Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The corridor outside the Third Floor was a tableau of chaos frozen in time. The air was thick with tension, smelling faintly of stone dust, lingering troll stench, and the sharp ozone of spent magic.

Albus Dumbledore stood at the center of the gathering, his blue robes unruffled but his expression grave. Professor McGonagall was beside him, looking pale and tight-lipped. Professor Sprout was wringing her hands, dirt from the greenhouses still under her fingernails.

And huddled near the wall, looking like three guilty puppies caught chewing a slipper, were Harry, Ron, and a tear-streaked Hermione.

When Snape and Flitwick arrived, dragging Orion along like a prize catch, the tableau broke.

”Filius!” McGonagall gasped, rushing forward when she saw the Charms Master disheveled. ”You’re hurt!”

”Just a bruise, Minerva,” Flitwick waved her off, wincing as he straightened himself. ”I’ve had worse from a unruly teapot. But we have a situation.”

”Situation?” Dumbledore’s gaze swept over the group, landing on Orion. ”I assume it’s about the troll Quirrel told us was supposed to be in the dungeons?”

”Headmaster,” Flitwick squeaked, drawing himself up to his full height (which wasn’t much). ”I must take responsibility. Mr. Malfoy and I were late to the feast—my fault entirely, we were discussing elemental charm theory—and I suggested we take the tapestry route to the first floor to check on Miss Granger, as Mr. Malfoy had heard rumors she was distressed.”

He gestured to Hermione, who sniffled loudly.

”We encountered the Troll entering the girls’ bathroom,” Flitwick continued. ”I engaged it. I had it contained. But then...”

He glanced at Harry and Ron. The two boys shrank back.

”Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley arrived,” Flitwick said diplomatically. ”Their shouting... distracted me. The Troll swung. I shielded, but I was pinned. If not for Mr. Malfoy...”

”I’m sorry, Professor!” Harry blurted out, stepping forward. ”We didn’t know! We just wanted to help Hermione!”

”Intentions do not mitigate consequences, Potter,” Snape sneered, stepping out of the shadows. ”Your foolish heroics nearly got a teacher killed.”

”Orion saved us,” Hermione whispered, wiping her eyes. ”He distracted it. He ran.”

All eyes turned to Orion. He stood calmly, his hands clasped behind his back, looking the picture of aristocratic composure despite the dust on his robes.

”Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said gently. ”Would you care to explain how you managed to lead a Mountain Troll—a creature known for its single-minded aggression—away from a meal and up two flights of stairs?”

”Fireworks, Headmaster,” Orion said smoothly. ”I’ve been practicing the Verdimillious charm variants for Halloween. I used them to blind it. Then I ran.”

”And led it here?” McGonagall pressed, gesturing to the sealed door behind them. ”To the Third Floor? Why here?”

”I had already met the Headmaster here,” Orion said, nodding to Dumbledore. ”I knew the door was reinforced with spells. And I knew about the... occupant. I figured if I could get the Troll inside, the... dog... would handle the rest.”

”Fluffy!” Hagrid yelped from the back of the group, his face turning white. ”You put a Troll in with Fluffy?”

”He seemed hungry earlier,” Orion shrugged. ”I thought he might like a snack that fights back.”

”Snack!” Hagrid looked ready to faint. He pushed past Snape and wrenched the door open. ”Fluffy!”

Snape, his face darkening with realization, followed him. ”Quirrell! I noticed him leaving after the students were told to return to the dorms.”

They disappeared into the room.

”Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said, her voice trembling with suppressed fury. ”This is a forbidden corridor. You should not have known about the dog. And you certainly should not have used it as a weapon! Why did the Headmaster allow you here?”

She turned a glare on Dumbledore that could have curdled milk.

”And how,” she demanded of Orion, ”do you justify being here in the first place?”

Orion tilted his head, adopting a look of pure, innocent confusion.

”Forbidden, Professor?” Orion asked. ”The Headmaster never called it forbidden. At the feast, he simply said that ’anyone who wishes to die a most painful death’ should avoid it.”

He paused, letting a small, dark smile touch his lips.

