Without a word, Orion turned his attention to the matchstick. Without any gesture or incantation, it slowly rose from the desk to eye level. Under their astonished gazes, the matchstick slowly transformed into a perfect sewing needle—gleaming, immaculate, and still floating in the air before his impassive face.
A complete silence fell over the classroom. Every student's eyes were fixed on the floating needle, stunned. Emma and Max, already familiar with Orion's wandless, non-verbal magic, showed no reaction this time. They were mostly surprised by the class's reaction, especially that of Professor McGonagall, which captured their attention.
Professor McGonagall froze for a moment, her usually controlled expression betraying a brief moment of astonishment. She approached Orion, her brows furrowed, her gaze fixed on the needle with a glint of disbelief in her eyes.
"By Merlin!" she exclaimed, visibly taken aback by what she had just witnessed. Emma and Max exchanged glances, realizing that what Orion had done far exceeded expectations, even for a particularly gifted student.
McGonagall took a second to collect herself before addressing Orion again, this time with a mixture of admiration and perplexity. "A transformation without incantation, without gestures, and without a wand... it's... simply incredible."
The silence in the classroom was so profound that you could have heard a pin drop. The students, unaware of the gravity of the situation, were hanging on the professor's every word, slowly realizing that this feat was far more than an unusual display of magic.
Orion merely nodded, his expression still impassive. "Thank you, professor," he responded calmly, as if the achievement was nothing out of the ordinary in his eyes.
Professor McGonagall, still in shock from Orion's demonstration, quickly recovered, but her surprise remained evident. Stepping closer, she fixed her gaze on the floating needle with a mix of disbelief and admiration.
"How did you do that, Mr. Maga?" she asked, her voice nearly impatient. "How could you perform such a transformation so effortlessly? And without gestures or incantation! By Merlin, how is it even possible to do this without using your wand!?"
Her bright eyes locked on Orion, visibly troubled by the magnitude of what she had just witnessed.
Without any reaction, Orion calmly responded, as if it explained everything: "I am a Maga."
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in discontent, clearly unsatisfied with this answer. "I knew and taught your mother, Isolde Maga, as well as your sister, Arcana Maga. Neither of them possessed such a skill."
Orion sighed. "They are matriarchs; they have their own strengths. As a male of the lineage, I hold a different title... and thus, different abilities."
Professor McGonagall, visibly surprised, raised her eyebrows slightly. "Could you... elaborate?" she asked, her interest piqued, aware that the Magas were known for guarding their secrets closely.
Orion looked at her incredulously, as if to say: "Really? Do you really think I'm going to answer that?"
A bit embarrassed, McGonagall awkwardly cleared her throat before averting her gaze, realizing she had been tactless.
Orion let out a deep sigh, revealing a hint of frustration. "I knew this would happen eventually, so we might as well get it over with."
He straightened slightly, raising his voice just enough for everyone to hear. "I am... unique. I am more comfortable performing magic without a wand, and I am also exceptionally skilled in magic, even by my family's standards. I imagine I'll continue to surprise people. My level, especially in practical magic, is far beyond others my age. Honestly, I think I could have graduated from Hogwarts before even setting foot here if the N.E.W.T. exams were limited to practical skills."
Professor McGonagall couldn't suppress a small chuckle at Orion's bold statement. "While your abilities are undoubtedly extraordinary, Mr. Maga, it's rather naive to believe you could pass Hogwarts' most demanding N.E.W.T. exams, even if they were limited to practical trials."
Her amused remark sparked a few muffled laughs from the students, with some exchanging mocking glances. However, Orion remained impassive, merely shrugging. He had said what he needed to say. Whether his peers or professors believed him or not was of little concern to him.
He knew that, in the days or weeks to come, his words would spread throughout the school. But for him, the most important thing was to stop being questioned about his uniqueness.
Professor McGonagall, after one last glance at Orion, turned her attention back to the other students, resuming her role as a teacher. The rest of the lesson proceeded without any further notable incidents.
Later, during lunch, Orion found himself in the Great Hall, eating his meal in silence while constant whispers surrounded him. All around, students pointed at him, their gazes ranging from disbelief to disdain, with a few mocking smirks mixed in. Whispers filled the air, accompanied by astonished expressions, as hushed conversations centered on him and his spectacular performance from that morning.
Tired of this predictable but nonetheless bothersome attention, Orion let out a small sigh of frustration. He glanced at Emma and Max, who seemed to share his discomfort with all the fuss.
"Let's go to the library. We'll be more at peace there," Emma suggested with a conspiratorial smile, clearly trying to offer him an escape.
Orion nodded silently, rising from the table. The three of them left the Great Hall and made their way to the library, hoping to find some tranquility away from the constant stares and whispers.
However, even in the library, the behavior of the other students didn't change. Their whispers and furtive glances towards Orion continued, and soon, the situation began to irritate Madam Pince, the strict overseer of the Hogwarts library.
Known for her obsession with silence and order in the library, Madam Pince frowned from behind her desk, her sharp eyes watching the students with growing displeasure. She tapped her finger nervously on the table as the whispers continued, and her patience quickly ran out.
After a few minutes, she stood up abruptly, her long black robes sweeping the floor behind her, and marched decisively toward the group of students responsible for the murmurs.
