Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The morning sun filtered through the murky depths of the Black Lake, casting rippling, greenish light across the stone floor of the Slytherin common room.

Orion sank deeply into his favorite high-backed leather armchair, rubbing his temples with a quiet, profound sigh. He watched the chaotic, noisy spectacle unfolding in the center of the room with a mixture of immense satisfaction and mild annoyance.

The plan was working flawlessly.

Draco Malfoy was standing atop a sturdy wooden coffee table, entirely commanding the attention of the surrounding Slytherins. He was brandishing his copy of the Daily Prophet like a broadsword, pointing emphatically at the moving photograph of Cornelius Fudge and the dead Basilisk.

”I’m telling you, it was absolutely massive!” Draco yelled over the excited chatter of third and fourth-years, practically glowing with borrowed glory. ”Sixty feet long, easy! The scales were as thick as dragon hide, and the fangs... the fangs were longer than my arm! You could literally smell the venom sizzling on the stone!”

Pansy Parkinson was gazing up at him with wide, adoring eyes. ”And you were really there, Draco? In the actual Chamber of Secrets?”

”Of course I was!” Draco puffed out his chest, looking immensely proud. ”The photographer just missed me. I was standing just out of frame, helping the Ministry secure the perimeter. I saw the whole thing!”

Crabbe and Goyle nodded vigorously from the sidelines, completely buying into Draco’s exaggerated role as a vital component of the tactical operation.

Orion sighed again, leaning his head back against the leather.

”I must admit, Sparkle,” Orion murmured internally, ”bringing Draco was undeniably the greatest strategic decision of my academic career. He is a localized black hole for attention.”

”He’s definitely soaking up the aggro,” Sparkle agreed, her interface humming with amusement. ”Look at them. They don’t even care that you were the one who actually fought Potter and found the door. They’re entirely captivated by his dramatic reenactment of the snake’s dental hygiene.”

”It’s perfect,” Orion smiled faintly. ”Let him be the public face of the expedition. I prefer the quiet.”

The quiet, however, was abruptly shattered.

The heavy stone door of the common room ground open with a resounding scrape.

Professor Severus Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing ominously. His dark eyes swept over the crowded, noisy room, instantly silencing the chatter. He ignored the group gathered around Draco and locked his gaze directly onto Orion, lounging in the corner.

”Malfoy,” Snape’s voice cut through the sudden silence like a whip.

Orion sat up straight, his relaxed posture vanishing instantly. He recognized the tone. It wasn’t the usual, sneering reprimand; it was tight, urgent, and laced with a profound lack of patience.

”Sir?” Orion asked politely.

Snape turned his head slightly, glaring at Draco, who had frozen on top of the coffee table.

”Get down from there, Draco, before you break your neck and save me the trouble of strangling you,” Snape snapped. He looked back at Orion. ”Your parents have arrived via the Floo Network. They are currently in my office. And they wish to speak with you. Both of you.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ”Move it.”

Draco scrambled off the table, the color draining slightly from his face at the mention of his parents. Orion stood up smoothly, setting his teacup down and smoothing his robes.

They followed their Head of House out of the common room and down the damp, torch-lit corridor toward Snape’s private office.

”What do they want?” Draco whispered frantically to Orion as they walked. ”Is Father angry about the newspaper?”

”I imagine Mother is more concerned than Father,” Orion replied calmly. ”Just let me do the talking.”

Snape pushed open the heavy oak door to his office.

The room was dimly lit, smelling strongly of preserved specimens and bitter roots. Standing before the unlit hearth, looking entirely out of place amidst the pickled toads, were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

The moment the door clicked shut, Narcissa moved.

She didn’t offer a polite, pureblood greeting. She crossed the room in three swift strides, her elegant composure completely fractured.

”Orion! Draco!”

She pulled them both into a crushing, desperate embrace. Her hands grasped their shoulders tightly, her usually immaculate blonde hair slightly askew. She smelled of expensive perfume and raw, maternal panic.

”My boys,” Narcissa breathed into Orion’s hair, her voice trembling. ”Are you hurt? Are you completely certain you are uninjured?”

”We are perfectly fine, Mother,” Orion said, patting her back awkwardly, exchanging a look with Draco over her shoulder. ”Not a scratch on us.”

