Harry Potter was feeling distinctly lightheaded.

He stared at Orion Malfoy, his brain struggling to process the scene unfolding before him. This was not the sniveling, cowardly Malfoy behavior he knew Draco was quite expert at. This was a level of brazen, unapologetic audacity that bordered on insanity. It was, terrifyingly, more sheer, reckless bravery than he had witnessed from any Gryffindor he knew.

In fact, when Professor McGonagall had furiously interrogated Harry moments earlier regarding his suicidal attack on Snape, Harry had actually chosen not to divulge Malfoy’s involvement, despite his earlier threat to do so. A strange, twisted sense of honor, had kept his mouth shut.

Now, listening to Orion casually claim responsibility for assaulting the entire High Table, Harry felt the beginnings of a massive, stress-induced migraine throbbing behind his eyes.

The reactions in the room were a chaotic tapestry.

Professor Snape looked as though he were actively trying to set Orion on fire using only the power of his mind. Remus Lupin was rubbing a hand over his mouth, visibly suppressing a very unprofessional grin. Albus Dumbledore was smiling warmly, his eyes twinkling like mad.

And Nymphadora Tonks let out a sudden, loud, entirely undignified snort of laughter, immediately turning her head to stare intently at a bookshelf when Professor McGonagall leveled a lethal glare in her direction.

"And what," McGonagall asked, her voice dangerously quiet, the Scottish burr sharpening every syllable, "was the specific reason for orchestrating this chaotic spectacle, Mr. Malfoy? I assure you, if your reasoning is petty or malicious, I will personally see you serving detention scrubbing chamber pots for the entirety of the month of December."

Orion didn’t flinch. He offered a polite, utterly relaxed smile.

"To get a detention, Professor," Orion answered smoothly.

The silence returned, heavier and significantly more confused than before.

Harry blinked. Did he just say he wanted a detention?

"The atmosphere within the castle has been undeniably dull and oppressively tense recently," Orion elaborated, pacing a slow, small circle in the center of the room. "The Dementors going rogue, the subsequent Azkaban breakout... the student body required an outlet. I wanted to have some fun and elevate the mood."

He stopped, folding his hands behind his back.

"Furthermore, I also wanted to finally execute a prank on a grand, logistical scale, while simultaneously providing a practical demonstration to the student body regarding the fundamental difference between a ’prank’ and mere ’bullying’."

He gestured vaguely to the room at large.

"A prank," Orion defined clearly, "is an event in which ultimately, everyone participates and everyone has fun. A shared experience of absurdity. The Weasley twins and even the fabled Marauders, sometimes were ignorant of those lines. "

"I would wager," Dumbledore interjected mildly, his eyes flicking toward his Potions Master, "that Professor Snape did not have fun."

"If my intention was to bully Professor Snape," Orion countered, shaking his head slightly, "I could have easily orchestrated a scenario where all sixty buckets of water balloons materialized directly above his head and dropped simultaneously. That would have been targeted harassment."

He shrugged casually.

"A single, poorly aimed water balloon to initiate a castle-wide engagement hardly constitutes bullying, especially considering I myself was struck by multiple balloons during the ensuing melee. I did not exempt myself from the crossfire."

Orion turned back to McGonagall, his expression turning entirely earnest.

"And yes, continuing with my reasons... I have spent the entirety of the last two years being quite the model student. Exceptional grades, assisting faculty, rescuing peers. I felt it was high time I rounded out my academic experience. So, yes. I wanted to experience a detention. There you have it."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes, letting out a long, profound sigh that seemed to carry the weight of decades of teaching.

"Merlin preserve us," McGonagall muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What is wrong with children these days? Seeking out punishment for the sake of completeness."

"Very well," Dumbledore said, stepping in before McGonagall could assign Orion to manual labor until graduation. "Since you have so boldly accepted the blame for this fun... I mean to say, this egregious, rule-breaking prank..."

Dumbledore hastily corrected himself, coughing lightly into his fist as McGonagall glared at him.

"...I suppose we can skip the tedious interrogation phase entirely. We have a confession. We can state that, yes, appropriate punishments will be meted out to both you and Mr. Potter."

"Before that, however," Orion interrupted smoothly, his tone shifting from casual defiance to genuine, analytical curiosity. "I would like to know something, Headmaster."

He looked around the room, assessing the professors.

"Why did not a single member of the staff attempt to stop the prank once it escalated?" Orion asked. "Surely, any one of you possesses the capability to cast a substantial, physical barrier between the House tables, or issue a silencing charm to command order."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling at the question.

"Ah," Dumbledore chuckled softly, lacing his fingers together. "Well, you see, Orion... we knew a prank was going to happen tonight."

Orion frowned slightly, thrown off balance. "You knew?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. "We simply did not know the sheer, magnificent scale of the prank until the buckets materialized. As for casting spells to stop it..."

Dumbledore glanced at Lupin, who was smiling fondly, before looking back at Orion.

"...we collectively felt that casting physical barriers or stunning spells into a highly energetic, rapidly moving crowd of excited students would have been quite a bad idea. It could have caused panic, or unnecessary injury. It was safer, and admittedly far more entertaining, to simply let the storm blow itself out."

The air in the room grew suddenly, incredibly tense.

Professor Snape, who had been standing rigidly near the fireplace, slowly turned his head. His black eyes were wide, filled with a sudden, horrifying realization.

He looked at Dumbledore, his voice a low, dangerous hiss.

"Wait," Snape breathed, the betrayal stark in his tone. "We knew of the prank?"