The first chill of winter crept through the Great Hall, wrapping the place in an unusual hush.

Harry sat beside Hermione, still bickering about the Slytherins and their latest stunt—stealing the pudding. Ron had already surrendered to sleep, face buried in his arms, snoring softly.

Up at the staff table, the professors murmured over a stack of parchment, checking their lists.

Bang!

The massive doors of the Great Hall slammed open.

Footsteps echoed against the stone floor—measured, confident, almost insolent.

A boy none of them had ever seen before stood there. He looked about Harry's age, but there was something feral in his grin—like a fox about to snatch a chicken.

He stopped right in the center of the hall, head tilted slightly as hundreds of eyes fixed on him. His Hogwarts robe was worn but neatly pressed; only his hair defied order, tousled and falling into a pair of cool gray eyes.

He smiled—not kindly, but with the easy arrogance of someone who already knew he'd drive Hogwarts mad before the week was over.

Professor McGonagall froze mid-scribble, quill hovering above her register.

"Quiet, everyone. It seems we forgot to make an announcement. Hogwarts will be welcoming a new transfer student—from Beauxbatons."

The boy strode toward the Sorting Table, each step unhurried yet deliberate. He cleared his throat, fingers drumming lightly against the edge of the table as he surveyed the hall.

Then his lips curved again, and in a voice that wasn't loud but somehow filled every corner of the Great Hall, he said—

"My name is Orion Charlus Potter."

...

A blade seemed to slice through the air. Then the Great Hall exploded in noise.

At the Gryffindor table, someone whispered:

"Potter? Another Potter? I thought there was only one!"

Across the room, a Hufflepuff muttered:

"He's got relatives?" and shot Harry a look.

The Slytherins, of course, were smirking.

"That one's got attitude," drawled a boy in green. "He'd fit right in with us."

Harry Potter sat frozen.
Ron choked on a piece of toast until Harry wordlessly shoved a glass of water his way. Hermione craned her neck, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Charlus Potter... Harry, is he related to you?"

When the Sorting Hat finally descended onto the newcomer's head, its patched brim twitched. The voice that came out was slow, suspicious:

"Oh... Potter, is it? But there's something odd here. Confidence... audacity... pride. You could be..."

Orion tilted his head up, gray eyes locking straight onto Harry and his friends.

Then he smiled, a lazy, reckless smile that somehow made even the ceiling seem to lean closer.

"I don't care which House you pick," he said clearly, voice carrying across the Hall. "All I need is a place where I can cause enough trouble that Hogwarts never forgets my name."

The Hat went silent for three whole seconds. Then it bellowed—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted. Fred and George whooped in unison.

"Aha! Welcome to the chaos, mate!"

"Finally, a new recruit for our little empire!"

Harry sighed into his plate of potatoes.

Orion jumped down from the stool, crossed the hall, and plopped himself right beside him. He grinned, eyes gleaming with that dangerous, mischievous light that promised nothing but trouble.

Leaning close, he spoke in a tone half-playful, half-dead serious.

"Nice to finally meet you... Harry."

"It's our first time face to face," he added, voice low enough that only Harry heard.

Then, with a knowing glint, he murmured—

"Harry Potter... you don't know what we are yet, do you?"

"Don't worry," he said softly, that fox-like smile spreading again. "I'll enlighten you soon enough. Just... don't stop moving forward."

---

That night, Harry couldn't sleep.
Orion Potter's voice kept echoing in his head like a spell that wouldn't stop ringing.

"Nice to meet you..."

"You don't know what we are yet, do you?"

The way he'd said "you", the way he'd dropped himself into Gryffindor as if he'd owned the place, and those eyes—eyes that looked frighteningly like James Potter's. Only... cheekier.

Harry kicked off his blanket and jabbed Ron in the ribs.

"Wake up."

"Huh? What's—"

"Not you. Go back to sleep."

"???" Ron blinked, bewildered, wondering what kind of person woke someone up just to say that.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry found himself in the library with Hermione—because of course she was still awake, clutching a stack of books heavy enough to floor a troll.

"Charlus Potter," she whispered urgently. "I've seen that name before—in The Potter Family Chronicles!"

"There's a book about that? So who is he?"

"Quiet! Let me find it..."

They huddled in the darkest corner of the library. Harry's face was tight with tension while Hermione flipped through yellowed pages, fingers tapping impatiently.

Then she stopped. "Here! Look!" she said, pointing to a faded line of ink.

"Charlus Potter – brother of Fleamont Potter. Married Dorea Black. Had one eldest son, one daughter, and a pair of twins as the youngest. And here—wait—his youngest son's name..."

Hermione swallowed hard.

Harry froze.

"Orion Charlus Potter. Born and raised in St. Kilda. Attended Beauxbatons. (Noted for frequent disciplinary issues.)"

Hermione squinted at the parentheses.

"If they had to add that part, he must've been a real piece of work."

Then she looked up, eyes glowing like she'd just uncovered a Ministry-level secret.

"Harry... you know who Fleamont is, right?"

"My grandfather."

"So Charlus is..."

"My grandfather's brother."

"Which means..."

Harry's voice cracked.

"THAT ORION BLOKE IS MY UNCLE?!"

The silence that followed could've been bottled and labeled 'Pure Shock, 100% Concentrated'.

Harry dropped his head onto the table with a groan worthy of a dying mandrake.

"I have an uncle who's my age. Who's sleeping in the same dorm. And he called me nephew before I even knew who he was."

Hermione beamed like this was the best plot twist she'd ever read.

"Harry, you're officially the most fascinating case in Hogwarts history!"

Harry's reply was muffled by his sleeve.

"I'm the most cursed case in Hogwarts history."

He sighed, defeated.

"Just thinking about calling that guy 'uncle' makes me want to drop out. Sweet Merlin, what did I ever do to deserve this..."