October bled away into the damp chill of late autumn, culminating in the arrival of Halloween. The castle, seemingly sentient in its festive spirit, transformed overnight. The scent of roasting pumpkin and cinnamon wafted through the stone corridors, so thick you could practically chew it. Massive pumpkins, grown by Hagrid to the size of garden sheds, were being levitated into the Great Hall, and live bats fluttered in the eaves, adding a gothic flair that the Slytherins appreciated, even if the Hufflepuffs found it unnerving.
In the dungeons, however, the mood was less festive and more industrial.
The "300 Point Strategy" was operating at peak efficiency. The First Year Slytherins were no longer a group of disparately talented individuals; they were a machine. Under Orion's guidance (and occasional threat), they had formed a formidable academic phalanx.
Even Gregory Goyle, a boy whose previous relationship with gravity was purely accidental, stood in the center of the common room, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Goyle grunted, giving his wand a surprisingly delicate swish.
The feather on the table didn't catch fire. It didn't explode. It rose, shaky but defiant, three feet into the air.
The common room erupted in polite applause. Draco clapped Goyle on the back. "Brilliant, Greg! You're getting it!"
DING.
Orion, watching from his armchair like a proud, exhausted parent, smiled as the blue screen flickered into existence.
[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]
Tier: 1 (Basic)
Name: Prof. Malfoy, I Have a Question
Description: You did it. You taught a rock to float. Or rather, you taught the boy who thinks "rock" is a food group how to manipulate gravity. The sheer statistical improbability of Goyle passing Charms has broken the System's predictive algorithm. You aren't just a student anymore; you are an uncertified, unpaid teaching assistant.
Reward: 1x "Chalk of endless dust" (Prank Item).
"If you can teach Goyle," Sparkle noted dryly, "you can teach anyone. Maybe you should open a tutoring service. 'Malfoy's Miracle Workers'."
"It's not a miracle," Orion replied internally. "It's fear. They know if they fail, I'll make them read Hogwarts: A History out loud."
The strategy was further bolstered by their Head of House. Severus Snape was prowling the corridors with a renewed vigor, docking points from Gryffindor for offenses ranging from "breathing too loudly" to "walking with intent."
Just yesterday, Orion had watched Snape take ten points from Ron Weasley for wearing his tie "aggressively."
DING.
[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]
Tier: 1 (Basic)
Name: Inner Peace
Description: You have witnessed the pettiness of Severus Snape and found tranquility in the suffering of Gryffindors. Note: This achievement does not grant you the ability to breathe underwater, despite the name. Please do not try to live in the Black Lake.
Reward: 1x Bottle of Calming Draught (Snape's Private Reserve Quality).
"Everything is falling into place," Orion murmured.
However, as Halloween morning dawned, a wrinkle appeared in the plan.
Orion had the Unguent of Decay ready—a vial of liquid so foul he had sealed it inside three layers of glass and stored it in the absolute void of his Inventory. He had the spells. But he had a logistical problem.
In the original timeline, Quirrell lets the Troll in during the feast. Everyone is in the Great Hall.
If Orion was missing from the feast when the alarm was raised, he would be a suspect. Or at least, people would ask questions. "Where was Malfoy?" "Why wasn't he eating pumpkin tart?"
He needed an alibi. A solid, iron-clad, faculty-witnessed alibi that placed him away from the Great Hall but close to the scene of the crime just before it happened.
He needed a teacher.
"Snape is out," Orion calculated as he walked to lunch. "He's too sharp. He's a spy. If I try to distract him, he'll think I'm up to something dark. McGonagall is too busy organizing the feast. Sprout is... well, Sprout. I need someone enthusiastic. Someone easily distracted by theory."
He smiled.
The incident with Hermione Granger happened, as expected, during the afternoon Charms lesson. Since Slytherins had Charms with Ravenclaw, Orion wasn't there to witness Ron's cruelty firsthand.
However, as Orion was making his way up the stairs toward the charms cla before dinner, he saw a bushy-haired blur sprint past him, her face buried in her hands.
Hermione was crying. She was heading straight for the girl's bathroom on the first floor.
"The script is running," Orion whispered. "Time to intervene."
He checked his watch—the Astrum Navigator. It was 5:30 PM. The feast started at 6:00 PM. Quirrell would burst in shortly after.
He had thirty minutes to secure his alibi and position himself.
Orion adjusted his robes and headed for the Charms classroom on the third floor.
The door was open. Inside, Professor Flitwick was standing on a stack of books, waving his wand to clear away a layer of soot from a desk near the back.
