Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

”Three!” Lockhart bellowed, his wand raised like a conductor’s baton.

Harry didn’t wait for a dramatic pause. He moved with the desperate, instinctive speed of someone who had learned early on that hesitating meant getting hit.

”Expelliarmus!” Harry roared.

A jet of red light tore across the golden platform, aimed squarely at Orion’s chest. It was fast, fueled by adrenaline and months of lingering resentment.

Orion didn’t dodge. He didn’t even shift his footing. He simply brought his Hawthorn wand up in a smooth, practiced arc.

”Protego.”

A shimmering, translucent blue dome erupted a foot in front of him. The red disarming charm hit the shield with a sharp, echoing CRACK, splashing harmlessly against the magical barrier like water hitting glass before dissipating into sparks.

A collective gasp rippled through the gathered students who knew the spellwork syllabus of Hogwarts. The Shield Charm was definitively fourth-year material, notoriously difficult to cast under pressure, and highly unusual for a second-year to master.

Snape’s eyes glittered from the sidelines.

Orion let the shield drop with a casual flick of his wrist. He looked at Harry, who was already adjusting his stance, wand raised for another volley.

”Adequate reflexes, Potter,” Orion noted aloud, his voice carrying clearly over the hushed crowd. ”But a severe lack of tactical awareness. You telegraph your casts.”

He sighed, shaking his head slowly as if deeply disappointed by the ambiance of the room.

”Furthermore,” Orion drawled, twirling his wand lazily between his fingers, ”the vibe in here is entirely inappropriate for a proper confrontation. A true boss fight... requires a boss theme.”

Harry blinked, thoroughly confused. ”What?”

Orion didn’t answer. He raised his wand high above his head, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second to lock his perception onto the magic. He didn’t just want light; he wanted a spectacle.

”Lumos Maxima,” he murmured.

Instead of a single blinding flash from his wand tip, Orion’s magic splintered. Half a dozen orbs of pure, glowing light detached themselves from his wand and began to orbit his body like miniature moons. They pulsed in varying intensities—some a soft, cool silver, others a fierce, blinding white—casting erratic, dancing shadows across the stage and making Orion look like a celestial entity wrapped in a localized constellation.

The crowd stared, mesmerized by the sheer aesthetic control.

Under the cover of the blinding lights, Orion’s left hand twitched.

Inventory. Retrieve.

The small crystal test tube materialized perfectly in his palm, hidden from the audience by the flare of the glowing orbs.

He popped the cork with his thumb. The silver mist of the recorded audio spilled out instantly. In the same fluid motion, he vanished the empty vial back into his sub-space storage, his hand empty once more before anyone could even register movement.

Suddenly, the Great Hall was filled with music.

It didn’t sound like it was coming from a radio or an instrument; it sounded as if the very air of the room had begun to vibrate. It started with a heavy, plunging, ominous bassline that rattled the floorboards, quickly accelerating into a frantic, heart-pounding cascade of frantic piano keys—a driving, breathless, heavy-metal aria that screamed of imminent, high-stakes combat.

The students jumped. Lockhart looked wildly around for an orchestra.

”What is that music?!” Ron Weasley yelled from his duel with Draco, momentarily distracted before having to dodge a spark from Draco’s wand.

Orion smirked, the glowing orbs illuminating the predatory glint in his blue eyes. The soundtrack was perfect.

”Let’s dance, Potter,” Orion said, his voice cutting through the frantic melody.

He slashed his wand forward. Two of the blinding white orbs orbiting him shot out like cannonballs directly at Harry’s face.

Harry yelled, throwing his arm up to shield his eyes from the sudden, intense glare. The distraction was instantaneous.

”Expelliarmus!” Orion cast, sending a standard red jet trailing right behind the light orbs.

Harry, temporarily blinded but operating on pure survival instinct, threw himself sideways into a clumsy roll. The red light sailed past his ear, singeing a few hairs. He scrambled back to his feet, breathless, his green eyes locked onto Orion’s glowing form.

”Flipendo!” Harry yelled, firing back, abandoning the ’disarm only’ rule in his panic.

”Protego,” Orion deflected the knocback jinx easily, feeling the kinetic impact against his magical core. He calibrated his assessment. Potter is strong. Raw power, zero finesse. He hits hard because he’s scared.

Orion let the shield drop and immediately went on the offensive.

Harry fired another Disarming Charm, stepping forward aggressively.

Orion sidestepped it with a dancer’s grace, slipping under the red beam. As Harry’s momentum carried him forward, Orion aimed his wand not at Harry, but at the golden platform directly beneath the Gryffindor’s feet.

”Glisseo.”

A patch of the stage turned instantly into frictionless ice.

Harry’s lead foot hit the spell. His legs flew out from under him with comical speed. He let out a yelp, windmilling his arms as he fell backward.

Before Harry could even hit the ground, Orion’s wand whipped upward.

”Wingardium Leviosa!”

The levitation charm caught Harry mid-fall. He was suddenly hoisted five feet into the air, dangling upside down by his ankles like a trapped bat, his robes falling over his face, his glasses slipping down his nose. The frantic piano music swelled to a dramatic crescendo.

”Hey! Put me down!” Harry shouted, struggling wildly in the air, gripping his wand tightly but unable to aim while inverted and blinded by his own clothes.

”As you wish,” Orion said mildly.

He canceled the levitation charm.

Gravity resumed its relentless hold. Harry plummeted, landing flat on his back on the hard stage with a breathless, painful OOF.

Before Harry could even clear his vision or raise his hand, Orion stepped forward ready for the climax of the battle.

Orion pointed the tip of his Hawthorn wand directly towards the struggling boy. The remaining light orbs orbited around them both, casting harsh, dramatic shadows over the defeated protagonist.

”Expelliarmus,” Orion whispered softly.

The red light sparked at point-blank range. Harry’s holly wand was wrenched from his loosened grip, flying up into the air and landing neatly in Orion’s waiting left hand.

The duel was over. Total, absolute domination.

Orion looked at the boy gasping for air on the floor. He didn’t gloat. He didn’t sneer like Draco would have. He looked... bored.

”Finite Incantatem,” Orion said, waving his wand in a wide arc.

The glowing orbs vanished.

Simultaneously, the frantic, heavy-metal piano music cut off abruptly, leaving a ringing, stunned silence in the Great Hall. The sheer theatricality of the encounter left the audience breathless.

Orion tossed Harry’s wand onto the boy’s chest. He stepped back, offering a perfectly polite, dismissive bow.

”Level complete, Potter,” Orion said, his voice carrying clearly into the silence. ”You lose.”