The rhythm of the next two weeks was a steady, productive hum.
While the Hogwarts rumor mill churned above ground—primarily focused on the escaped Death Eaters and the occasional, spectacular failure of a student in Potions class—Orion remained buried in the subterranean quiet of the Room of Requirement.
He sorted through ancient texts, played games of fetch with Robin using tarnished silver goblets, and relentlessly tested the boundaries of the Room's transfiguration engine.
His hypothesis regarding the Room's mechanics proved incredibly accurate. The Room functioned on the exact same foundational principles as his own application of magic: Perception.
If Orion could perfectly perceive the physical and magical structure of an object, he could project that intent into the ambient magic of the Room, and the Room would mold the surrounding junk to fit that requirement. He successfully turned a pile of rusted armor into a perfectly functioning, albeit slightly menacing, training dummy simply by holding the concept of a 'sparring partner' firmly in his mind.
However, this reliance on perception also highlighted the Room's absolute limitations.
"It explains Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration perfectly," Orion noted aloud one afternoon, trying and failing to force the Room to turn a wooden block into a piece of cooked steak. The wood merely turned a sickly shade of brown and smelled faintly of burnt hair.
"You can't make lunch out of a chair," Sparkle observed from her interface.
"Because food is not a simple, monolithic object," Orion reasoned, tossing the ruined block aside. "It is a complex, biological matrix composed of thousands of interacting proteins, vitamins, and cellular structures. I can easily perceive the texture and the shape of a steak, just as I can perceive the density of a metal sword. But my mind cannot possibly comprehend the microscopic, biological blueprint required to actually create digestible nutrition."
He leaned against a cleared table. "Since I cannot perceive the biology, the Room cannot execute the transfiguration. The magic fails because the blueprint is incomplete."
"Fascinating," Sparkle buzzed, though her waveform looked distinctly lethargic. "Truly groundbreaking magical theory. Now... can we please do something fun?"
Orion raised an eyebrow. "I am organizing a millennium of magical history. That is fun."
"It's tedious," Sparkle complained digitally. "I'm bored out of my mind down here. How about you try to animate that huge, life-size troll statue over there and we can film an action movie? Or maybe you could actually try casting one of those highly unstable, localized weather spells from that book of Elemental Magic you found? Let's make it rain indoors!"
"No," Orion refused flatly. "I am not burning down the Room of Requirement because you are under-stimulated."
Sparkle's interface flashed a petulant orange. "Fine. Then tell me this: when are we actually planning on retrieving the Cup and the Ring? You've had the Diadem for weeks. Shouldn't we be actively planning the Gringotts heist right now?"
"We have to secure them before the start of our fourth year, yes," Orion agreed, his tone calm and measured. "But that is the key point, Sparkle. We still have the entire second half of this academic year, plus the summer. I am taking it slow. I am not rushing headlong into a Goblin stronghold or a cursed shack without absolute preparation."
He frowned slightly, his mind shifting from magical theory back to the tense, political reality of his family.
"Besides," Orion added, "I have noticed a distinct pattern in the correspondence. Draco has been receiving fewer and fewer letters from Mother and Father this month. They usually write at least twice a week. Now, it's barely once."
"You think they're ignoring him, and by extension you?"
"I think there is a major reason behind their silence," Orion corrected, his eyes darkening with concern. "A reason Mother is deliberately hesitating to mention in writing, knowing that owl post can be intercepted. I have a very strong feeling that Aunt Bella has finally made contact, or that the Auror scrutiny on the Manor has intensified significantly."
He looked at the dark ceiling of the Room.
"I want to wait until I return home for the Christmas holidays before I make any major, irreversible plans regarding the final two Horcruxes. I need to assess the ground situation at the Manor first."
The period of self-imposed isolation finally concluded on the Saturday before the Christmas holidays officially began.
Orion had already returned to his trunk-study via Dobby's Side-along Apparition earlier in the evening. He was sitting at his desk, reviewing a translation of a rather interesting blood-boiling curse, when the heavy lid of the trunk opened above him.
His Reflection Clone climbed down the wooden ladder, looking exactly as immaculate as Orion did, despite having just endured a grueling, three-hour detention with Professor McGonagall.
The clone hit the floorboards and offered a sharp, triumphant smirk.
"Congratulations are in order, I believe," the clone announced smoothly.
"Oh?" Orion asked, setting his quill down.
"We have been officially granted permission to attend the Hogsmeade village visit tomorrow," the clone confirmed, crossing its arms. "Thanks entirely, of course, to my flawless, highly studious behavior during all of the previous detentions. McGonagall couldn't find a single reason to hold us back."
"Well done, then," Orion smiled, genuinely pleased. Hogsmeade offered a necessary change of scenery.
"Just a quick note for the itinerary," the clone added, pointing a finger. "Luna Lovegood caught me in the corridor after dinner. She explicitly asked for a box of specific, fruit-flavored candies from Honeydukes. Be sure to acquire them."
"I will," Orion promised. "Is that all?"
"That's it. Sync?"
"Sync."
Orion focused his magic. The clone dissolved into a rush of silver light, slamming back into his chest.
Orion closed his eyes, absorbing the knowledge of Material composition and touch theory topic of today's detention, the tedious conversations with Draco's bragging, and the other useless observations of the day.
He opened his eyes, letting out a slow, tired breath. The mental load was heavy, but manageable.
"Alright," Orion murmured, extinguishing the Lumos ring and beginning the climb up the ladder into the dark Slytherin dormitory.
He closed the trunk, locking it securely, and slid into his four-poster bed. The castle was quiet, the anticipation of the upcoming holidays hanging in the air.
"Time to sleep," Orion whispered into the darkness, pulling the covers up. "Tomorrow is my first official Hogsmeade weekend. Technically."
He closed his eyes, his mind already mapping the route to Honeydukes.