Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

It was a common misconception among the Muggle-born population of Hogwarts that Purebloods were entirely ignorant of non-magical inventions. This wasn’t strictly true. They weren’t ignorant; they were indifferent.

Lucius Malfoy knew what a car was; he just found the concept of manually steering a metal box through traffic to be a peasant’s endeavor when Apparition existed. Narcissa knew what electricity was; having heard of it, but never seen it since electricity did not work around high magical concentration areas.

Swimming pools fell into a similar gray area of knowledge.

The magical elite were aware of them. Narcissa had once described a trip to a wizarding chateau in southern France where the gardens featured an ”ornamental reservoir”—essentially a glorified fountain where one could watch the water while sipping wine. But the concept of a dedicated, tiled structure filled with chlorinated water for the sole purpose of recreational exercise? It was seen as frivolous. Why swim in a box when one could swim in a lake, the sea, or simply use a Scouring Charm to get clean? Yes, there were baths, which could be categorized as swimming pools, but they were not dedicated swimming pools.

”Purebloods really need to learn how to live a little,” Orion muttered, standing in the middle of the lower south lawn. ”Life isn’t just about efficiency and dark artifacts. Sometimes, it’s about floating on an inflatable raft with a cold drink.”

He surveyed the area he had claimed. It was a perfect spot, shielded from the manor by the tall yew hedge and open to the afternoon sun. The grass was lush and green, unaware that it was about to be terraformed.

Orion drew his Hawthorn wand. He didn’t want a boring rectangle; that would clash with the organic curves of the Malfoy gardens. He visualized a kidney shape—elegant, curved, and spacious.

He pointed his wand at the ground. A thin stream of purple fire hissed from the tip, scorching a precise outline into the turf.

”Phase One: Excavation,” Orion announced to the empty garden.

He rolled up the sleeves of his silk shirt. This was going to be heavy work, a stress test for his new understanding of magic.

He centered himself, planting his feet firmly. He looked at the earth within the scorched line. He didn’t just see dirt; he perceived the soil as a dense, movable mass, separate from the bedrock beneath it. He visualized the volume of earth rising, disconnecting from its ancient resting place.

”Wingardium Leviosa.”

He swept his wand upward in a slow, heaving arc.

The ground grumbled. The grass tore with a sound like ripping canvas. A massive, kidney-shaped slab of earth, three feet thick, tore itself free from the ground and hovered in the air, dirt raining down from its underside.

Orion felt the weight of it in his core—tons of soil held aloft by his will. His arm trembled slightly. The Hawthorn wand hummed, channeling the immense flow of power.

”Evanesco.”

He slashed his wand.

The massive floating island of dirt vanished instantly, sent into non-being.

Orion exhaled sharply. ”One layer down. Two to go.”

He repeated the process. He lifted the next layer, carving out the deep end. He lifted the third, shaping the shallow slope. It was grueling work. Sweat beaded on his forehead. This was raw telekinesis on a massive scale, relying on his perception of depth and volume. He used his wand because attempting this wandlessly would have likely resulted in him passing out or accidentally vanishing his own shoes.

After an hour, a massive, rough-hewn crater scarred the perfection of the lawn. It was ugly, brown, and jagged.

”Phase Two: Refinement,” Orion wiped his brow. ”Time to call in the specialist.”

”Dobby!”

CRACK.

The elf appeared on the edge of the crater, wearing a tea cozy pillowcase. He looked down into the massive hole, his eyes widening to the size of saucers.

”Master Orion!” Dobby squeaked. ”Is Master digging a trap for a giant? Or is Master looking for buried treasure?”

”Neither, Dobby. I am building a swimming pool,” Orion explained, hopping down into the shallow end of the pit. ”A large bathtub, or a lake but smaller and without a giant squid.”

Dobby nodded slowly, processing the concept. ”A lake box. Dobby understands.”

”I have done the heavy digging,” Orion gestured to the raw earth walls. ”But I need this to be smooth. I need it lined. White marble, Dobby. Smooth as glass, but with enough texture so we don’t slip and crack our heads open. And I need a gentle slope from here to the deep end.”

He looked at the elf. ”Can you do that? Can you shape the stone?”

”Dobby can!” the elf beamed, chest puffing out. ”Dobby is excellent with stone! The Malfoy elves maintain the floors! Dobby knows the stone magic!”

”Stone magic?” Orion raised an eyebrow.

”Watch, Master!”

Dobby stepped into the pit. He closed his large, tennis-ball eyes and snapped his long fingers.

SNAP.

Orion watched, fascinated.

It wasn’t like wizard magic. When Orion cast a spell, he felt the flow, the direction, the structure. He built the effect.

When Dobby used magic, the world just... obeyed.

The raw earth walls began to shimmer. From the ground itself, white stone began to bleed upward, as if the soil was transmuting into marble. It flowed like thick cream, covering the dirt, smoothing out the jagged edges Orion had left behind.

Dobby waved his fingers again, a rhythmic dance.

The marble hardened. It knit itself together without seams. A beautiful, pearl-white lining spread across the crater, forming a perfect, watertight basin. The slope smoothed out into a gentle gradient. The rim of the pool formed a perfect, rounded lip of coping stones.

It was masterful. It was effortless.

Orion watched Dobby work, a profound sense of curiosity warring with the ingrained societal norms he had been taught.

”Why?” Orion whispered to himself. ”Why do wizards treat them like vermin?”

The pureblood dogma stated that elves were lesser beings, subservient and weak. Yet, here was Dobby, restructuring matter on a molecular level without a focus, without an incantation, simply by willing the stone to change.

”They rely on our magical reserves to survive,” Orion mused, recalling the theory of the bond. ”An unbound elf goes mad or loses their power slowly. They are symbiotic beings, in a way. But the power they wield...”

He watched Dobby smooth a corner with a wave of his hand.

”It’s not structured like ours. It’s not perception-based in the human sense. It’s... elemental. They are part of the magic, not just wielders of it. They don’t command the stone; they ask it to move, and because they are creatures of the earth, the stone listens.”

Orion looked at his own hands. Could a human learn that? Could he learn to bypass the need for perception and simply commune with the magic?

”Probably not,” Orion decided, a hint of regret in his thought. ”Biological incompatibility. My core is a reactor; his core is a conduit. We are essentially different in nature.”

”Master Orion!” Dobby called out, opening his eyes. He looked quite triumphant. ”It is done! The marble is set! It is smooth for feet!”

Orion looked around. The raw pit had been transformed into a gleaming, luxurious basin that would rival a Roman bathhouse.

”It is perfect, Dobby,” Orion said genuinely. ”Better than I could have done in a week.”

”Dobby lives to serve!”

”Take a break, Dobby. Go raid the kitchen for a snack. You earned it.”

CRACK.

Dobby vanished.

Orion stood alone in the empty, white pool. The sun beat down on the gleaming stone.

”Hole dug. Liner set,” Orion checked his mental list. ”Now for the water. And the heating charms. And the filtration runes.”

He climbed out of the pool, standing on the grass. He raised his wand again.

”Aguamenti.”

A jet of clear, cool water erupted from his wand.

”This,” Orion sighed, watching the trickle of water hit the bottom of the massive pool, ”is going to take a while.”