"That's enough!" she hissed in an icy voice. "If you're not here to read or work quietly, you can leave this library immediately."
Faced with this sudden display of authority, several students immediately stopped their whispering, but for Madam Pince, it was too late. With a theatrical gesture, she pointed to the exit and sharply ordered, "Out! All of you disturbing the peace of this library are banned for the rest of the day!"
Under her severe gaze, the embarrassed and disgruntled students reluctantly shuffled out, murmuring disapproving comments amongst themselves. Silence quickly returned, and Madam Pince, satisfied, returned to her desk, casting one last warning glance at the remaining students.
Orion, watching the scene unfold from his table, let out a small sigh. Despite Madam Pince's intervention, he knew the attention and whispers about him wouldn't disappear so easily. Annoyed, he glanced at Emma and Max, who had taken seats next to him, visibly uncomfortable with the whole situation.
After a few moments of reflection, he leaned towards them. "Listen," he murmured quietly, "this isn't going to stop anytime soon. You might want to leave me alone until things settle down."
Surprised, Max and Emma exchanged a glance before responding. Emma was the first to react, shaking her head with determination. "Leave you alone? No way."
Max nodded in agreement, his expression just as firm. "We're definitely not abandoning you," he said with a friendly smile. "You helped us when we were in trouble. We're not going to let you face all these jealous idiots on your own."
Orion looked at them for a moment, his mismatched eyes both surprised and grateful. He eventually nodded slightly. "Thank you," he murmured sincerely.
Max shrugged nonchalantly, but his smile betrayed a certain pride. "It's only natural. After all, that's what friends are for."
Orion, Emma, and Max arrived at the Potions class just in time for the start. The trio settled at the same desk, immediately attracting attention from their classmates. Discreet but persistent whispers filled the room, with some students openly staring at them. Even in the cold dungeons of Hogwarts, Orion's reputation seemed to follow him everywhere.
As they settled in, Professor Snape entered, his black robes billowing behind him like a shadow. He positioned himself in front of the class, his face as stern and unreadable as ever.
"Potion-making is a delicate, demanding discipline. It tolerates neither imprecision nor inattentiveness. A single mistake can turn a powerful elixir into a deadly poison."
The students remained silent, listening with fear and respect, but after a brief pause, Snape turned his attention toward the back of the room, where Orion was seated, deliberately ignoring the whispers that persisted around him.
After scanning the room with his dark, imposing gaze, Professor Snape stopped briefly on Orion, his expression unreadable. A heavy silence settled over the room.
"I deeply regret that you did not come to Slytherin, Mr. Maga," he began, his voice low but clear, each word carefully measured. "That is your true house. Know that, despite your unexpected sorting, every student in Slytherin still considers you one of their own."
He let his words hang for a moment, observing Orion's reactions, before continuing in a sharper tone. "However, it is clear that many do not appreciate being, let's say… rejected. Whether or not your reasons were valid."
A faint murmur rippled through the class, but Snape silenced it with a single look before continuing, his eyes fixed on Orion. "I have, of course, learned, like everyone else, what happened in Professor McGonagall's class. If your words weren't too distorted, you have claimed that you will frequently surprise others with your performances."
Snape advanced slowly, each step echoing in the tense silence of the room. He stopped in front of Orion's desk, hands clasped behind his back. "So, Mr. Maga," he resumed in a slow, measured voice, "It seems that there are already too many unpleasant surprises in my class, and I would rather avoid any more. So I will ask you now: where do your skills in my discipline stand? What is your level in Potions? Do you possess talents as… remarkable in this field?"
His tone was calm, but everyone could sense the underlying irony. Snape awaited Orion's response, curious to see if the young man would surprise him once again, or if he would meet his expectations.
To everyone's surprise, Orion calmly replied, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Professor, but Potions is a discipline in which I, unfortunately, do not excel. I have accumulated solid knowledge and am capable of brewing most potions I know, but that's where it ends."
A tense silence followed, and Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Orion's response. "Are you mocking me, Mr. Maga?" he asked sharply. "Your words are, to say the least, incoherent. Any other student would boast if they were capable of making a wide range of potions."
Unfazed, Orion replied bluntly: "I was trained by Lyra Selwyn. If she is considered the standard in the art of potion-making, then I can confidently say that I am mediocre. While I can follow instructions and brew potions competently, that puts me on the level of a kitchen assistant. I am not capable of innovation, adapting to available ingredients, or modifying a recipe to alter its effects."
Snape, listening carefully, furrowed his brow before letting out a chuckle, a hint of a sardonic smile appearing on his face. "Ah... Lyra Selwyn," he repeated, a glint in his eye. "I know her well. She is a Potions Master, one of the few who can measure up to me." He paused, then continued, clearly amused. "If your skills have been validated by Lyra, then I can assure you, you are far from mediocre. You can be considered a competent potioneer."
Snape chuckled again, repeating Orion's words almost mockingly: "I don't excel in this art... By Merlin, what nonsense. A boy who claims he lacks talent simply because he cannot match one of the greatest Potions Masters of this generation. I've truly heard it all."
He then turned his attention back to the class, leaving the other students perplexed and impressed, before continuing the lesson, clearly entertained by the unusual interaction.