Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

Orion spent the entirety of Friday engaged in a silent, high-level strategic review.

In the original timeline, Draco had only discovered Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback after it had hatched, peering through a gap in the curtains just in time to see the beast sneeze sparks. This time, the timeline had shifted. The egg had arrived earlier, and Draco had deduced its existence while it was still incubating in the coals.

And his plan wasn’t half bad, Orion mused, sitting in the back of the library with a blank piece of parchment. Wait for the hatch, gather witnesses, secure the expulsion. It’s a solid, Slytherin tactic.

Orion wondered, with a flicker of pride, if his own constant lectures on strategy and efficiency had rubbed off on his twin. Draco was actually thinking two steps ahead instead of just acting on impulse.

However, the plan still had a fatal flaw: Draco lacked meta-knowledge.

Draco didn’t know that Albus Dumbledore would sooner burn the castle down than expel Harry Potter. He didn’t know that getting caught out of bed to snitch on them would result in Draco serving detention in the Forbidden Forest with the very people he was trying to ruin.

”I can’t let him do it,” Orion whispered, tapping his quill against his chin. ”He’ll march right into a fifty-point deduction and a midnight stroll with centaurs and acromantulas.”

Sorry, Draco, Orion mentally apologized. I am saving you from falling face-first into dragon dung. You’ll thank me when you’re older. Or you’ll hate me. Either way, you won’t be in detention.

But how to utilize the egg? Stealing it was out of the question; Hagrid practically slept on top of it, and adding a Class XXXXX magical beast to his Inventory was a recipe for disaster. Besides, the dragon was central to the Golden Trio’s development.

Orion’s eyes narrowed as an alternative presented itself. He didn’t need the dragon. He needed the leverage.

And there was one person in the castle who was currently desperate for a win, highly protective of Hagrid, and growing increasingly exasperated with her own House.

Professor Minerva McGonagall was massaging her temples when Orion knocked on her office door late Saturday afternoon. The Gryffindor hourglass was currently a depressing sight, and the strain of managing the Weasley twins’ ongoing, paranoid prank war was taking its toll.

”Enter,” she called out, her voice crisp but weary.

Orion stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. He carried no books, no bags. His posture was perfectly straight, his expression serious.

”Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said, lowering her hands. ”To what do I owe the pleasure? I trust there are no more feline rumors circulating?”

”No, Professor,” Orion offered a polite, brief smile before his face grew solemn again. ”I am here on a matter of school security. And, quite frankly, the safety of a staff member.”

McGonagall’s demeanor shifted instantly. The fatigue vanished, replaced by the sharp, focused attention of the Deputy Headmistress. ”Explain.”

”I recently came into possession of some... highly sensitive intelligence,” Orion began carefully, pacing his words. ”A certain student—someone a bit naive, prone to grand gestures and petty rivalries—was bragging in the dungeons. He claims to have seen something illicit in Mr. Hagrid’s hut.”

McGonagall frowned. ”Hagrid? What sort of illicit item?”

”An egg, Professor,” Orion said quietly. ”A large, black egg. Sitting in the middle of a roaring fire. Based on the description, and the fact that the student recognized a library book on dragon breeding on the table... it is undoubtedly, a dragon egg.”

McGonagall went perfectly still. The color drained from her face.

”A dragon,” she whispered, horror dawning in her eyes. ”Rubeus is incubating a dragon in a wooden cabin?”

”So it seems,” Orion nodded. ”The student who discovered this intends to wait until the creature hatches, and then alert the staff in order to catch certain Gryffindor first-years—who are apparently assisting Mr. Hagrid—red-handed. His goal is their expulsion.”

McGonagall stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. ”Foolishness. Utter foolishness from all involved. I must go to Albus immediately. We have to confiscate the egg before it hatches and someone is killed.”

”Professor, if I may,” Orion said, holding up a hand to stop her.

She paused, looking at him impatiently. ”Mr. Malfoy, time is of the essence.”

”I agree,” Orion said smoothly. ”But simply swooping in and taking the egg solves the immediate danger, yet fails to address the underlying behavioral issue.”

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. ”What do you mean?”

”The student who told me this is foolish for treating a lethal beast as a prop for a schoolyard rivalry,” Orion stated. McGonagall’s eyes flicked to him, clearly putting two and two together regarding the ’naive’ source.

”However,” Orion continued, his voice taking on a mature, pedagogical tone. ”Potter, Weasley, and Granger are equally culpable. They are aware of the egg. They are aware it is illegal, surely Granger must be. They are aware it is dangerous. Yet, instead of coming to you—their Head of House—or to the Headmaster, they are attempting to handle it themselves.”

