The Accusation
It was six adult charging at the empty classroom, professor snape, professor sprout, professor McGonigal, headmaster dumbledore and the Malfoys, Before Orion was able to put a word in snape, Lucious silence him with a silencing charm, Orion could not get a word in. Tonks immediately pointing her wand at Lucious with a face filled with red colour,
Before anything escalated in a even more uglier situation
Dumbledore ask professor Snape to cancel the Malfoys spell and ask Tonks to lower her wand.
His tone was mild—almost conversational—but it carried the unmistakable weight of authority.
"Now," he said gently, folding his hands behind his back, "I have just been informed by Mr. Malfoy that someone—allegedly—sprayed him and his wife with dragon dung fertilizer."
Lucius stiffened.
Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.
"Curiously, however, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Malfoy saw fit to explain why such a… colourful incident might have occurred and why he might know the perpetrator immediately." He glanced toward Leo. "Care to enlighten us, Mr. Lee?"
Mr and Mrs Malfoy already know it was him, despite Leo effort to avoid getting notice that a first year, black hair and Hufflepuff coloured robe attack them, they know who his mother is, his mother was also known to get back at his enemy, and they know he the only one that they talk terribly today so the option is just Leo alone.
Leo felt every gaze snap toward him.
For a split second, he looked exactly like what he was—a shaken first-year, small and outmatched.
Then something in him shifted.
He straightened.
His breathing evened. His expression smoothed into something calm, composed—observant. Years of instinct and control as a Metamorphmagus settled into place. He met Dumbledore's eyes steadily.
"I don't know why people are trying to find me, Professor," Leo said clearly with a tone that he the one who should be offended.
The words were barely out before Narcissa snapped.
"You know exactly what you did, you—confused pedigree!"
The room froze.
Narcissa gasped.
Her hand flew to her mouth, too late to catch the words she had already unleashed.
Leo didn't hesitate.
He turned sharply, his voice faltered weakly and hoarse.
"I don't know why you are angry," he said. "Because I should be the one upset."
He looked directly at Dumbledore—and then Professor Sprout.
"I spent hours crying here," Leo continued, his tone steady but raw beneath the surface, "being comforted by my family because a grown witch and wizard called me a confused pedigree and suggested I use my ability to please a grown wizard desires."
The silence was deafening.
Tonks, who had been bristling moments earlier, let out a sharp, incredulous laugh—not mocking, but bitter with recognition. She finally know why Leo did what he did and why this situation is happening right now.
"Oh, this isn't new," she said bluntly. "People have been saying things like that to Metamorphmagi for years. Tell me why is a first-year being spoken to like that by his own aunt and uncle?"
Every professor in the room turned to face the Malfoys.
Professor Sprout's usual warmth vanished. What replaced it was something rare and dangerous quiet fury.
She stepped in front of Leo without hesitation.
"Did they say those things to you?" she asked gently.
"Yes," Leo answered.
"And did you throw my fertilizer at them?"
Leo met her eyes.
"They did say those things," he replied calmly. "But I was not the one who did that."
He lied as if it were the absolute truth of the universe.
She saw his eyes full of confidence and an evidence of redness from crying that tell everything he said was true, Professor Sprout's expression softened instantly.
Satisfied that his badgers is telling the truth but was angered that the fact how Leo was being called that word is also the truth.
She straightened and turned to face the others Snape, Dumbledore, and the Malfoys.
"My badger did not do this," she said firmly. "I suggest we look for another perpetrator."
"We were all here together," Orion said smoothly, stepping forward. "Studying. Hanging out. Why should he be punished?"
Lucius and Narcissa's faces flushed a furious red.
Before either could respond, Dumbledore spoke again, tone calm and final.
"Well," he said thoughtfully, "there appears to be very little we can do. Mr. Lee has not broken any Hogwarts rules before so the fact that he immediately taught of such action is 0 to 100."
He glanced pointedly at Lucius.
"And if the events described are accurate levitating a sack of dragon dung that is according to professor sprout the heaviest in the greenhouse and animating a suit of Armor, then the individual responsible would possess spellwork well beyond a first-year's capability. Third-year level at minimum, no matter how talented the child."
A pause.
"I therefore suggest," Dumbledore continued pleasantly, "that we return to my office to discuss this matter further."
The meaning was clear: this conversation is over.
Lucius and Narcissa donned their masks once more, dignity snapping back into place through sheer force of pride. Without another word, they turned and strode out, footsteps sharp against the stone. Leo could see Narcissa hand was clenching her wand really hard.