”He didn’t say it was against the rules. He just said it was dangerous. And frankly, Professor, I don’t mind a most painful death. So technically... I am allowed here.”

Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.

Hermione looked at him like he was insane. Harry looked at him like he was a god with devil’s horns. McGonagall looked like she was about to have a stroke.

Then, Dumbledore chuckled.

It started as a rumble in his chest and broke into a soft laugh. ”A semantic argument. I should have expected nothing less from a Slytherin.”

”Albus!” McGonagall snapped. ”This is not funny!”

”It is a little funny, Minerva,” Dumbledore admitted, eyes twinkling. ”Though recklessness is rarely a virtue.”

”And the smell?” Snape’s voice echoed from the doorway as he re-emerged. He looked paler than usual, and there was a smear of something green on his boot. ”The room reeks of... decay. A stink pellet, you said?”

”I carry stupid things all the time, Professor,” Orion shrugged. ”For emergencies. Just like this.”

He focused his mind. Inventory.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate cupcake with rainbow sprinkles—the reward from one of his first achievement.

”See?” Orion held up the cupcake. ”I keep snacks in my pocket too. Never know when you’ll get hungry.”

He peeled the wrapper and took a bite, chewing calmly while the most powerful wizards in Britain stared at him.

”Delicious,” Orion mumbled.

Snape stared at the cupcake. He stared at Orion. He looked like he wanted to dissect the boy’s brain to see what was wrong with it.

”The Troll is dead,” Snape announced flatly. ”Mauled. Messily.”

”And... Professor Quirrell?” Dumbledore asked, his voice losing its humor.

Snape hesitated. ”Professor Quirrell appears to be... indisposed. He seems to have been caught in the... crossfire. He is currently... paste.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment. ”I see. Unfortunate.”

”Unfortunate?” McGonagall whispered. ”A teacher is dead!”

”And four students are alive,” Sprout interjected firmly, stepping forward and putting a hand on Orion’s shoulder. ”That is what matters. Mr. Malfoy kept himself safe and saved the other three as well. Whatever his methods.”

She looked down at Orion kindly. ”Come, Orion. The feast is disrupted, but the House-Elves have sent food to the common rooms. I shall escort you back to the dungeons.”

”Thank you, Professor,” Orion said politely, swallowing his cupcake.

”And you three,” McGonagall sighed, turning to the Gryffindors. ”Come with me. We have much to discuss regarding bravery and stupidity.”

Orion turned to follow Sprout. He didn’t look back at Harry, Ron, or Hermione. He didn’t need their gratitude. He had won the encounter.

As they walked away, the blue screen flickered into life, hovering over Professor Sprout’s hat.

[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]

Tier: 3 (Ultimate)

Name: Fluffy: King of the Monsters

Description: You didn’t just kill the Troll. You orchestrated a heavyweight bout between a Mountain Troll and a Cerberus. You turned a rescue mission into a spectator sport. And in the process, you inadvertently (or intentionally?) turned the vessel of the Dark Lord into pedigree chum. Quirrell couldn’t run fast enough. Voldemort is currently a wraith floating around confusedly wondering why his host was eaten by a dog. You have derailed the canon so hard the tracks are bent.

Reward: All-Speak (Passive Ability).

Orion almost tripped.

”All-Speak?” he queried mentally.

”The gift of tongues,” Sparkle explained, her voice vibrating with awe. ”You can understand any language. Spoken, written, or screeched. Human, Goblin, Mermish, Centaur... and yes, Parseltongue. But better. You don’t have to hiss. You speak English, and the snake hears Snake. You speak English, and the Goblin hears Gobbledegook. It’s universal translation with charisma integration.”

Orion’s eyes widened. ”No hissing?”

”No hissing. No looking like a possessed weirdo. Just pure communication.”

Orion smiled as he descended into the dungeons. He could talk to snakes. He could talk to the Goblins at Gringotts in their own tongue. He could negotiate with the Merpeople.

”Knowledge is power,” Orion whispered. ”And communication is the key to the kingdom.”

”You just became the ultimate diplomat,” Sparkle agreed. ”Or the ultimate deceiver. Your choice.”

”Why not both?”