Chapter 280: The Definition of a Creature and The First Command

Bellatrix leaned back a bit, her heavy, dark eyes locking onto Orion’s. A predatory, amused smirk touched her lips.

"Well," Bellatrix purred, tilting her head. "I must admit, I was half expecting Lucius to hide the fact that I was your godmother from you. He is a coward when it comes to the truth."

"You know your brother-in-law well," Orion replied smoothly, offering a polite nod. "Though Mother was the one to break the news. You seem to be in excellent spirits, Aunt Bella. Enjoying the accommodations of the Manor?"

"Oh, I am," Bellatrix laughed, a harsh, musical sound. "The house-elves are so wonderfully terrified. And you... you seem to be quite relaxed in my presence. Here I was expecting you to turn tail and run back to Cissy, begging for protection. Yet, you seem to actually like being near me."

She began to circle him, moving with a silent, gliding grace, assessing him from every angle.

Orion remained perfectly still, his posture relaxed, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

"Running away would make me a very poor godson," Orion reasoned calmly, meeting her gaze as she circled back to the front. "Besides, who does not want an incredibly strong, devastatingly powerful godmother on their side? It is a tactical advantage."

He allowed his smirk to widen slightly, infusing his tone with aristocratic charm.

"The fact that you are dangerously beautiful as well is just a rather pleasant cherry on top."

Bellatrix let out a sudden, delighted cackle. She stepped close, tapping him lightly on the chest with a long, manicured fingernail.

"Flattery, huh?" Bellatrix mocked, her eyes flashing. "It seems you do possess the Malfoy traits after all, specifically their slippery, silver tongue. We shall see if it is just words."

She stepped back, her expression shifting into a mask of pure, fanatic ambition.

"Well, I have incredibly high hopes for you, my little godson," Bellatrix declared, her voice ringing with dark promise. "And we will soon see if your magic is truly as potent as the Ministry stories say, or if it is just fancy, bought words on paper."

She spun on her heel, her black robes swirling around her, and turned to walk back up the gravel path toward the Manor.

Mistake, Orion thought, his eyes narrowing instantly. You never turn your back on a predator.

Orion’s left hand, hidden behind his back, moved in a sharp, decisive arc.

He snapped his fingers.

The sound was deadened instantly as the world froze.

The howling winter wind halted. The falling snow hung suspended in mid-air, a thousand frozen white crystals painting the garden. Bellatrix Lestrange was frozen mid-stride, her foot inches from the gravel, her black robes flaring dramatically in the static breeze.

Orion didn’t waste a microsecond. The clock was ticking.

"Inventory," he commanded silently.

The small, iridescent Familiar’s Orb materialized in his hand. It pulsed with a soft, hypnotic light, seemingly unaffected by the temporal stasis.

Orion looked at the orb, his mind rapidly retrieving the specific, seemingly disconnected conversations that had formulated this desperate, utterly insane gamble.

"This item will basically allow you to make any magical creature your familiar," Sparkle had said, confirming the lack of restrictions. "If the creature possesses a magical core, it works."

And then, his conversation with Luna by the Black Lake.

"After all, humans are also animals, right? I read a Muggle book once that said there was a time, long ago, when humans were actually monkeys."

Orion’s analytical mind processed the logic with brutal efficiency.

A wizard or a witch possesses a magical core, Orion concluded. And biologically speaking, under both Muggle evolutionary theory and pure, technical definition... a human is an animal. Therefore, a witch should absolutely categorize as a ’magical creature’ within the unwritten parameters of the System’s reward structure.

It was the ultimate, reality-breaking loophole.

He didn’t hesitate. He took aim at the frozen back of Bellatrix Lestrange. He pulled his arm back and threw the glowing orb with precise, calculated force.

The orb sailed through the frozen air.

As expected, it hit the absolute wall of inertia surrounding Bellatrix. The orb stopped dead, hovering in mid-air, mere millimeters from the black fabric of her robes, trapped by the temporal freeze.

Orion let out a tight breath, his heart hammering. He lowered his hand.

He released Time.

The wind roared back to life. The snow resumed falling.

And the iridescent orb instantly closed the final millimeter.

It didn’t bounce off. It didn’t shatter. The moment it made contact with Bellatrix’s back, the orb dissolved into a flash of soft, silver light that sank seamlessly into her body, vanishing completely without her even breaking stride.

Orion stood perfectly still, his hands clasped behind his back once more. He waited, his Universal Sense humming, ready to dodge a Killing Curse if the magic failed and she felt the intrusion.

Bellatrix continued walking for two steps.

"Aunt Bella," Orion called out softly.

She paused. She turned slowly back around.

Orion watched her eyes closely. The manic, unpredictable fire was still there. The hollow, haunted look of Azkaban was still present. There was no visible, physical change in her demeanor. She didn’t suddenly look dazed or mind-controlled.

Guess a test is to be taken, Orion thought, his pulse steadying. Let’s see how fast the catalyst works.

"Yes, my sweet little godson?" Bellatrix inquired, tilting her head.

"Say, Aunt Bella," Orion asked, his voice dropping into a casual, conversational tone, as if asking for a recipe. "Can you tell me who were the specific people involved behind the attack on Hogsmeade yesterday afternoon?"