Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

Professor Flitwick did not immediately interrogate. He sat behind his large, cluttered desk, surrounded by levitating books and gently glowing charm-work, looking like a man who had spent the entire day piecing together a particularly difficult and unpleasant jigsaw puzzle.

”I shall lay out my part of the board first, Orion,” Flitwick began, his squeaky voice softer than usual, tinged with a profound weariness. ”Perhaps that will make your explanations... easier.”

Orion nodded once, leaning back slightly in the plush armchair. He maintained a posture of respectful attention, his face an unreadable mask.

”When the first theft occurred—the shoes,” Flitwick recounted, gesturing to the ’Secret Admirer’ letter on his desk. ”I was quite surprised by the nature of the note, and the sheer volume of footwear discovered under Miss Edgecombe’s bed. The fact remained that this theft was clearly not executed with the intention of actual stealing, but of framing. A point underscored by the fact that the thief only took the left shoes.”

Flitwick frowned, adjusting his spectacles.

”Miss Edgecombe was utterly confused, and so was I. Why go through the effort of breaching a House dormitory to steal a single shoe per person, rather than heirlooms, money, or wands? It seemed incredibly pointed, but simultaneously harmless.”

Orion remained silent, allowing the Charms Master to unspool his narrative.

”Then, the same pattern happened again. And again,” Flitwick continued, his fingers interlacing on the polished wood. ”Hairclips. Ties. Robes. The older years were becoming genuinely worried, and the paranoia in the tower was palpable.”

Flitwick sighed, a sound that conveyed a deep, personal failure.

”Then, today in the morning. The entire Ravenclaw dorm was locked out from the rest of the castle. Yet again, nothing was actually intended to cause physical harm. No theft. No injury. Just a perfect, absolute lockdown. A grievous offense against school rules, certainly, but in actuality... entirely harmless.”

The tiny professor paused, his eyes searching Orion’s face for a reaction. Finding none, he pressed on.

”It was only this morning, after speaking with a few of the Ravenclaw prefects,” Flitwick’s voice dropped, laced with a bitter disappointment, ”that the truth finally emerged. Under the pressure of the lockdown, one of them blurted out that this series of bizarre occurrences was likely retaliation. Retaliation for how someone had been stealing Miss Lovegood’s items.”

Flitwick slapped a hand flat on the desk, a rare display of anger.

”I did not know of Miss Lovegood’s items being stolen, Orion,” Flitwick said sharply. ”And now, it is in the open. The prefect revealed that Miss Lovegood was deliberately locked outside the dorm last night, and they believed that specific act is what caused them to, in turn, get stuck inside.”

He shook his head, looking utterly crestfallen.

”I must admit, it was baffling... and deeply shameful... that so many of my students, even prefects, were willfully aware of such bullying, yet chose to ignore it.”

Orion felt a flicker of grim satisfaction. The system was broken; Flitwick was finally seeing the cracks.

”I spoke with Miss Lovegood immediately,” Flitwick recounted softly. ”She placed her own thoughts on this... which, I will admit, are wonderfully weird and often difficult to parse. But the only thing I truly grasped from our conversation was the reason she did not come to me.”

Flitwick looked at Orion, his eyes shining with unshed emotion.

”She did not come to me because she believed I would not be able to do anything to stop the ’Nargles’.” He let out a shaky breath. ”A truly upsetting thought for a Head of House to bear. That a student feels so unsupported that they accept the cold rather than ask for help.”

”A pragmatic assessment on her part, Professor,” Orion murmured gently. ”The bullying was insidious. Without proof, your hands would have been tied.”

”Indeed,” Flitwick agreed heavily. ”I decided I needed to consult Albus about this entire, messy affair. And that is when I received another shock of my life.”

The Charms Master leaned forward, his gaze intense.

”Albus, it seems, had apparently realized it on the morning of the very first theft. He knew immediately that this act was not performed by a student, but by a house-elf. And not a Hogwarts elf, but likely a private one bound to a specific family.”

Orion’s internal alarms flared, though his face remained perfectly composed. Dumbledore knew from day one. And he didn’t intervene.

”Albus told me he had already figured out who was behind the elf, and these acts,” Flitwick continued, his voice tight. ”And he chose not to get involved. Why? Because, again, he reasoned that no act was actually harming a student, and no actual permanent theft was involved. It was only, according to him, ’misplacement’ with a theatrical flair.”

”The Headmaster has a unique perspective on danger,” Orion noted dryly.

”I told Albus that I needed to know who was involved, because this was a matter of the safety and psychological well-being of my students,” Flitwick stated firmly. ”He chose to give me your name to inquire. But... he told me to think it over carefully. And to perhaps talk with you before making any kind of rash judgments or leaping to punishments.”

Flitwick sat back, exhaustion written into the lines of his face.

”I agreed to his condition. After all, I know you are a reasonable, highly intelligent student, Orion. I still have not forgotten the help you gave me last year during the troll incident. Your quick thinking saved lives.”

He gestured to the crumpled letter on the desk.

”So, I chose to spend the rest of the day thinking about how to broach this topic. And it was then that I decided to verify Albus’s claim. I chose to check the ’Secret Admirer’ letters against the homework submissions from every year. I wanted to see whose handwriting, however disguised, matched.”

Flitwick folded his hands, the narrative complete.

”Now,” Flitwick said softly, his tone shifting from investigator to educator. ”All I ask is to hear your side of things, Orion. Why you chose not to come to me with this. And why... why you chose to go about it with this particular, terrifying method.”

The office was silent. The faint ticking of a clock on the mantle seemed deafening.

Orion sat perfectly still, absorbing the information.

Dumbledore knew. Dumbledore had known the entire time that Orion was using Dobby to terrorize Ravenclaw Tower, and he had actively chosen to let it play out. He had watched Orion operate, assessing his methods, his restraint, and his ultimate goal. It was another test. Another observation.

And Flitwick? Flitwick was hurt. He was a good man who had realized his house was failing one of its own, and he was trying to understand the vigilante who had stepped in to fix it.

”The ball is in your court, boss,” Sparkle whispered in his mind. ”He gave you the entire board state. Now you just have to explain the checkmate.”

Orion uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, bridging the physical distance between himself and the Charms Master.

He didn’t offer a smirk. He didn’t offer the usual Slytherin arrogance. He looked at Professor Flitwick with absolute, cold sincerity.

”I chose not to come to you, Professor,” Orion began, his voice low and carrying the weight of unvarnished truth, ”because, as Miss Lovegood correctly surmised, you could not have fixed it.”