The wind swept across the grounds, ruffling robes and hair as Madam Hooch's figure retreated toward the castle, a trembling Neville Longbottom in tow. The moment she was out of earshot, the tension on the field shifted from shock to something sharper.
Draco Malfoy, never one to let a dramatic moment pass without inserting himself into it, spotted something glittering in the grass where Neville had fallen.
He pounced.
"Look!" Draco crowed, holding up the glass sphere. It swirled with red smoke. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."
The Remembrall caught the sunlight, glinting innocently in Draco's hand.
"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry Potter said quietly. He had stepped forward, flanked by Ron Weasley. The Gryffindors were tense, ready for a fight. The Slytherins, emboldened by Draco's grin, mirrored them.
"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," Draco sneered, tossing the ball lightly in the air and catching it. "How about... up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Harry shouted, stepping closer.
Orion, who had been holstering his wand, let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries of sibling exasperation.
He stepped forward, walked up to Draco.
Smack.
Orion's hand connected lightly but firmly with the back of Draco's head.
"Ow!" Draco yelped, nearly dropping the Remembrall. He glared down at his brother. "What was that for?"
"For acting like a peasant," Orion drawled, his voice carrying clearly over the wind. "Draco, look at yourself. You are stealing a glass ball from a boy who just fell thirty feet. It's petty. It's beneath us."
"But—"
"A Malfoy does not need to steal trinkets," Orion interrupted, holding out his hand. "If you want a Remembrall, I will buy you a crate of them. Hell, I'll buy you the factory. But this? This is just... tacky. Besides, what use is a Remembrall to us? We are punctual. We are precise. We don't need a ball to tell us we forgot our brains."
Draco hesitated, looking between Orion's outstretched hand and Harry's angry face. The logic—or perhaps the insult to his dignity—seemed to penetrate. With a scowl, he dropped the ball into Orion's palm.
"Fine," Draco grumbled. "It's useless junk anyway."
Orion turned to Harry. He weighed the glass ball in his hand for a second.
"Potter," Orion said coolly.
He tossed the ball. It sailed through the air in a perfect arc.
Harry caught it easily, looking surprised.
"Take it," Orion said, his tone dismissive. "You lot clearly need all the help you can get, considering half your house can't even arrive at breakfast on time. Maybe the red smoke will remind you to set an alarm."
Harry stared at him, the hostility in his posture confused by the sudden return of the property. "Thanks," he muttered suspiciously.
"Don't mention it," Orion turned his back on them. "Literally. Don't."
He walked away from the group, heading toward a stone bench at the edge of the pitch. The other Slytherins, confused but following the alpha twin's lead, drifted after him.
"Why did you do that?" Pansy hissed, falling into step beside him. "Draco could have shown them! He's a brilliant flyer! He could have flown circles around Potter!"
Orion sat down on the bench, crossing his legs and smoothing his robes.
"Pansy," Orion said patiently. "Look at the gate."
Pansy looked.
Walking briskly toward the pitch from the castle, her emerald robes billowing, was Professor McGonagall. She was walking with purpose. Madam Hooch was beside her, looking agitated but pleased.
"If Draco had flown up there," Orion explained, "he would have been caught. By the Deputy Headmistress. In front of a witness. For bullying."
"So?" Pansy frowned. "It's just Potter."
"Potter is the Golden Boy," Orion said, watching the professors approach. "He has plot armor thicker than a dragon's hide. If he breaks the rules—say, by flying unsupervised to catch a Remembrall—McGonagall would probably just make him the Seeker of her team. Because 'talent deserves reward' or some Gryffindor nonsense."
He gestured to Draco, who was currently sulking but safe on the ground.
"But if Draco did it? Detention. Points lost. A letter home. We are Slytherins, Pansy. The rules apply to us twice as hard. Why risk it for a glass ball?"
Pansy's mouth formed a small 'o' of realization. "You saved him from trouble."
"I saved Slytherin from losing points," Orion corrected. "This year, we win the House Cup. And the Quidditch Cup. And I intend to do it by denying Potter every single opportunity to play the hero."
By the time he finished speaking, McGonagall and Hooch had reached the group.
"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall called out, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Orion sitting on the bench.
Orion stood up respectfully. "Professor."
"Madam Hooch informed me of the incident," McGonagall said, her face severe but her eyes holding a glint of... something softer. "She tells me you cast a Cushioning Charm to break Mr. Longbottom's fall."
"A Spongify charm, Professor," Orion corrected gently. "I merely softened the landing."
"Regardless," McGonagall nodded. "It was exceptional magic for a first-year. And while Madam Hooch has already awarded points..."
She paused, looking at the Gryffindors huddled nearby, then back at the Slytherin boy.
"I must also offer my personal thanks," she said stiffly. "Mr. Longbottom is... fragile. You prevented a significant injury. It was... well done."
Orion inclined his head. "He is a classmate, Professor. House divisions shouldn't matter when gravity is involved. I wouldn't want him hurt over a faulty broom."
McGonagall stared at him for a long moment. A Slytherin helping a Gryffindor purely out of safety concerns? It went against every stereotype the Purebloods had held for decades.
"Indeed," she murmured. "Madam Hooch has dismissed the class for today. You may return to your common rooms."
She turned and marched back toward the castle, her mind clearly whirling.
The walk back to the dungeons was lively. Draco, having recovered his spirits by convincing himself that Orion's intervention was actually a strategic masterstroke to lull Potter into a false sense of security, was chatting animatedly.
"Did you see Potter's face when you threw it back?" Draco laughed. "He looked so confused! He didn't know what to do!"
"Confusion is a weapon," Orion agreed.
"But Orion," Draco lowered his voice as they entered the cooler air of the dungeons. "Does this... does this create a Life Debt? Between Longbottom and us? Like... ancient magic stuff?"
Orion chuckled. "Draco, you read too many fantasy novels. A Life Debt is forged when you save someone from certain death. Neville was falling twenty feet onto grass. At worst, he breaks a wrist or a leg. It's painful, but not fatal. I saved him from a trip to the bone-knitting ward, not the afterlife."
"Oh," Draco looked slightly disappointed. "So no magical slave?"
"No magical slave," Orion confirmed. "But," he added with a smirk, "we do have social leverage. Next time Longbottom finds something interesting, or hears something... he owes me a favor. And favors, brother, are often worth more than debts."
He stopped at the stone wall of the common room.
"Noble Lineage," Orion spoke the password.
The wall slid open.
Inside, the warm green fire greeted them. Orion moved to his usual chair, sinking into the leather.
"Achievement Unlocked," Sparkle whispered.
Orion faked looking at the fireplace, thinking, while he checked the screen.
Tier: 2 (Advanced)
Name: Plot Armor Piercing (Rank 1)
Description: You denied the narrative! By intercepting the Remembrall incident, you prevented Harry Potter from his heroic flight. No flight means no McGonagall seeing him. No McGonagall seeing him means... no First Year Seeker? You just kicked the timeline in the shins.
Reward: 1x Invisibility Potion (Absolute Invisibility, Duration: 30 minutes).
Orion stared.
This was good stuff, alright.
"Potter won't be Seeker?" Orion thought, a slow smile spreading across his face. "If he doesn't fly... McGonagall doesn't recruit him. Which means Gryffindor is stuck with their old Seeker. Or they have to hold open tryouts."
"And since first years aren't allowed brooms..." Sparkle trailed off giggling.
"Harry is grounded," Orion finished. "The Golden Boy is a spectator."
He looked around the common room. The Snakes were plotting, studying, living.
"Checkmate, Dumbledore," Orion whispered. "Your Seeker is stuck in the stands."