Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The painstaking, gruesome process of rendering a sixty-foot magical apex predator down to its component parts took the better part of an hour. The Ministry harvesting team operated with a grim, practiced efficiency that left little room for error or sentimentality.

Orion watched from a respectful distance as the massive, armored scales were systematically sheared from the underlying muscle, glowing dully in the wand-light. The venom sacs—the true prize of the operation—were extracted with a level of care usually reserved for unexploded ordnance, sealed within multiple layers of stasis charms before being placed into specialized, lead-lined cases.

I already have the purest samples, Orion thought smugly, feeling the phantom weight of the twelve crystal vials resting in his inventory grid. Let them have the leftovers.

As the final, massive segments of meat and bone were cleaved apart by coordinated Severing Charms, the harvesters began loading them into large, heavily reinforced wooden crates that had been magically expanded to hold the sheer volume of the carcass.

”We are ready for transport, Headmaster,” the lead harvester announced, wiping sweat from his brow.

Albus Dumbledore stepped forward, his Elder Wand drawn. He moved among the crates, tapping each one lightly. A faint, blue shimmer washed over the wood with every touch, a localized activation of ancient, complex ward magic.

”Portkeys,” Orion murmured to Draco, who was watching the process with rapt attention. ”Pre-applied, but dormant until the Headmaster authorizes them. Only Dumbledore can punch a hole in Hogwarts’ anti-transport wards. It’s the ultimate bottleneck of power.”

”Brilliant,” Draco breathed, completely missing the restrictive implications of the Headmaster’s control. ”I wish Father had that kind of power.”

”He has gold, Draco,” Orion corrected dryly. ”It opens different doors.”

With a final, synchronized flare of blue light, the heavy crates vanished from the damp flagstones of the Chamber, whisked away to secure Ministry processing facilities in London. The massive cavern suddenly felt incredibly empty, the towering statue of Salazar Slytherin staring blankly down at a floor stained dark with blood and venom.

”The operation is concluded,” Amelia Bones declared, her voice echoing in the sudden silence. She turned to the Hogwarts faculty. ”Albus. Minerva. Severus. A successful operation. We will be in touch regarding the final tally of the harvest and your respective shares.”

”Thank you, Amelia,” Dumbledore inclined his head.

The procession began the long, winding ascent back up the black marble staircase. The adrenaline that had fueled their descent was entirely gone, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

They breached the surface, stepping out of the gaping pipe and back onto the wet, cracked tiles of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. The air here felt strangely fresh compared to the ancient musk of the Chamber below.

Harry Potter, looking pale and thoroughly drained, stepped up to the central pillar of sinks. He didn’t need prompting this time. He stared at the copper snake, his green eyes dull.

”Close,” Harry hissed.

The grinding groan of stone echoed again as the stairs retracted, the pipe sealing shut, and the ornate pillar of sinks sliding perfectly back into place, hiding the legend of Slytherin once more.

”I believe,” Professor Snape drawled, his black eyes sweeping over the exhausted group of Gryffindors and the two remarkably pristine Slytherins, ”that concludes our business in this wretched lavatory.”

He turned to Dumbledore. ”Headmaster. I shall escort my charges back to their dormitory, and then retire to my own chambers. I trust you can manage the... emotional fallout of your lions without my assistance.”

Dumbledore smiled faintly, ignoring the barb. ”Of course, Severus. Goodnight. And thank you, Orion. Draco.”

”Goodnight, Headmaster,” Orion said politely.

”Goodnight!” Draco puffed his chest out, clearly feeling important for simply having been present.

They left the bathroom, leaving the Golden Trio and the Gryffindor Head of House to their inevitable, emotional debriefing.

The walk back to the dungeons was brisk. Snape didn’t speak a single word until they reached the blank stretch of stone wall that concealed the Slytherin entrance.

He stopped, turning his dark, penetrating gaze onto the twins.