He took a step closer to her desk.

”They are operating under the illusion that good intentions excuse catastrophic rule-breaking. They think because they like Mr. Hagrid, they can harbor a dragon. If you simply march down there and fix the problem for them, what do they learn? They learn that adults will clean up their messes. They learn the easy way out.”

McGonagall slowly sat back down. The strict disciplinarian in her recognized the undeniable truth in the eleven-year-old’s words.

”What are you suggesting, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked quietly.

”A controlled simulation,” Orion proposed. ”You and the Headmaster secretly retrieve the real egg. Contact the dragon reserve in Romania—I believe the Weasleys have a brother there who could facilitate a quiet transfer. Remove the danger entirely.”

”And then?”

”Replace it,” Orion said, a calculating glint in his eye. ”Transfigure a rock, or a pumpkin, into a perfect replica of the egg. Enchant it to radiate heat. Leave it in the fire. Leaving another kind of an egg works too.”

McGonagall’s eyes widened behind her square spectacles.

”Let them believe they are still hiding a dragon,” Orion explained softly. ”Let them sweat. Let them panic as the ’hatching’ day approaches. Let them realize the sheer, unmanageable terror of trying to hide a monster. They need to understand the ramifications of their choices, Professor. They need to realize that doing the right thing—coming to a teacher—is better than doing the easy, secretive thing.”

Orion stepped back, adjusting his cuffs.

”And when the fake egg finally ’hatches’ into a cloud of smoke or a harmless chicken... you can be there to issue the detentions they rightfully earned for their intent, without the school risking a fiery inferno. And the naive student in my house will find his grand trap empty, teaching him a lesson about premature gloating.”

The silence in the office was profound. The fire crackled, casting dancing light over McGonagall’s face. She stared at the young Slytherin, her expression a complex mixture of shock, awe, and a deep, grudging respect.

It was a brilliantly manipulative plan. It was undeniably Slytherin. But it was also fundamentally rooted in a desire for structured discipline and safety. It protected Hagrid from the Ministry, it protected the students from a dragon, and it delivered a harsh, necessary psychological lesson to her wayward Gryffindors.

”Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said finally, her voice hushed. ”That is... quite possibly the most Machiavellian approach to pedagogy I have ever heard.”

”I prefer to call it practical consequence management,” Orion offered a modest bow. ”I leave the execution in your capable hands, Professor. I trust my involvement in this intelligence gathering will remain confidential?”

”Of course,” she said, still looking at him as if he had grown a second head. ”And Orion?”

”Yes, Professor?”

”Fifty points to Slytherin,” she said firmly. ”For prioritizing the safety of the castle, and for demonstrating a maturity far beyond your years.”

”Thank you, Professor. Have a good evening.”

Orion turned and walked out of the office, his face perfectly neutral until the heavy oak door clicked shut behind him.

Once in the empty corridor, the interface materialized with a triumphant burst of golden light.

DING.

[ ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! ]

Tier: 2 (Advanced)

Name: The Dragon’s Advocate

Description: You successfully hijacked a major plot point, ruined your brother’s petty revenge scheme (saving him from detention), saved a dragon, and manipulated the Deputy Headmistress into running a psychological stress-test on the protagonists. You framed blatant manipulation as ”tough love” and got paid House Points to do it. Dumbledore should be taking notes from you.

Reward: 1x Animated Dragon Plushie.

Orion smirked, walking briskly toward the stairs leading to the dungeons.

”A plushie?” he thought to Sparkle, mildly amused. ”I orchestrate a masterclass in psychological warfare and I get a stuffed animal?”

”Check your inventory, tough guy,” Sparkle giggled. ”It’s not just a stuffed animal.”

Orion opened his mental grid. There, sitting next to the Wayfinder Compass, was the icon of a small, black, plush dragon.

Animated Dragon Plushie. Breathes real (but harmless) warm fire. Acts like a cat. Excellent for stress relief and intimidating small rodents.

”I suppose it will look nice sitting on my trunk,” Orion conceded.

He descended into the gloom of the dungeons, feeling incredibly satisfied. The Gryffindors were about to spend the next few weeks suffering from severe anxiety over a rock, Draco was going to be extremely confused when his master plan yielded a hatchling, and Orion was another step closer to a perfect, chaotic victory.

Life at Hogwarts was turning out to be quite entertaining.