Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The summons came shortly after dessert had vanished from the golden plates in the Great Hall. Professor Snape appeared at the Slytherin table, his black cloak casting a long shadow over the twins.

”Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy,” Snape intoned, nodding to each. ”Come with me. Your parents have arrived.”

Draco immediately sat up straighter, looking vindicated. ”I knew it! Father came!”

Orion wiped his mouth with a napkin, hiding a sigh. ”Showtime.”

They followed Snape out of the hall and down into the dungeons, but not to the common room. Instead, they stopped at the heavy oak door of Snape’s office. Snape tapped it with his wand, and it swung open.

The office was dimly lit by jars of floating organs and a low fire. Standing by the hearth were two figures who looked entirely out of place amidst the pickled toads.

Narcissa Malfoy turned the moment the door opened. Her usual icy composure was fractured.

”Orion! Draco!”

She moved with a speed that defied her heavy robes, rushing forward. Before Orion could even offer a polite nod, he was enveloped in a crushing hug that smelled of expensive perfume and maternal panic.

”My boys,” Narcissa whispered into Orion’s hair, squeezing him tight before pulling Draco into the embrace as well. ”Are you hurt? Truly? The message was so... vague.”

”We are fine, Mother,” Orion said, patting her back awkwardly. ”Intact. Unscathed. And quite full from dinner.”

Lucius Malfoy stood by the fireplace, gripping his cane so hard his knuckles were white. He was muttering under his breath, words like ”incompetent,” ”senile,” and ”old fool” drifting through the air.

He turned, his grey eyes sweeping over his sons, checking for damage. Finding none, his expression hardened into cold fury.

”That stuttering imbecile,” Lucius hissed, clearly referring to the late (and currently falsely announced missing) Professor Quirrell. ”To bring a troll into a school... to endanger the heirs of the Sacred Twenty-Eight... it is beyond negligence. It is criminal.”

Orion looked at Lucius. This is the same person who will unleash a Basilisk in a school next year. Granted, under the misconception that the Basilisk will only target those not of Pureblood status. Hypocrite.

”Father!” Draco stepped out of Narcissa’s hold, looking up at Lucius. ”Did you get my letter? I told you everything! How the Headmaster sent us to the dungeons!”

Lucius frowned, looking down at Draco. ”Letter? No, Draco. I received no letter.”

Draco blinked, deflated. ”But... I sent Titan this morning.”

”The owl likely crossed paths with us, or is still fighting a headwind,” Lucius dismissed, waving a hand. ”Severus contacted me directly via the Floo Network. He informed us of the... breach. And the subsequent disappearance of the Defense Professor.”

”Disappearance,” Orion mentally corrected. ”More like liquefaction.”

”I shall be speaking with Cornelius in the morning,” Lucius announced, pacing the small room. ”I will have the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement hunting that man down. He thinks he can flee? He thinks he can attack the prestige of the Malfoy name and vanish?”

Lucius struck a glass jar with his cane, making a floating brain wobble.

”I don’t care about Dumbledore’s senile management,” Lucius spat. ”But an attack on my sons is a declaration of war. Quirrell will regret the day he stepped foot in this castle.”

Snape, standing in the shadows, nodded slowly. ”Perhaps, Lucius. Though if the man has fled the country... he may be difficult to locate.”

”We have resources, Severus,” Lucius sneered. ”Gold opens many doors.”

Narcissa smoothed Draco’s hair, her hands trembling slightly. She turned to her husband.

”Lucius,” she said firmly. ”We are taking them home.”

Orion’s head snapped up. ”What?”

”Pack your things,” Narcissa instructed, her voice brokering no argument. ”It is not safe here. Trolls? Dark wizards masquerading as teachers? We are leaving. You can be tutored at home until the Board of Governors ensures the school is secure.”

Draco looked torn. On one hand, home meant safety and flying his new broom. On the other hand, leaving meant missing everything.

”But Mother...” Draco started.

”No,” Orion stepped forward, his voice calm and reasonable.

”Orion,” Narcissa warned. ”Do not argue.”

”I am not arguing, Mother, I am analyzing,” Orion said gently. ”Think about it. The threat is gone. Quirrell has fled. He is not lurking in the corridors; he is running for his life because he knows Father is coming for him. The castle is secure.”