”Go straight to bed,” Snape commanded softly. ”Do not engage in idle gossip. Do not attempt to leverage tonight’s events for petty squabbles. If I hear that either of you has caused a disruption before breakfast tomorrow...”

He didn’t finish the threat. He didn’t need to.

”Understood, Professor,” Orion nodded.

Snape offered a curt nod in return and swept past them, his black cloak billowing as he headed further down the corridor toward his office and the promise of solitude.

Orion murmured the password, and the heavy stone door ground open.

The moment they stepped over the threshold, the quiet of the corridor was shattered by a wall of sound.

The Slytherin common room was packed. It was well past curfew, but not a single student had gone to bed. They were gathered around the green flames of the fireplace, buzzing with frantic, anxious energy. The rumors of the Ministry raid and the reports of a monster had kept them all awake.

When the stone door opened and the Malfoy twins walked in, the noise cut off instantly, replaced by a collective, breathless gasp.

”Draco! Orion!” Pansy Parkinson shrieked, breaking the silence as she practically threw herself across the room.

The entire House surged forward, surrounding them like a pack of starving wolves presented with fresh meat.

”Is it true?” a fifth-year demanded.

”Did you go down there?” Theodore Nott asked, his usually calm demeanor fractured by intense curiosity.

”What was it?! Was it really a dragon?!” Crabbe grunted, shoving his way to the front.

Draco Malfoy, who had been simmering with suppressed excitement for the last two hours, absolutely erupted. The fatigue of the late hour vanished instantly, replaced by the intoxicating, addictive high of absolute, undivided attention.

”You wouldn’t believe it!” Draco shouted, holding his hands up dramatically to command the room. ”It wasn’t a dragon! It was a Basilisk! A huge snake! Sixty feet long! Fangs the size of my leg! We went right down into Salazar Slytherin’s actual, hidden lair with the Minister of Magic!”

The common room exploded into a cacophony of gasps, questions, and demands for details.

Orion stood near the edge of the mob for exactly three seconds.

He watched Draco launch into a highly embellished, wildly exaggerated retelling of the descent, complete with hand gestures illustrating the size of the beast and the ’terror’ of the Ministry Aurors.

Perfect, Orion thought, a small, satisfied smirk touching his lips as the crowd pressed closer to his brother, completely ignoring him. My brother is going to be perfect distraction for the coming days.

Without a word, Orion took a slow, deliberate step backward. Then another.

He slipped out of the crushing throng of students, melting into the darker shadows near the tapestries lining the walls. He moved silently, his dragon-hide boots making no sound on the stone floor, until he reached the heavy oak door of the second-year boys’ dormitory.

He pushed it open, slipped inside, and shut the chaos of the common room behind him.

The dormitory was blissfully, perfectly silent.

Orion walked over to his four-poster bed and collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh. He didn’t bother changing out of his dark, tactical robes just yet. He was starving, exhausted, and his mind was whirring with the implications of the new items in his Inventory.

”Dobby,” Orion murmured into the quiet room.

CRACK.

The house-elf appeared instantly, looking bright-eyed and eager.

”Master Orion is back!” Dobby squeaked happily. ”Dobby is so glad!”

”I am intact, Dobby, thank you,” Orion smiled tiredly. ”However, I have absolutely no interest in going to the kitchens, or even navigating that mob out there, for dinner. Could you please procure something substantial from the kitchens? Roast beef, perhaps. And a large pot of strong tea.”

”Dobby will bring a feast for the conquering Master!” The elf gave a nod and vanished.

Orion sat up, pulling the heavy green velvet curtains around his bed to create his usual, secure perimeter. He cast a quick, silent Silencio to ensure total privacy.

He leaned back against the headboard, the adrenaline finally, completely fading, leaving a sharp, crystalline focus in its wake.

”Sparkle,” Orion commanded softly, his blue eyes narrowing in the dim light. ”Come on out, we need to have a talk.”