Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

Dinner at Malfoy Manor was an affair of silver, crystal, and silence, usually broken only by the clinking of cutlery or Lucius’s monologues. Tonight, however, the silence had been commandeered by Draco.

”And then,” Draco said, his eyes shining as he gestured with a forkful of roast duck, ”Snape took another five points from Weasley for dropping his quill! Can you believe it? The Gryffindors are in the negative for the week. Negative! They are practically digging a hole in the floor of the hourglass.”

Lucius, seated at the head of the table, sipped his wine with an air of satisfied indulgence. ”Excellent. It seems Severus is maintaining standards. Discipline is the backbone of any institution.”

”It’s not just Snape, Father,” Draco continued, beaming. ”It’s us. We’re dominating. Orion made Crabbe and Goyle memorize the Charms textbook. I don’t think they understand it, but they can recite it! We’re top of the leaderboard in every subject. The gap between Slytherin and Ravenclaw is already seventy points. Gryffindor is trailing by nearly two hundred.”

Draco puffed out his chest. ”We are going to win the House Cup. Again. And this time, we’re going to humiliate Potter while doing it. He just sits there looking tragic while his house loses points left and right.”

Lucius set his goblet down, a cruel smile playing on his lips. ”Good. Let the boy see that fame does not equate to competence. It warms my heart to hear that the Weasleys are struggling. That family is a blight on our world. Breeding like gnomes, lacking any sense of decorum or magical prowess...”

He took a breath, his eyes narrowing in that familiar way that signaled a twenty-minute diatribe on blood purity was incoming. ”Why, just the other day at the Ministry, Arthur Weasley dared to suggest—”

”Lucius,” Narcissa’s voice cut through the air, soft as silk but sharp as glass. ”The duck is getting cold.”

Lucius paused, his mouth slightly open. He blinked, then cleared his throat. ”Ah. Yes. Quite.”

Narcissa turned her blue eyes toward Orion. She had been eating quietly, observing the dynamic between her husband and her sons.

”Draco speaks highly of your efforts, Orion,” Narcissa said gently. ”He says you are tutoring the First Years. Ensuring the house average remains high.”

”Just maintaining the baseline, Mother,” Orion replied, slicing his potatoes with geometric precision. ”A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. I prefer my chain to be unbreakable.”

”It is commendable,” Narcissa nodded. ”However... I know you, my little star. You are pragmatic. You do not chase glory for the sake of a trophy.”

She tilted her head, her gaze piercing through his casual façade.

”The House Cup is a hollow victory. You know this. It is a tin cup that gets returned at the end of the year. It grants no power, no gold, no lasting influence. So I must ask... are you really that interested in winning a school competition? It seems... beneath your usual ambitions.”

The table went quiet. Draco looked confused; to him, the Cup was everything. Lucius looked curious.

Orion stopped cutting. He looked up at his mother. She was the only one who truly saw the gears turning behind his eyes. Lucius saw a prodigy; Draco saw a leader; Narcissa saw a puzzle.

A slow, secretive smirk curled the corner of Orion’s mouth.

”You know me too well, Mother,” Orion admitted smoothly. ”Let’s just say... I enjoy seeing systems work efficiently. And I enjoy seeing certain people... frustrated by that efficiency.”

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t mention Dumbledore. He simply took a bite of potato.

Narcissa held his gaze for a moment longer, then smiled, accepting the non-answer. ”As long as you are enjoying yourself.”

Later that night, the heavy silence of the manor settled over the estate. Orion lay in his bed, the moonlight filtering through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the cherubs on the ceiling.

”You dodged that question like a pro,” Sparkle’s interface chimed, hovering above his chest. ”But she has a point. Why do you care? You’ve got the Vanishing Cabinet. You’ve got the All-Speak. You’ve got the Map. Why are you wasting time teaching Goyle how to read just to win a point contest?”

Orion laced his fingers behind his head. ”I never explained it to you, did I?”

”You said ’Three Hundred Points’ was the goal. But you never said why.”

”It’s a stress test, Sparkle,” Orion whispered. ”An engineering stress test.”

”For the students?”

”For the Headmaster.”

Orion sat up, leaning back against the headboard.

”Think about the original timeline. At the end of the year, Slytherin has won. The banners are green and silver. Then, Dumbledore stands up. He awards arbitrary points—fifty to Ron for chess, fifty to Hermione for logic, sixty to Harry for ’pure nerve’ and 10 to Longbottom for existing. Just enough to snatch the victory away. It ends up being a difference of ten points or so.”

”Right. The ’Dumbledore ex Machina’ moment,” Sparkle noted.

”Exactly. In that scenario, the bias is there, but it’s... palatable. It’s framed as rewarding hidden heroism. It’s close enough that people can argue it was justified. A 170-point swing is massive, but in a school year? It’s not impossible.”

Orion’s eyes narrowed in the dark.

”But what happens if the gap isn’t ten points? What happens if the gap is three hundred? Or four hundred?”

He gestured to the empty air.

”Right now, Slytherin is dominating. By the end of the year, if my calculations hold, we will be miles ahead. We aren’t just winning; we are lapping them.”

”Now,” Orion continued, his voice low and intense. ”Imagine the End of Term Feast. The Great Hall is decked in green. We are ahead by 350 points. Harry Potter hasn’t saved the Stone (because I neutralized the threat). He hasn’t played Quidditch (because I stole his moment). He has done nothing notable except exist.”

”Okay...”

”If Dumbledore wants Gryffindor to win in that scenario,” Orion smirked, ”he can’t just give ’last minute points’. He has to break the system. He has to award three hundred and sixty points for... what? For ’Good Moral Character’? For ’Existing while being a Gryffindor’?”

”That would be blatant,” Sparkle realized.

”It would be scandalous,” Orion corrected. ”If he awards that many points to bridge a gap that wide, especially when Potter has no heroic deeds to back it up, it stops being a ’reward’ and becomes undeniable, public corruption. It strips away the veneer of the benevolent grandfather.”

Orion lay back down.

”I want to see if he’ll do it. I want to see if his bias outweighs his logic. If he hands them the Cup despite a 400-point deficit... he loses the respect of every other House. Ravenclaw will see the math doesn’t add up. Hufflepuff will see it’s unfair. And Slytherin? We will be vindicated in our belief that the system is rigged.”

”So you’re forcing him into a corner,” Sparkle said, sounding impressed. ”Either he lets Slytherin win, or he destroys his own reputation to prop up Gryffindor.”

”Precisely,” Orion closed his eyes. ”It’s a win-win for me. Either we get the Cup, or Dumbledore exposes himself as a fraud to the entire student body. I call that... a successful experiment.”

”You really are a villain,” Sparkle giggled.

”I’m an auditor,” Orion corrected sleepily. ”I’m just checking the books.”

He drifted off to sleep, dreaming of hourglasses filled with emeralds and a Headmaster sweating under the weight of simple arithmetic.