The wind whipped across the grounds, biting through Orion's cloak, but he didn't shiver. He stood perfectly still under the piercing gaze of Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster's question hanging heavy in the twilight.
"And what are your thoughts on the use of such power, Orion?"
Orion didn't answer immediately. He looked away from Dumbledore's searching blue eyes and turned his face toward the imposing, jagged silhouette of the Forbidden Forest. He let the silence stretch, giving the question the deliberate contemplation it deserved.
"The question is quite deep, Headmaster," Orion finally said, his voice calm and carrying a maturity that belied his twelve years. "And the answer changes depending on who you ask."
He kept his gaze on the dark tree line.
"In a generalized manner of speaking, power creates fear among others. The definition of how one uses that power varies wildly from person to person. Some use it to subjugate, while others use it to protect."
Orion turned his head back to Dumbledore. "I read a muggle saying once, in a book... I once owl-ordered myself. It stated that 'power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.'"
Dumbledore nodded slowly, recognizing the quote. "Lord Acton. A perceptive man. And do you agree with him, Orion?"
"I think it is a convenient excuse for weak men who lack discipline," Orion replied smoothly. "Power is just a tool. It doesn't corrupt. It reveals. It strips away the necessity of playing nice and shows what a person truly wants."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"But, if you are asking for my personal opinion on the use of such power? Of the dark and volatile knowledge hidden in those restricted shelves?"
Orion met Dumbledore's gaze squarely.
"My ideal use of that power is not to use it at all."
Dumbledore raised a silver eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the paradox. "You seek knowledge purely to possess it, and never to apply it?"
"Application and necessity are two different things," Orion clarified. He raised a hand and pointed a long finger toward the dark depths of the forest.
"I have a feeling," Orion said, his tone shifting to something more conversational, "that Hagrid has probably released Fluffy back into the Forbidden Forest by now. Or at least somewhere out of bounds."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled slightly. "Rubeus did find him a suitable... retirement habitat, yes."
"Last year," Orion continued, wrapping his cloak tighter against the wind. "Before I went down to the third-floor corridor, I spoke with Hagrid. I learned about Fluffy. I learned about his terrifying appetite, and more importantly, I learned that a simple bit of music would lull the beast right to sleep."
He looked at Dumbledore. "Honestly, Headmaster, that was a staggering piece of intelligence. The idea that a Class XXXXX magical creature, a guardian of the highest order, could be neutralized by a lullaby... it was fascinating."
"It is often the most formidable creatures that possess the most delicate weaknesses," Dumbledore murmured.
"Exactly," Orion agreed. "Do you know what my first thought was when I decided to visit that corridor? I knew I was going to try and feed him the meat. I wanted to pet the dog. But I also knew the risk. My thought was, 'If Fluffy attacks me when I offer the meat, I will immediately try and sing a song to stop him.'"
Orion offered a dry, self-deprecating chuckle. "Ignoring the fact that my singing voice would probably just agitate him further, the fact remains: I had the knowledge. I had the 'power' to neutralize him."
He turned back to the forest, his expression turning serious.
"My intention was never to hurt Fluffy. My intention wasn't even to put him to sleep unless absolutely necessary for my own survival. I prayed to Merlin that I would never have to use that specific piece of knowledge. I just wanted to feed him."
Orion looked back at the Headmaster.
"Thankfully, Fluffy is a meat enthusiast, and diplomacy via ribeye prevailed. I never had to use the music. I never had to use that power."
Orion lowered his hand, slipping it back into his pocket where Robin was currently sleeping.
"That is my policy for knowledge and power, Headmaster," Orion said firmly. "I learn the spells. I read the restricted books. I understand the dark curses and the complex runes. Not because I want to cast them at anyone, or because I wish to conquer the Ministry. I learn them so that I am never caught unaware. I hoard the knowledge so that I have the option to survive."
He offered a small, respectful bow.
"Similarly, any information—unless it is something benign that harms no one, like a localized heating charm for a swimming pool—is kept in reserve. It is a shield, not a sword. I hope that makes some sense to you, sir."
Dumbledore remained silent for a long time. The wind rustled his heavy plum robes.
"It makes a great deal of sense, Orion," Dumbledore finally said, his voice warm and devoid of its previous heavy scrutiny. "It is a mature, if somewhat... solitary... philosophy. To carry weapons you hope never to draw requires a great deal of restraint."
"I have plenty of practice restraining myself, sir," Orion smiled, thinking of his daily interactions with Draco.
"Indeed," Dumbledore chuckled. He gestured back toward the warm, glowing windows of the castle. "The night grows cold, and I believe the house-elves are preparing something particularly decadent for dinner. Shall we return?"
"Gladly, Headmaster."
They turned their backs on the Forbidden Forest and walked side-by-side up the sloping lawn. The conversation shifted to lighter topics—Dumbledore inquired about the swimming pool he had mentioned, and Orion was quite enthusiastic in telling him of Draco's head first hit on the water surface.
As they reached the heavy oak doors of the Entrance Hall, they parted ways.
"Good evening, Orion," Dumbledore said, ascending the marble staircase. "And... happy reading."
"Good evening, Professor."
Orion headed down toward the dungeons. He felt a profound sense of satisfaction. He had navigated the interrogation perfectly. He had given Dumbledore a philosophical framework that explained his actions without making him look like a budding Voldemort. He had framed his ambition as self-defense.
"You played him like a fiddle," Sparkle whispered as he reached the common room entrance.
"I didn't lie," Orion corrected mentally. "I just told him the truth in a way he would appreciate. Besides, this is Dumbledore. A simple conversation is not likely enough to have him turn a blind eye towards me. But, sooner or later, he was going to be interested in me anyways. If this conversation gives him some idea about me. Then, there is less likely, a chance of him categorizing me as a young Tom Riddle."
He stepped into the warmth of the Slytherin common room. Tomorrow was October 31st. Halloween.
The anniversary of the troll. The anniversary of the Potters' death.
And, if the timeline held true... the day the Chamber of Secrets would officially open.
"Get some rest, Sparkle," Orion murmured, heading for his dormitory. "Tomorrow, the real fun begins."