trying to modify the Cruciatus Curse to affect corporeal bodies? Or worse… is he theorizing a way to create Horcruxes without even splitting the soul?
His thoughts were interrupted by Orion himself, who strolled into the office unannounced.
"Headmaster!" Orion declared cheerfully. "I've had a breakthrough! I've found a new direction for my research! I'm going to combine the principles of Transfiguration with advanced Alchemy, but with a key third component: souls!"
A cold sweat trickled down Dumbledore's back. He was quite certain that even the Dark Lord himself, as a seventh-year, had not possessed the same terrifying brand of creative ingenuity as this eleven-year-old boy.