Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The Headmaster’s office settled into a heavy, expectant silence.

Albus Dumbledore stood behind his desk, the Elder Wand resting lightly in his fingers, his eyes fixed on the empty green flames of the fireplace. Harry Potter sat stiffly in a chintz armchair, clutching his holly wand as if it were a lifeline.

Orion Malfoy, entirely unbothered by the impending confrontation with a millennium-old biological weapon, leaned casually against a silver, spinning instrument near the window. He gazed out at the vast, impenetrable darkness of the Hogwarts grounds, his reflection faint against the glass.

”Albus? Permission to enter.”

The crisp, no-nonsense voice of Amelia Bones echoed from the emerald flames, shattering the quiet.

”Granted, Amelia,” Dumbledore replied immediately.

With a roar of fire, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement stepped out of the grate. Madam Bones was a formidable witch. She wore a severe, square-cut monocle and a thick, dark cloak over her Ministry robes. Her iron-grey hair was cropped short, and her expression was one of profound, skeptical irritation. She carried herself with the blunt force of a bludger.

”I have informed Kingsley to assemble a specialized containment squad,” Amelia stated without preamble, brushing a fleck of soot from her sleeve. She didn’t look at the boys; her sharp eyes were locked entirely on Dumbledore. ”They are mobilizing at the Ministry now. But Albus... I must ask you directly. Have you confirmed this sighting?”

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a hard whisper.

”A Basilisk? Here, in Britain? Beneath a school full of children? The very concept is unheard of. It borders on the unbelievable.”

Dumbledore met her gaze squarely. ”I have not seen the beast myself, Amelia. And frankly, if I had laid eyes upon a Basilisk... I would likely be standing before you as a rather decorative statue right now.”

A short, sudden snort of genuine amusement escaped Orion from the shadows by the window.

Harry shot him a glare, but Amelia finally turned her head, noticing the two students for the first time. Her monocle glinted in the candlelight.

”Jokes aside,” Dumbledore continued smoothly, drawing her attention back. ”All of the information we have gathered over the past months corroborates the existence of a Serpent of Slytherin. And while we do not possess tangible, scale-and-bone proof at this exact moment... the circumstantial evidence cannot be ignored.”

Amelia sighed, a heavy, tired sound. ”Yes, the petrifications. The water, the camera, the ghost. It fits the profile. It is the only creature capable of such varied, indirect lethality.”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose beneath her monocle. ”Can you run me through the specifics once again? Just the salient points, Albus. So I can relay a concise, actionable threat assessment to my subordinates before we breach the tunnels.”

”In that case,” Dumbledore smiled slightly, gesturing toward the window with a sweeping motion of his hand. ”I shall leave the explanation to the individual who actually found the Chamber in the first place, and who correctly identified the monster within it.”

Amelia’s eyebrows shot up. She turned fully, her sharp gaze landing squarely on the twelve-year-old boy leaning against the windowsill.

Orion pushed off the wall and stepped into the light. He offered a polite, shallow bow.

”Good evening, Madam Bones,” Orion greeted her smoothly. ”It is a pleasure to see you again. I believe we crossed paths briefly during a Ministry gala last year, though my father monopolized most of your time.”

Amelia stared at him. She recognized the outlier black hair (as discussed by many at that time as the only one different from other Malfoys), the aristocratic features, and the distinct, arrogant posture of a Malfoy. But there was a cold, calculating intelligence in his dark blue eyes that she hadn’t expected from Lucius’s offspring.

”Orion Malfoy,” Amelia said, her tone neutralizing into professional assessment. ”I remember. My niece, Susan, has told me about you. In fact, she speaks of you almost as much as she speaks about Mr. Potter here.”

Orion offered a faint, charming smile. ”I am flattered that my academic reputation has reached the Hufflepuff common room. But perhaps we can save our friendly conversation for later, Madam. We have a rather pressing issue regarding the plumbing.”

Amelia’s lips twitched in what might have been a suppressed smirk. She crossed her arms. ”The floor is yours, Mr. Malfoy. Impress me.”

Orion didn’t hesitate. He launched into a flawless, clinical breakdown of the situation.

He detailed the history of the attacks fifty years prior, the involvement of Rubeus Hagrid and Tom Riddle, and the suspicious location of Moaning Myrtle’s death. He explained his deduction regarding the hissing requirement to open the copper tap in the second-floor lavatory, and how he had identified the Basilisk’s unique method of indirect petrification based on the victims’ surroundings.

He spoke with the absolute confidence of a seasoned Auror delivering a mission briefing. He omitted any mention of the Diary and his confrontation with Potter in the bathroom prior to this meeting. To Amelia Bones, he was simply a terrifyingly perceptive prodigy who had connected dots the faculty had missed.

As he concluded the summary, the heavy oak door of the office swung open.

Professor McGonagall strode in, looking breathless but resolute. Behind her, a phalanx of concerned authority entered the room: Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, and finally, a furious-looking Professor Snape.

”All students have been accounted for, Headmaster,” McGonagall announced briskly, catching her breath. ”A professor as well as senior prefects, have been situated at the entrance of each dormitory. The castle is on full lockdown.”

Amelia nodded approvingly. ”Good work, Minerva. Good evening, Pomona. Filius.”

”Amelia,” McGonagall greeted her back, relief evident in her eyes at the sight of the Ministry backup.

Snape, however, ignored the pleasantries. He swept past the other teachers and stopped dead, his black eyes locking onto Orion with a mixture of sheer disbelief and smoldering anger. He had been blindsided by this revelation. To learn that one of his own Slytherins had discovered the Chamber of Secrets and was currently briefing the Head of the DMLE while he, the Head of House, the Godfather to boot, had been brewing potions, was a massive blow to his pride and his control.

Snape’s glare shifted instantly from Orion to Harry Potter, who shrank back into his armchair. Snape looked as if Harry’s mere existence was the root cause of every problem in the castle, a sentiment Orion entirely agreed with.

”Mr. Malfoy,” Flitwick squeaked, bustling forward to peer up at the boy. The tiny Charms Master shook his head, a look of profound, exasperated fondness on his face. ”You really do know how not to keep the castle peaceful, don’t you?”

”I assure you, Professor,” Orion replied, his tone perfectly polite but layered with a hint of steel, ”I am not the instigator of this chaos. I am merely the light that exposes the reality hidden in the shadows. Blame Salazar Slytherin for his poor taste in pets, not me.”

Flitwick chuckled nervously.

Before Snape could unleash a verbal reprimand, the green flames of the fireplace roared to life once more.

A deep, resonant, and incredibly authoritative voice echoed from the grate.

”Albus? Amelia? Permission to enter.”

”Granted, Kingsley,” Dumbledore answered, stepping forward.

Orion turned toward the fire, his hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of his Hawthorn wand. The Ministry hit squad had arrived.

The battle for the Chamber of Secrets was no longer a schoolyard mystery. It was a full-scale magical operation.