Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the Great Hall, casting long beams of pale light across the house tables. To the casual observer, it was a Monday like any other. Owls swooped overhead dropping letters, toast was buttered with rhythmic scraping sounds, and the low hum of conversation filled the air.

For Orion Malfoy, however, the normalcy was a stage play he was watching from the front row.

He sat at the Slytherin table, methodically peeling a mandarin orange. Beside him, Draco was loudly complaining about a Charms essay due that afternoon, completely oblivious to the fact that his brother had spent the previous night binding the Boy Who Lived in magical ropes.

Orion’s gaze drifted across the hall.

The Gryffindor table was quieter than usual. Harry Potter was conspicuously absent, his seat empty. However, his lieutenants had returned.

Hermione Granger sat near the edge of the table, a book open in front of her, though she wasn’t reading. She looked pale, her eyes rimmed with red. As if sensing his gaze, she looked up. Her brown eyes met Orion’s blue ones across the hall. There was no glare, no accusation. Just a flicker of confusion, a hint of wariness, and then she quickly looked back down at her plate, retreating into her shell.

Ron Weasley sat beside her. He didn’t look up. He was aggressively stabbing a sausage, his face set in a mask of sullen anger. He refused to even glance toward the Slytherin table, as if acknowledging Orion’s existence would cause him physical pain.

”Huh, Potter is missing?” Draco noted, following Orion’s gaze. ”Maybe he’s finally realized he’s not cut out for this and gone back to the Muggles.”

”Unlikely,” Orion murmured, popping a slice of orange into his mouth. ”He is probably just resting. Heroism is exhausting work, or so I hear.”

Breakfast concluded, and the students began to file out for their first classes. As Orion stood up, adjusting his bag, a shadow fell over him.

Professor Snape stood there. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in a week, his skin more sallow than usual, but his eyes were sharp.

”Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said, his voice low enough that only Orion could hear. ”With me.”

Draco opened his mouth to ask if he should come too, but a single look from Snape silenced him. Orion nodded to his brother and fell into step beside his Head of House.

They walked away from the flow of students, heading not toward the dungeons, but toward the marble staircase.

”I trust you slept well?” Snape asked without looking at him, his tone dry.

”Like the dead, Professor,” Orion replied. ”Or perhaps better than the dead, considering recent events.”

Snape’s lip curled slightly. ”Indeed.”

They ascended the stairs in silence for a moment before Snape spoke again. This time, his voice lacked its usual bite. It sounded... tired. And strangely human.

”I am not going to ask you how you knew,” Snape said quietly, staring straight ahead. ”Nor will I ask why you carry specific items in your pocket, or how a First Year navigates a set of traps designed to kill adults.”

Orion kept his face neutral. ”I appreciate that, sir.”

”I am merely going to offer you a piece of advice, Orion,” Snape stopped on the second-floor landing, turning to face his godson. ”You are talented. You are perceptive. You have a mind that reminds me of... people I once knew. People who thought they could outsmart the world.”

Snape’s black eyes bore into him.

”Do not let your competence become your noose. You played a dangerous game last night. You won. But the board changes constantly. Do not assume you can control every variable. If you get entangled in things beyond your abilities... even I may not be able to extract you.”

It was the closest thing to fatherly concern Severus Snape was capable of showing.

”I understand, Professor,” Orion said sincerely. ”I will be careful.”

Snape held his gaze for a second longer, then nodded abruptly. He turned to the stone gargoyle guarding the spiral staircase.

”Chocolate Shrimps,” Snape muttered with distaste.

The gargoyle leaped aside.

”The Headmaster is expecting you,” Snape said. ”Do not keep him waiting.”

With a swirl of robes, Snape turned and descended the stairs, heading back to his dungeon sanctuary.

Orion stepped onto the moving spiral staircase. He ascended to the oak door with the brass knocker. He didn’t need to knock; the door swung open as he approached.

The office was bathed in morning light. The silver instruments were puffing away contentedly.

Orion’s eyes went immediately to the golden perch near the window. It was empty.

”Good morning, Orion,” Albus Dumbledore said pleasantly from behind his desk. He was wearing robes of sunny yellow today, a stark contrast to the grim events of the night before.