He gestured to Snape.

”We have Professor Snape here. Our Godfather. He is the most capable wizard in the castle. Do you not trust him to protect us?”

Snape inclined his head slightly at the compliment.

”Besides,” Orion continued, looking at Lucius. ”If we leave now... what message does that send?”

Lucius paused in his pacing. ”Message?”

”That the Malfoys ran,” Orion said. ”That a single incompetent teacher scared us away. It looks... weak. Cowardly. We are Slytherins, Father. We hold our ground.”

He saw the flicker of pride in Lucius’s eyes. The appeal to vanity always worked.

”And practically speaking,” Orion added, ”the Yule holidays are only a month away. We will be home soon enough. And Draco...” Orion looked at his twin. ”Draco has been talking about the first Quidditch match for weeks. Slytherin versus Gryffindor. He would be devastated to miss it.”

Draco’s eyes lit up. ”The match! Father, we’re going to crush them! I want to watch!”

Lucius looked between his sons. He saw the logic. He saw the pride. And he saw that taking them out now might indeed look like a retreat.

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

”Very well,” Lucius conceded. ”If Severus can guarantee your safety...”

”I shall watch them closely,” Snape promised.

”Then you may stay,” Lucius decided. ”But I will be filing a formal complaint with the Board. Dumbledore will answer for this.”

Narcissa didn’t look happy, but she relented. She hugged them both again, fiercely. ”Be careful. Please.”

”We will, Mother,” Orion promised.

An hour later, Orion and Draco were back in their dormitory. The lights were out, and the only sound was the rhythmic snoring of Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster of the day.

Orion lay awake, his hands behind his head, staring at the canopy.

”Sparkle,” he whispered.

”Yo,” the interface shimmered into existence.

”We have a problem,” Orion murmured.

”A problem?” Sparkle asked. ”You just manipulated your parents into letting you stay, you killed a troll, and you have ’All-Speak’. You’re winning, kid.”

”That’s the problem,” Orion sighed. ”I’m winning too much.”

He sat up, leaning against the headboard.

”I used the Troll to kill Quirrell, completely accidental, not intentional at all. I derailed the canon completely. There is no climatic end-of-year mystery anymore. The Philosopher’s Stone is safe behind Fluffy, and no one is trying to steal it. Quirrell is dead—or ’fled’, as far as the world knows. Voldemort is a wraith floating around a forest somewhere, probably very confused and angry.”

”And?”

”And... what do I do now?” Orion threw his hands up in the dark. ”I have no benchmark. The Tier 3 Achievement for this year was likely ’Defeat Quirrell’ or ’Protect the Stone’. I deleted the boss fight before the level even started.”

”Suffering from success, huh?” Sparkle snickered. ”You speed-ran the plot and now you’re stuck in the lobby.”

”Stupid Quirrell,” Orion grumbled, flopping back onto his pillow. ”Why did he have to be so fragile? Why did he have to die right there? And stupid Voldemort. Useless Dark Lord. Can’t even protect his host from a dog. Pathetic.”

”To be fair,” Sparkle noted, ”it was a very big dog. And a very angry troll.”

”It leaves a vacuum,” Orion stared at the ceiling. ”Without a central conflict, the rest of the year is just... school. Homework. Exams. Teenage drama. I didn’t reincarnate to do homework, Sparkle. I need a challenge. I need a target.”

”Well, you have the Vanishing Cabinet,” Sparkle reminded him. ”And you have the Room of Requirement to map.”

”Side quests,” Orion dismissed. ”I need a Main Quest. Something worthy of a Tier 3.”

He closed his eyes, his mind racing through the possibilities. The Chamber of Secrets? Too early; he needed the Diary, which was with Lucius. Sirius Black? Stuck in Azkaban.

”I broke the narrative,” Orion whispered. ”Now I have to write a new one.”

”Better start brainstorming,” Sparkle suggested, fading out. ”Tomorrow is a new day. Maybe you can accidentally summon a demon or something. Keep it spicy.”

”Tomorrow,” Orion agreed, drifting off to sleep. ”We brainstorm. There has to be something in this castle worth breaking.”