The final weeks of August slipped away in a blur of focused, productive isolation.
Lucius Malfoy, still operating under a veil of extreme, Ministry-induced paranoia following the escape of Sirius Black, had decreed that the family would not be making their annual, highly visible excursion to Diagon Alley.
"We will not expose ourselves to the unwashed masses and the frantic panic of the crowds," Lucius had announced, signing a parchment order for Flourish and Blotts. "Everything we require can be procured via owl-order. The Manor is secure. We remain here."
Draco had grumbled about missing the opportunity to sneer at the Weasleys in Madam Malkin's, but Orion found the decision entirely agreeable. It meant no interruptions.
He spent his days dividing his time between Patronus spell training and the physical, exhausting practice of his Animagus transformation.
By the third week of August, Orion could transition from boy to Mute Swan in a matter of seconds, without the disorienting dizziness that had plagued his initial attempts. He had mapped the physical limitations of the form—his vision was sharper, his reaction time faster, but his ground mobility was comically clumsy.
He needed to test the aquatic capabilities.
But practicing in the Manor's pool presented a risk of discovery. If Lucius saw a massive, unmarked swan paddling in the basin, he was as likely to hex it for trespassing as he was to ask questions. Draco, meanwhile, would probably try to ride on it's back.
Orion needed an accomplice. He needed someone who could guarantee his privacy while he tested the form.
He found Narcissa in the drawing room, sipping tea and reading a letter from a cousin in France.
"Mother," Orion said softly, closing the heavy oak doors behind him and casting a silent Silencio charm.
Narcissa looked up, her sharp blue eyes instantly catching the seriousness in his posture. She set her letter aside. "What is it, Orion? You look as though you are about to confess to breaking one of your father's cursed heirlooms."
"Nothing is broken, Mother," Orion replied, stepping closer. "But I have something to share with you. Something that requires your absolute, unwavering discretion."
Narcissa's expression smoothed into a mask of pureblood composure, but the maternal concern beneath was palpable. "You have my word, Orion. What have you done?"
"I have been engaged in some... independent study over the summer," Orion began carefully. "I wanted to inform you, primarily because I know you worry about my tendency to explore magic beyond the standard curriculum. I wanted you to see that my experiments are controlled, and successful."
He didn't ask for permission. He simply took a step back, closed his eyes, and focused his intent.
The transformation was seamless. The dark robes melted into pristine white feathers, his height dropping as the massive, elegant form of the Mute Swan took his place on the Persian rug.
Narcissa gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She dropped her teacup, the china clattering against the saucer.
She stared at the enormous bird, her eyes wide with shock. Orion, in his swan form, stood perfectly still, turning his long neck to look at her with his distinct, indigo-blue eyes. He offered a polite, avian bow of his head.
"Orion," Narcissa breathed, standing up slowly. She approached him as if he were a mirage, reaching out a trembling hand to gently touch the soft, waterproof feathers of his wing. "An Animagus. You achieved the transformation."
Orion shifted back, the feathers dissolving into skin and robes in a blink. He stood before her, looking entirely calm.
"I did, Mother."
"But... the process," Narcissa stammered, her mind whirling. "The Mandrake leaf. You must have kept it in your mouth for the entire month of July! How did you eat? How did you speak without swallowing it?"
Orion didn't correct her assumption. The reality—that he had simply downed a magical cheat-code potion provided by a metaphysical system—was far too complicated and dangerous to explain. Let her believe he had endured the grueling, traditional method. It spoke to his discipline.
"It was challenging," Orion lied smoothly, offering a small, modest smile. "But the result was worth the discomfort."
Narcissa shook her head, a mixture of profound awe and deep, terrifying worry in her eyes. "It is N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration, Orion. It is incredibly dangerous. You could have mutated permanently. You could have lost your mind to the beast."
"I took every precaution," Orion assured her, tapping his temple. "My mental shields are robust, Mother. I was never in danger of losing myself."
Narcissa pulled him into a fierce, sudden hug. "You are too brilliant for your own good," she whispered into his hair.
When she pulled back, she looked at him sternly. "Have you informed your father? The Ministry requires registration. A Swan is a conspicuous form; if you are seen..."
"I have not told Father," Orion interrupted gently but firmly. "And I will not. You know he cannot keep a secret of this magnitude without trying to leverage it for political gain. And I have absolutely no intention of registering with the Ministry."
Narcissa frowned. "The penalty for an unregistered Animagus is a stay in Azkaban, Orion."
"Only if they catch me," Orion smirked. "The form is a tool for stealth, Mother. A trump card. Registering it defeats the entire purpose of having it."
He looked at her, his expression softening. "I told you because I trust you. And because... I require a favor."
Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "A favor?"
"I need to test the aquatic mobility of the form," Orion explained. "I need to use the pool. But I cannot have Draco bursting through the hedges, or Father deciding to take a stroll."
A slow, understanding smile spread across Narcissa's elegant features. The sheer, absurd practicality of the request amused her. Her son had achieved one of the most difficult feats of magic known to wizardkind, and his immediate concern was scheduling pool time.
"I see," Narcissa murmured. "Very well. I shall ensure you have your privacy."
Later that afternoon, the sun beat down on the marble basin of the lower lawn.
Narcissa Malfoy sat gracefully in a conjured lounge chair beneath the shade of a large, floating parasol. She wore a wide-brimmed sun hat and held a crystal glass of iced lemonade.
Lucius was locked in his study, dealing with Ministry correspondence regarding the Sirius Black manhunt. Draco had been explicitly instructed by his mother that she required a quiet afternoon of reading in the gardens, and that any interruption would result in the immediate confiscation of his new Nimbus 2001.
The perimeter was perfectly secure.
In the center of the cool, rippling pool, the pristine white Mute Swan paddled contentedly.
Orion found the aquatic sensation incredibly relaxing. The water felt different against the feathers—not wet, but supportive. His powerful, webbed feet propelled him through the basin with effortless, gliding grace. He ducked his long neck under the surface, enjoying the clarity of the runic-filtered water, before popping back up and shaking his head.
Narcissa watched him from her chair, taking a slow sip of her lemonade.
Despite the sheer illegality of the situation, and the profound danger her son had placed himself in to achieve it, she couldn't help but feel a deep, quiet surge of pride.
"He really is a handsome bird," Narcissa murmured to herself, watching the swan execute a perfect, tight turn in the deep end.
Orion let out a soft, contented honk, floating in the sun. The summer was almost over, but for this one, perfect afternoon, he was completely free.