”Headmaster,” Orion bowed slightly, taking the seat opposite the desk. ”I see Fawkes is out? I was hoping to... exchange pleasantries regarding fashion again.”

Dumbledore chuckled softly. ”Fawkes comes and goes as the wind dictates. He is a free spirit. I am sure he would have enjoyed the conversation; he finds few humans worth chatting with.”

Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk. The humor in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a weary gravity.

”But we have other matters to discuss. Specifically, the fallout of last night.”

”The stone is safe?” Orion asked.

”The stone is safe,” Dumbledore confirmed. ”And... the immediate threat has passed. Though not without cost.”

He sighed, looking at a point past Orion’s shoulder.

”I have spoken with Mrs. Higgs this morning. She arrived early to collect Terence. It is... a heavy day for their house.”

”His father?” Orion asked softly, though he already suspected the answer.

”Dead,” Dumbledore said simply. ”When the spirit—the same shadow that possessed poor Quirrell—fled the manor, the strain was too much for Lord Higgs. He passed away in the night.”

Orion nodded slowly. It was a cold reality check. This wasn’t a game for everyone. People died.

”Terence... he relayed much of what happened,” Dumbledore continued. ”He was distraught, naturally. But before he left, he asked me to convey a message to you.”

Dumbledore looked Orion in the eye.

”He said: ’Thank you.’ He did not elaborate, and I did not press him. But I believe he realizes that by stopping him, you saved him from a far worse fate than expulsion. You prevented him from handing the Stone to a monster.”

”I just stopped a thief, Headmaster,” Orion said quietly. ”If he finds comfort in that, then I am glad.”

”Humility becomes you, Orion,” Dumbledore smiled faintly. ”Now... regarding the other participants of last night’s ordeal.”

He leaned back in his chair.

”Harry is resting. Madam Pomfrey has prescribed him a rigorous regimen of sleep and chocolate. However, I have had a long conversation with Professor McGonagall, who in turn has spoken at length with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger.”

Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles.

”It seems that the root of this misunderstanding lies in... perception. Miss Granger was quite forthcoming. She explained that Harry and Ron, fueled by their schoolboy rivalry with Draco and perhaps a touch of jealousy toward your own academic standing, constructed a narrative in which you were the villain.”

Dumbledore spread his hands helplessly.

”Even when Miss Granger argued against it—pointing out your assistance with the troll and your general conduct—they chose to believe the worst. Confirmation bias is a powerful thing, especially in the young.”

He looked at Orion with a gaze that was pleading for understanding.

”They truly believed they were saving the school from you. In their minds, they were the heroes stopping a Slytherin plot. I must ask you, Orion... to forgive them. They are merely children, blinded by fanciful dreams of heroism and House prejudice. They are not to be blamed for their folly.”

Orion sat in silence for a moment. He processed the request. Forgive them because they are stupid. It was a classic Dumbledore move.

Orion straightened his posture. He didn’t look angry. He looked worried.

”Headmaster,” Orion began carefully. ”I am not angry. I do not hold grudges against people for being... imaginatively challenged. I can forgive the accusation. Sticks and stones, as some might say.”

He leaned forward slightly, his expression turning serious.

”But I must be pragmatic. Last night, Harry Potter attacked me. He tried to fight me. Because he felt I was evil.”

Orion tapped his fingers on the armrest.

”Forgiveness is easy. But safety is harder. I worry, Headmaster, that this behavior sets a precedent. If Harry can attack a student based on a hunch and receive only a lecture on ’fanciful dreams’... what happens next year? What happens if he decides Draco is up to something? Or me again?”

He met Dumbledore’s gaze firmly.

”I cannot simply walk the corridors looking over my shoulder, wondering if the Chosen One is going to hex me in the back because he had a bad dream or because I wear green robes every day. I need assurance, sir, that this ’heroism’ will be curbed.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly, the weight of Orion’s words landing. It was a valid point. He couldn’t dismiss it.

”You are right to be concerned,” Dumbledore admitted. ”And I intend to speak with Harry the moment he is well enough. We will have a very serious discussion about the difference between bravery and recklessness, and the danger of baseless accusations. I am sure he will understand.”

”I hope so,” Orion said, his face relaxing slightly. ”For everyone’s sake.”