Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The air in the Headmaster’s office was electric, crackling with the sudden, terrifying shift from investigation to execution.

Dumbledore was already moving, his plum robes sweeping across the floor as he headed toward the fireplace. He paused, turning back to Professor McGonagall, who was herding Harry and Ron toward the door.

”Minerva,” Dumbledore called out, his voice sharp and authoritative. ”A small detour, if you please. It would be best if you escort both Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy directly to their respective dormitories before securing the rest of the Houses.”

Ron planted his feet instantly, his face a mask of stubborn Gryffindor loyalty. ”I’m not leaving Harry!”

Dumbledore looked at the red-haired boy with a mixture of patience and firm resolve. ”Harry will be needed, Ronald. His specific linguistic abilities are required to bypass the entrance. As for his safety, I assure you... nothing will harm him as long as he is by my side.”

The absolute certainty in Dumbledore’s voice left no room for argument. Ron deflated slightly, though his eyes remained fixed on his best friend with fierce worry. Harry offered a small, tense nod of reassurance.

McGonagall placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder. ”Come along, Weasley.”

She turned her stern gaze to Orion. ”Mr. Malfoy.”

Orion didn’t move toward the door. He stood his ground, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture perfectly relaxed but unyielding.

”I apologize, Headmaster,” Orion said smoothly, his voice calm and respectful, ”but I am not going to be leaving right now. Especially not when the Chamber is about to be breached.”

Dumbledore stopped halfway to the fireplace. He turned slowly, his blue eyes narrowing behind his spectacles.

”You have done your part, Orion,” Dumbledore said softly, though the edge of a command was present in his tone. ”You have performed a great service by informing me of its location and the nature of the beast. You should trust in us to do the right thing and deal with it appropriately.”

”This has nothing to do with a lack of trust in your capabilities, sir,” Orion countered seamlessly. He stepped forward, bridging the physical distance between student and Headmaster. ”It is a matter of my own clear conscience. I am already heavily involved in this investigation. I discovered the entrance. I identified the Basilisk. I refuse to back out at the most critical phase and simply wait in my dormitory for a summary report.”

He held Dumbledore’s gaze, projecting an aura of absolute, unwavering conviction.

”I am a Malfoy,” Orion added quietly, lowering his voice. ”We do not leave a job half-finished.”

The silence stretched for a long, tense moment. McGonagall looked as though she was about to forcefully levitate Orion out the door, but Dumbledore raised a hand, stopping her.

He stared at the twelve-year-old boy, weighing the risk of bringing a student into a lethal combat zone against the sheer, undeniable competence Orion had displayed thus far.

”Very well,” Dumbledore conceded with a heavy sigh, returning to the fireplace. ”We will bench this discussion for now. I haven’t the time to argue with a stubborn Slytherin.”

McGonagall looked deeply unhappy with the concession but nodded. She ushered a protesting Ron Weasley out of the office, the heavy door clicking shut behind them.

Orion remained standing near the center of the room, internally celebrating the victory. He hadn’t just secured a front-row seat to the endgame; he had secured his position as an indispensable asset.

”That was a bold move,” Sparkle’s voice buzzed in his ear, sounding impressed. ”You essentially told the most powerful wizard in the world ’no’ and got away with it.”

”He knows I’m right,” Orion thought back, a small smirk touching his lips. ”I am the architect of this discovery. He can’t just bench the lead investigator.”

Dumbledore picked up a handful of glittering Floo powder from a silver dish on the mantle.

”Headmaster,” Orion asked politely, breaking the silence. ”Are you going to involve the Ministry?”

Dumbledore paused, powder in hand. He looked back at Orion, his expression unreadable.

”While Hogwarts is filled with masters of various magical branches,” Dumbledore said slowly, ”it would be the height of arrogance for us to take matters such as a Class XXXXX beast hidden beneath a school into our own hands entirely. A creature of this magnitude requires specialized containment.”

He tossed the powder into the flames, which roared a brilliant, emerald green.

”Bones Manor,” Dumbledore called out clearly.

He didn’t step through. He knelt, plunging his head closer to the fire to speak directly with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Orion leaned against the edge of a spindle-legged table, a sense of profound relief washing over him. The decision to involve Amelia Bones was a stroke of luck he hadn’t anticipated. Madam Bones was pragmatic, ruthless, and highly competent. She wouldn’t play politics with a giant snake; she would bring the heavy artillery.

With Dumbledore occupied, Orion shifted his attention to the golden perch near the window.

Fawkes the Phoenix was awake, preening his magnificent crimson feathers with a sharp, golden beak. He paused as Orion approached, tilting his head and fixing the boy with a dark, intelligent eye.

”What do you want, little one?” Fawkes trilled softly, the melodic sound translating into haughty amusement in Orion’s mind. ”I know I am beautiful. You may admire me from a distance. Don’t you dare steal my feathers for your pocket thief.”

Orion raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. ”I am not here to steal your feathers, Fawkes. Though your modesty is truly inspiring.”

He stared at the immortal bird, a sudden, ridiculous thought blooming in his mind.

I still need the tears, Orion realized. The Basilisk is a biological nightmare. Even with Aurors present, a stray fang or a splash of venom is a death sentence. I need the antidote.

He mentally debated the pros and cons of his discarded plan—telling a tragic, fictional story to a creature of pure empathy.

If I tell him the story about the blind Kneazle kitten... Orion mused, his hand twitching towards summoning a spare, empty crystal vial from his inventory.

”Do it,” Sparkle hissed eagerly. ”I dare you. I double-dog dare you. It will be the funniest rejection in the history of magic.”

Before Orion could decide whether to risk total social humiliation in front of a magical bird, the green flames roared behind him.

Dumbledore stood up, brushing soot from his plum velvet sleeves. His face was set in grim, determined lines.

”I have spoken to Amelia Bones,” Dumbledore announced, turning to face Orion and a still-terrified Harry Potter.

He walked back to his desk, picking up the Elder Wand.

”She is arranging the relevant personnel for this excursion,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes flashing with a cold, terrifying light. ”A squad of specialized Hit Wizards and beast tamers. She will arrive via the Floo network in a few minutes.”

He looked at Harry, his expression softening slightly.

”Prepare yourself, Harry. We are going to need your voice.”

Harry nodded shakily, his grip tightening on his holly wand.

Orion remained silent, leaning casually against the table. He checked his dragon-hide holster, ensuring his Hawthorn wand was secure.

The endgame had officially begun. And Orion Malfoy was ready for the curtain to rise.