The Slytherin dungeons were quiet, the rhythmic, comforting slosh of the Black Lake against the windows lulling the first-night jitters of the younger students to sleep.
Orion Malfoy sat cross-legged in the center of his four-poster bed, the heavy green curtains sealed tight. He had already established his territory—the expanded trunk rested securely at the foot of his bed, and Robin's intricate rock-burrow stood proudly on the bedside table.
Currently, the Niffler was rolling ecstatically across the duvet, aggressively wrestling with a shiny brass button he had pilfered from Goyle's discarded robes.
"Sparkle," Orion murmured, watching the creature tumble over a pillow. "We need to talk strategy."
The blue interface blinked into existence, glowing with a soft, attentive luminescence. "I'm always ready for a tactical breakdown, boss. What's on your mind? How to avoid Dementors while sneaking into Hogsmeade?"
"No," Orion shook his head, running a hand through his dark hair. "I'm thinking bigger. Much bigger."
He leaned back against the headboard, his indigo eyes focused on the empty space above the blue screen.
"I've been analyzing our operational methods over the last two years," Orion began slowly, parsing his thoughts. "And I've realized something. Except for the Dementors, this year is practically a dead zone. Granger is going to be running herself ragged with a Time-Turner, but trying to steal that is a logistical nightmare since McGonagall oversees it directly. There's no basilisk, no possessed teacher, no immediate threat to the castle itself."
"Sirius Black is technically a threat," Sparkle pointed out.
"Black is hunting a rat," Orion dismissed flatly. "He doesn't care about me. He doesn't even care about Potter, really, except as a protective measure. The point is... last year, waiting for the plot to progress naturally was excruciating."
He paused, a flicker of genuine annoyance crossing his face.
"Sure, maintaining the canon timeline allowed me to snipe a few specific achievements. But it was boring. The most exciting parts of the last two years—the Higgs hostage situation, and my duel with Potter—were anomalies. They were unexpected deviations from the script."
He looked directly at the interface, his expression hardening into cold, absolute resolve.
"I am tired of waiting, Sparkle. I am tired of playing defense."
The blue waveform spiked slightly, sensing the shift in his tone. "You want to go on the offensive."
"I want to break the board," Orion stated.
He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a low, intense whisper.
"I want to ask you a serious question, Sparkle. If I decide to completely abandon the timeline... if I decide to deal with Voldemort at the exact point he resurrects at the end of the fourth year... do you think I can do it?"
The interface remained silent for a long moment, the waveform flatlining as it processed the sheer magnitude of the proposition.
"You are talking about truncating a seven-year war into a four-year speedrun," Sparkle finally responded, her digital voice laced with awe. "You want to skip the Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh years entirely."
"Yes," Orion confirmed. "My vague plan is this: Over the next two years, I locate, collect, and neutralize every single Horcrux."
"Destroy them?"
"Destroying them is the last option," Orion corrected, his eyes glinting with a dangerous curiosity. "I want to study them. Understand the soul magic. But I will deal with them. The Diary is already in my possession. The Diadem is in the Room of Requirement. The Ring is in Little Hangleton. The Locket... well, the Locket is complicated, but I have an idea. The Cup is in Gringotts, which will require a heist. And the snake hasn't even been made a Horcrux yet."
He ticked them off on his fingers.
"If I secure the anchors over the next twenty-four months, Voldemort will be entirely mortal when he emerges from that cauldron in the graveyard at the end of the Triwizard Tournament."
"You intend to fight him in the graveyard?" Sparkle asked, her interface flashing red with warning.
"I intend to make sure he is at his absolute weakest," Orion clarified. "I know I cannot be the one to cast the final, killing blow. I don't believe in prophecies, but I am not arrogant enough to ignore the fundamental narrative laws of this universe. Fate has decreed that Potter must face him."
Orion smirked, a cold, ruthless expression.
"But Fate never said Potter had to fight a god. If I strip Voldemort of his immortality, cripple his resources, and weaken his resurrection... he becomes a non-existent threat should he rise back to power. I can hand Potter a thoroughly defanged Dark Lord on a silver platter."
He crossed his arms, his decision solidifying into concrete determination.
"With the Protagonist Halo active, maintaining the timeline is going to be impossible anyway. The universe is going to throw chaos at me regardless. So, I say fuck it. Let's go all out."
He stared at the blue screen, challenging it. "Do you think I am capable of it? Can I pull this off?"
Sparkle didn't answer immediately. The interface glowed a deep, pulsing purple, shifting through rapid calculations.
Finally, the waveform stabilized into a solid, brilliant gold.
"Orion," Sparkle's voice rang in his mind, stripped of its usual sarcasm, replaced by an undeniable, fierce loyalty. "You took down a Basilisk with a few birds, a chicken, and a glorified flashbang. You gaslit the entire Hogwarts faculty into believing you were a concerned scholar. You broke a house-elf's enslavement bond by dropping a blanket on your father's head."
She projected a massive, glowing checkmark onto the screen.
"If anyone in this multiverse can speedrun the destruction of a Dark Lord in four years while maintaining perfect grades... it is you. This year is practically free real estate. Next year will be as well, if you play your cards right. The board is yours, boss. Break it."
Orion let out a slow, satisfied breath. The tension in his chest dissolved, replaced by a thrilling, electric anticipation.
"Excellent," Orion whispered, reaching out to scratch Robin, who had finally exhausted himself and fallen asleep on the duvet.
"The waiting game is officially over," Orion murmured into the quiet darkness of the dormitory. "Tomorrow, we start hunting."