"Oh, dear, dear," Flitwick squeaked. "Mr. Finnigan really must learn the difference between 'swish' and 'poke'. The feather wasn't meant to incinerate."
"Professor?" Orion knocked gently on the doorframe.
Flitwick jumped, nearly toppling off his books. He turned, beaming when he saw his favorite Slytherin prodigy.
"Mr. Malfoy! Come in, come in! A bit late for office hours, isn't it? The feast is about to begin!"
"I apologize for the intrusion, Professor," Orion said, stepping inside and adopting a look of intellectual curiosity. "I was just on my way down, but... I had a question that has been plaguing me all afternoon. I didn't want to lose the thought."
"A question? Of course!" Flitwick hopped down. "What is it? Levitation theory? Motion arcs?"
"Fireworks, actually," Orion said. He drew his Hawthorn wand. "I've been reading ahead—standard curiosity—and I mastered the Verdimillious and Periculum charms."
He demonstrated. A flick of the wrist sent a shower of green sparks, followed by a burst of red ones, illuminating the dim classroom.
"Excellent form!" Flitwick clapped. "Truly third-year standard!"
"Thank you," Orion smiled modestly. "But... I read in a footnote about a variant. An older spell. Tonitrus. It's supposed to create a localized thunderclap with a flash of lightning, rather than just sparks. I tried it, but..."
He cast a spell—deliberately botching the wand movement slightly. A small pop and a fizzle of yellow light appeared.
"I can't seem to get the resonance right," Orion sighed. "I like a bit of a bang, you see. For... celebrations."
Flitwick's eyes lit up. He was a former Dueling Champion; he loved the flashy stuff.
"Ah! Tonitrus!" Flitwick squeaked excitedly. "A tricky one! It's elemental resonance, Mr. Malfoy! You're treating it like a light charm, but it requires a more... forceful intent. Like this!"
Flitwick whipped out his wand. CRACK-BOOM. A miniature thundercloud appeared, flashed lightning, and vanished.
"Wicked," Orion grinned genuinely. "So it's the wrist snap?"
"Precisely! Here, try it with me. Elbow up!"
For the next twenty minutes, Orion played the eager student perfectly. He asked questions about ionization. He asked about color variations. He deliberately failed a few times before getting it right, ensuring the lesson dragged on.
"You are milking this," Sparkle observed. "The man is going to miss the appetizers."
"It's for a good cause," Orion thought back.
Finally, the castle bell tolled the hour. Six o'clock.
Flitwick froze. "Oh my! The time! The feast has started! Headmaster Dumbledore will be giving his speech!"
"Oh no," Orion looked stricken. "I'm so sorry, Professor. I got carried away."
"Nonsense, nonsense! A curious mind is never a waste!" Flitwick began gathering his books frantically. "But we must hurry! The pumpkin tart waits for no wizard!"
Orion stepped to the door, looking out into the corridor.
"Professor," Orion said, pausing. "Since we are rushing... perhaps we should take the staircase near the Transfiguration courtyard? It cuts through to the first floor faster than the Grand Staircase."
"A sound idea!" Flitwick nodded, joining him.
"Although..." Orion hesitated, looking troubled. "On my way up here... I passed a group of Gryffindor girls. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, I think. They were whispering about Miss Granger."
Flitwick stopped. "Miss Granger? Is something wrong?"
"I heard she was crying," Orion said, injecting just the right amount of concern into his voice. "Something about... hiding in the girls' bathroom on the first floor? She seemed quite upset. I wouldn't want her to miss the feast, especially on Halloween. It can be a lonely night for homesick first-years."
Flitwick's expression softened immediately. "Oh, poor dear. You are quite right, Mr. Malfoy. It would be terrible for her to miss the festivities."
He looked at Orion, beaming with approval. "How thoughtful of you to mention it. Ten points to Slytherin for inter-house camaraderie!"
"Just looking out for our year," Orion shrugged modestly.
"Well then!" Flitwick adjusted his hat. "We can swing past the first-floor bathroom on our way to the Great Hall. It is barely a detour. We shall check on Miss Granger and escort her down together."
"Lead the way, Professor," Orion said, gesturing down the hall.
As the tiny Professor trotted ahead, wand in hand, Orion fell into step behind him.
His alibi was secured. He was with a teacher. He was "concerned" about a student. And he was currently heading directly toward the location where a twelve-foot Mountain Troll was about to crash the party.
He touched his pocket, where the vial of Unguent of Decay sat cold and waiting.
"Happy Halloween," Orion whispered.