Narcissa pulled back, holding them at arm’s length, her pale blue eyes blazing with a mixture of profound relief and furious indignation. She looked from her sons to her husband, who was standing rigidly near Snape’s desk, gripping his silver cane tightly.

”Not a scratch,” Narcissa repeated, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. She turned her full, terrifying attention to Orion. ”Neither of you gave us any intimation of this. No owl. No warning. I had to read about my twelve-year-old son dueling Harry Potter in a flooded bathroom and descending into a monster’s lair... in the morning edition of the Daily Prophet!”

”I apologize, Mother,” Orion said smoothly, adopting a look of innocent confusion. ”I thought Father knew of this.”

He turned his gaze toward Lucius, tilting his head slightly.

”The Minister of Magic was present for the entire operation last night. He specifically stated that he had left Father to handle the Ministry’s affairs in his stead while he came to Hogwarts. I naturally assumed Minister Fudge would have briefed his most trusted advisor regarding a Class XXXXX deployment involving his own sons.”

Narcissa spun around, her glare locking onto Lucius with the intensity of a Basilisk.

Lucius stiffened. He looked at his wife, then at Orion, clearly caught between the desire to maintain his authoritative facade and the very real terror of his wife’s wrath.

”It was... a highly classified Ministry operation, Narcissa,” Lucius offered stiffly, adjusting his collar, his voice lacking its usual smooth arrogance. ”As I was managing the Minister’s office, I was explicitly instructed not to discuss the ongoing details with anyone until the threat was neutralized.”

Narcissa’s glare intensified, her eyes narrowing to slits. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Lucius cleared his throat nervously and snapped his mouth shut, deciding that further justification was strategically unsound. He gripped his cane tighter and looked away, effectively cowed.

Narcissa turned back to Orion, her expression softening marginally, though the anger remained.

”You should not have gotten involved in this, Orion,” Narcissa said firmly, placing a hand on his cheek. ”A Basilisk. It is madness. It is not your responsibility to hunt monsters.”

”I did not hunt it, Mother,” Orion corrected gently, stepping back slightly. ”I identified it. And I brought the Ministry to it.”

He met her gaze squarely, his own blue eyes cold and pragmatic.

”A massive, lethal Basilisk was slithering through the plumbing of the school where I sleep, Mother,” Orion stated, his voice ringing with absolute, chilling logic. ”It had already petrified three victims, two students and a cat. Perhaps, if we can consider it as well, a ghost was a victim too. Involving myself, securing the intelligence, and ensuring the Ministry eradicated the threat... was the best, most efficient course of action.”

He paused, letting the reality of the danger sink in.

”It was vastly preferable,” Orion added softly, ”to waiting in my dormitory and getting turned into a statue. Or worse, ending up dead.”

From the corner of his eye, Orion caught a subtle, incredibly telling movement.

Lucius Malfoy flinched.

It was a tiny, almost imperceptible jerk of his shoulders, quickly masked by a rigid tightening of his posture, but Orion saw it clearly.

Ah, Orion thought, his mind racing as he filed the reaction away.

Lucius was undoubtedly aware that the diary he had slipped to Ginny Weasley was the catalyst for the Chamber of Secrets opening. He knew a monster would be unleashed. He likely expected the attacks to target Muggle-borns, terrifying the school and discrediting Arthur Weasley in the process.

But, Orion deduced rapidly, watching his father’s pale face, he must not have known exactly what the monster was.

If Lucius had truly believed it was a beast that selectively targeted ’filth’, he wouldn’t have flinched at the mention of death. But a Basilisk? A Basilisk was an indiscriminate, apocalyptic killing machine. It didn’t care if the person looking into its eyes was a mudblood or the heir of a Sacred Twenty-Eight family. It killed anything that met its gaze.

Lucius Malfoy had just realized, with horrifying clarity, that his political maneuver with a dark artifact had nearly gotten his own sons killed by a giant snake.

Orion looked at his father, a cold, knowing smirk playing on his lips.

Checkmate, Father, Orion thought silently. You played with fire, and I just showed you the burn.

The silence in Snape’s office was thick and heavy, broken only by the bubbling of a potion on a distant desk, as the Malfoy family stood amidst the ruins of their secrets.