They didn't want to yield down but seeing professor Dumbledore and professor Sprout protecting Leo like that they have to yield.
As the door closed behind them, Dumbledore lingered for half a heartbeat and then both him and professor McGonigal exit the classroom while professor sprout try to console Leo.
Before leaving professor dumbledor glanced back.
And winked.
The aftermath,
After professor spout give a moment of reassurance toward Leo and helping any way she can, she turn and leave the classroom.
Orion exhaled sharply, finally loosening his tie and raking a hand through his perfectly combed hair until it fell into controlled disarray. The tension that had kept him rigid since the confrontation slowly bled out of his shoulders.
"Thankfully," he said dryly, "you've never been caught breaking the rules before, so you lies is more believable ." Then he paused, narrowing his eyes at Leo. "But now that you mention it.... why didn't you tell me you could do magic at that level?"
Leo shrugged, far too casually for someone have survive from expulsion.
"Well, I haven't really had the opportunity to show you yet," he said. "The only person who knows is Iris. I use simultaneous magic when I paint with her, i use it to levitate the art supplies, stabilizing canvases, adjusting light. I practiced it so I could paint efficiently while moving from place to place."
"well will this Iris tattle" Orion said
"No, her mind is only about painting , but even that I don't think she even notices or cares of my level of magic despite hanging out together" Leo said casually.
Tonks let out a low chuckle, then suddenly froze mid-smile.
"Wait a minute," she said, pointing at him. "You're telling me you haven't been caught once? No detentions? No points deducted?" She stared at him in disbelief. "How?! I lose points almost every week."
Orion blinked.
"…Lyra, Vela, me, and even you," he added, nodding at Tonks, "all lost points in first year. Repeatedly."
Leo's lips curled into a grin.
"I guess I'm just that good, huh?"
As he spoke, his posture shifted instinctively hands settling on his hips, chest subtly broadening, nose lifting just a fraction higher. It was exaggerated, ridiculous, and entirely intentional.
Orion snorted.
Tonks burst out laughing.
The sound cut through the lingering heaviness like sunlight through clouds.
After the laughter faded, Orion's expression softened again. "Joking aside," he said quietly, "are you actually okay? The way they spoke to you was… disgusting."
Tonks nodded, her voice firmer now. "Yeah. That wasn't okay. Just because we're Metamorphmagi doesn't mean we exist for other people's pleasure."
Leo looked at them—really looked at them— although he is not comfortable to talk about any negative news, he didn't want to worry them.
"Well," he admitted, "I'm not okay. Part of me still wants to hex them." He huffed a breath. "But… I know I have to be strong about this.. and I will be okay."
Orion rested a hand briefly on Leo's shoulder. Tonks stayed close, her presence solid and protective.
The three of them talked after that—not rushed, not shallow. Both try to unpacked what had happened, how it felt, and the larger picture behind it all. Tonks shared her own experiences. Orion listened more than he spoke. Although Leo try to shift any topic since he felt it was to uncomfortable to talk about it, they persistently encouraged him to open up, which helped ease his emotions a little.
Mother's Wrath
That night, long after the castle had quieted and the torches burned low, Orion sat at his desk in the Slytherin dormitory, parchment spread before him. He rewrote the letter twice before settling on the final version careful, precise, stripped of emotion but heavy with implication.
Lyra and Vela had been informed earlier that dinner time Orion approach them as the Ravenclaw was talking about the display of Slytherin quidditch cup was ruin, they thought that some brave Ravenclaw decided to ignite the fight, they were discussing what they gonna do if another fight between two house will appear again.
Orion had pulled them aside during dinner in the Great Hall, his voice low and controlled as he explained what had actually happened. As the story continued, both faces—originally calm—became tense. They froze.
Mortified didn't begin to cover it.
Vela's hand had tightened around her fork until her knuckles went white. Lyra's expression had gone frighteningly still. After a brief, silent exchange between the siblings, they agreed—Orion should be the one to write. One letter. One voice. Clear, restrained, impossible to misunderstand. They were disappointed that they weren't there when it happen but also was angry that Orion was the one telling the story instead of Leo but he himself was no where near the great hall. They realized Leo had probably skipped dinner to avoid the conversation.
When the ink finally dried, Orion folded the parchment with deliberate care and handed it to his owl companion.
"Straight to London," he murmured.
The owl took off without a sound.