"So, what kind of alchemy are you working on?" Ron asked later that evening in the Gryffindor common room.
Orion gave him a wicked grin. "It's a secret. But don't worry, once I've perfected my self-replicating metallic spiders, I'll be sure to put a bag of them on your bed."
Ron went pale at the thought of waking up covered in a swarm of metal arachnids.
Just then, a massive figure detached itself from the shadows near the portrait hole. It was Hagrid, trying his best to be stealthy, which was like watching a mountain try to tiptoe. He sidled up to Orion and discreetly handed him a heavy pouch.
"Here yeh go," he whispered. "Fresh from Gringotts. Good as new."
Orion tucked the pouch into an inner pocket of his robes without even looking inside. "I trust you, Hagrid. Thank you."
"Anytime, Orion, anytime," Hagrid beamed, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder that, as usual, nearly sent the chair Orion was sitting on into splinters. Orion himself didn't budge an inch.
After Hagrid left, Hermione leaned over, her voice a low hiss. "What was that? What did he give you? You know, the school has a very strict policy on contraband items. Section four, paragraph C, explicitly forbids—"
"Stop, stop," Orion interrupted, holding up a hand. "It's just the money I asked him to get for me. The thousand Galleons."
Ron's jaw dropped. "A thousand Galleons?!"
"What could you possibly need that much money for?" Hermione demanded. "You can't spend that at school!"
"Alchemy is a very expensive hobby," Orion said dismissively. Before she could lecture him further, the Weasley twins sauntered over.
"Orion, my dear fellow," said George.
"We have completed the task you assigned us," finished Fred. He handed over two rolls of parchment. "Guaranteed quality."
Orion glanced over the essays, nodded, and produced a large handful of gold coins. "Excellent. This should cover your services for the rest of the term." He pressed the gold into Fred's hand.
The twins bowed with theatrical flair. "A pleasure doing business with you, Young Master Black."
The next day in Transfiguration, however, it became clear that the twins' guarantee of "quality" was highly subjective. Professor McGonagall handed back their essays with a thin-lipped expression. Hermione received top marks. Orion's essay, on the other hand, was covered in so much red ink it looked like it had been attacked by a rogue Bludger.
"Mr. Black," McGonagall said with a deep sigh. "While your penmanship shows a certain… abstract creativity, your grasp of the fundamental principles appears to have been written by a troll. See me after class."
Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Professor, I believe—"
She was clearly about to report him for cheating.
"Ah, ah, ah, Granger," Orion said quickly, catching her eye. "Think of the House points. You wouldn't want to lose all the points you've earned over someone else's mistake, would you?"
Hermione froze, her mouth half-open, caught in a moral quandary. Harry and Ron, sensing an impending explosion, tried to look as small as possible. The Weasley twins, seeing their business partner in peril, prepared to launch a diversion. The tension was palpable.
Ultimately, McGonagall, sensing a massive headache brewing, simply cleared her throat loudly and moved on with the lesson, letting the matter drop.
It was Snape's fault, Orion grumbled internally, glaring daggers at the back of Hermione's bushy hair. His toxic presence must have addled my brain. I can't believe I trusted those two buffoons.
From the staff table at the front of the hall, a faint sneeze could be heard.
Later that day, the trio made their way to their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
"I can't wait," Ron said excitedly. "We're finally going to learn some proper curses!"
They entered a classroom that smelled overwhelmingly of garlic. Their new professor, a pale, nervous man in a large purple turban, was stuttering his way through his own name.
"W-welcome, class. I am P-Professor Q-Quirrell."
The lesson was a profound disappointment. Quirrell stammered about forests and vampires, and the garlic smell was so thick it was hard to breathe. Orion, bored out of his mind, spent the entire class trying not to fall asleep. He silently cursed his Interface for not providing him with a gas mask.
When the bell finally rang, the students fled the room as if escaping a dragon.
"I can't breathe," Ron gasped, leaning against the corridor wall.
"What a let-down," Harry said, his shoulders slumped. "I waited all summer for this."
Orion handed them each a biscuit from his pocket. They took a bite and immediately gagged. The biscuits had absorbed the garlic smell from the classroom.
Orion knew that if he wanted to advance his own projects, he couldn't rely on the school's curriculum. He needed materials. Rare materials.
That evening, he slipped out of the castle and headed for the edge of the Forbidden Forest. After a brief, friendly chat with Hagrid, he made his way to a secluded clearing where he knew a colony of Nifflers made their home. Using the antique trenching spade from his Interface, he began to dig.
It didn't take long to find their burrow. The main chamber was a glittering treasure trove of ores, crystals, raw gems, and several dozen gold Galleons.
Orion picked up a particularly plump Niffler by the scruff of its neck. "Look at this," he chided, pointing to a pile of shiny buttons and glass marbles in the corner. "You have access to all the mineral wealth of this forest, and you hoard buttons? Pathetic."
He proceeded to "confiscate" all the valuable metals—gold, silver, copper, and iron—and a few of the larger gemstones, stuffing them into his bag. As a final act of "encouragement," he waved his hand, and a small, controlled ball of blue Fiendfyre incinerated the pile of worthless glass.
"Work harder," he told the terrified creature. "Next time, I expect to see a much better return on your investment."
He returned to the castle under the cover of darkness, just in time for his next class.
"Where have you been?" Ron asked as Orion slid into a seat beside him at the base of the Astronomy Tower.
"Running errands," Orion replied.
"You missed dinner," Harry said, handing him a meat pie he'd saved.
The class was freezing. As the other students shivered under the night sky, Orion used his own internal energy to raise his body temperature slightly. It wasn't much, but it took the edge off the cold. When it was his turn with the telescope, he had to physically shove a shivering Hermione out of the way.
After class, as Ron and Neville were nursing runny noses, Orion announced he was going to see Dumbledore. He found the Headmaster dozing in his office.
"Time for another experiment, Headmaster," he said cheerfully.
A bleary-eyed Dumbledore looked at the pile of raw metals and gems Orion dumped on his desk. "Just... ordinary alchemy tonight, I hope?"
"Of course," Orion lied smoothly.
Dumbledore sighed in relief and promptly fell back asleep.
Orion worked through the night, the Headmaster's snores providing a steady rhythm. By morning, he had finished. Sitting on the desk was a magnificent brooch in the shape of a sunflower, forged from the gold he'd taken from the Nifflers. Its petals were lined with silver, and at its center, a cluster of gems glittered in the dawn light. He nudged Dumbledore awake.
"It's beautiful, my boy," the Headmaster said, examining the piece. "Truly exquisite."
"It also glows," Orion added proudly.
Dumbledore sighed, looking at the mess of tools and alchemical residues scattered around his office. "You work like a bull , Orion."
Orion just grinned.