Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The transition from February into March at Hogwarts was usually a gradual thawing of the grounds, marked by the cautious blooming of snowdrops near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. For Orion Malfoy, the arrival of spring signaled the culmination of a highly lucrative business transaction.

He sat in the Slytherin common room on a damp Tuesday evening, meticulously writing new spell notes to practice later on in his leather-bound journal. The green fire crackled softly in the grate, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone floor.

The heavy, groaning sound of the common room door sliding open broke his concentration.

Professor Severus Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing with their customary, dramatic flair. The few students loitering near the entrance immediately shrank back, silencing their conversations.

Snape ignored them all. His dark, penetrating eyes swept the room and locked onto Orion, seated alone in a high-backed armchair.

With a curt gesture of his hand, Snape signaled Orion to follow him.

Orion closed his journal, slid his quill into his pocket, and stood up smoothly. He followed his Head of House out of the common room and down the torch-lit corridor, the silence between them thick with professional understanding.

They reached Snape’s office. The door clicked shut behind them, and Snape turned to face his godson, his expression a mask of grim satisfaction.

”The Ministry harvesting team has concluded their primary extraction of the Basilisk specimen, Orion,” Snape announced, his voice a low, silky hum that echoed slightly among the pickled toads and floating brains lining the shelves. ”And the subsequent bureaucratic squabbling over the allocation of the remains has finally been resolved to my... acceptable standards.”

Orion raised an eyebrow, a polite smile touching his lips. ”I trust the negotiations were vigorous, Professor?”

”Madam Bones is a formidable adversary,” Snape conceded softly. ”But even she cannot argue with the sheer volume of material a sixty-foot serpent provides. The school’s apothecaries are adequately stocked for the next few decades.”

Snape stepped behind his desk, leaning forward on his hands.

”As for your personal requisition,” Snape continued, his black eyes glinting in the dim light. ”I have secured your requested portion of the hide. A substantial, flawless section of the ventral scales, impervious to most known hexes. And...”

He paused, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his thin lips.

”...I saw fit to secure two large, intact rib bones, rather than the single one you requested. Why settle for one carving medium when the Ministry is so eagerly attempting to placate the Malfoy name?”

Orion let out a short, genuine bark of laughter. ”Why indeed, Uncle Sev? Your foresight is, as always, unparalleled. I assume these items are not currently residing in my dormitory?”

”They are not,” Snape stated firmly. ”They are highly regulated, Class XXXXX magical materials. I personally transported them via the Floo Network to Malfoy Manor this afternoon. They are currently secured within the manor’s local storage vault, awaiting your return for the summer.”

”Excellent,” Orion nodded approvingly, the image of his dark workspace at home coming to mind. He could already picture the intricate, deadly beauty of a Basilisk-bone statue guarding his desk.

”Furthermore,” Snape added, his tone returning to its usual, dry sneer. ”The Ministry has also allocated a monetary compensation for your ’active participation’ in the threat neutralization. A rather significant sum of Galleons has been deposited directly into the primary Malfoy vault at Gringotts.”

Orion snorted, shaking his head slowly in profound, aristocratic exasperation.

”A deposit into the main vault,” Orion muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against a wooden cabinet. ”They might as well have thrown a bucket of water into the Black Lake. Between Father’s political bribes, his ’anonymous’ donations, and the sheer, staggering volume of gold already sitting in there... who would even realize the balance had increased? It’s a drop in an ocean.”

He sighed theatrically, though his eyes shone with a cold, calculating satisfaction.

”Whatever the Ministry’s attempt at a payoff, I suppose it’s the thought that counts,” Orion concluded smoothly. He offered a deep, respectful bow to the Potions Master. ”Thank you, Uncle Sev. Your efforts on my behalf are deeply appreciated.”

Snape offered a curt nod, his expression hardening. ”Do not let this sudden influx of wealth and rare materials distract you from your studies, Orion. The end-of-year examinations approach, and I expect nothing less than absolute perfection.”

”Of course, Professor. Good evening.”

Orion exited the office, the heavy oak door sealing the transaction. He walked back to the dungeons, his mind already spinning with the possibilities of Basilisk-hide armor and bone-carved warding foci.

The second major resolution of the week arrived not in the quiet shadows of the dungeons, but in the muddy, chaotic expanse near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

It was late Friday afternoon. The sky was a bruised, heavy purple, threatening rain. Orion had ventured out of the castle, his thick winter cloak wrapped tightly against the wind, intending to execute a quick, localized test of a newly modified Incendio near the pumpkin patch.

He didn’t make it to the patch.

As he approached Hagrid’s hut, the massive wooden door burst open with a resounding BANG.

”Orion!”

A voice like a landslide roared across the damp grass.

Before Orion could even draw his wand or formulate a polite greeting, a shadow the size of a small mountain fell over him. Rubeus Hagrid, moving with terrifying, earth-shaking speed, crossed the distance and enveloped the twelve-year-old Slytherin in a crushing, suffocating embrace that threatened to snap his spine.

”Mr. Hagrid,” Orion wheezed, his face buried somewhere in the tangle of a massive, heavily perfumed moleskin coat. ”I... require... oxygen.”

”Oh! Right! Sorry, sorry!” Hagrid boomed, hastily stepping back and dropping Orion back onto the muddy ground.

The half-giant was practically vibrating with a manic, overwhelming joy. His beetle-black eyes were shining with unshed tears, and his enormous beard was twitching as his mouth formed a smile so wide it looked painful.

”I got it, Orion!” Hagrid shouted, waving a crumpled, official-looking piece of heavy Ministry parchment in the air like a victory flag. ”I just got the owl from London! It’s official!”

Orion straightened his collar, taking a deep, restorative breath of the freezing air. He smoothed his robes, maintaining his aristocratic composure despite the near-death experience of the hug.

”The letter from the Ministry, I presume?” Orion asked, his voice calm and perfectly polite, though a genuine spark of warmth touched his blue eyes.

”Aye!” Hagrid nodded so hard his tangled hair flew wildly around his head. He shoved the parchment practically under Orion’s nose.

”They’re holdin’ a full, official hearin’ next week!” Hagrid explained, his voice thick with emotion, tears finally spilling over his cheeks and losing themselves in his beard. ”To completely, publicly absolve me of them false allegations from fifty years ago! They’re clearin’ my name, Orion!”

He wiped his eyes with a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth.

”And... and they’re grantin’ me my wand rights back,” Hagrid whispered, staring at the parchment as if it were made of solid gold. ”I can carry a wand again. Legally. No more hidin’ the pieces in a pink umbrella.”

”That is a monumental achievement, Mr. Hagrid,” Orion said smoothly, offering a small, respectful bow. ”It is a grave injustice corrected. You must be incredibly relieved.”

”Relieved ain’t the word fer it,” Hagrid sniffled loudly, beaming down at the boy. ”And that ain’t all! The letter says they’ll be allowin’ me to sit fer my O.W.L. exams whenever I feel ready! If I pass, I’ll have full, recognized rights within the Ministry! I won’t just be the Groundskeeper anymore... I’ll be a fully qualified wizard!”

”A title you have long deserved,” Orion noted, his tone entirely sincere. He had always found the Ministry’s treatment of Hagrid to be a staggering display of bureaucratic incompetence, even by their low standards.

Hagrid stared at the young Slytherin for a long moment, the sheer, overwhelming gratitude warring with his usual suspicion of the Malfoy name.

He slowly lowered the parchment, his expression turning incredibly soft and surprisingly perceptive.

”I know it was you, Orion,” Hagrid rumbled quietly, his deep voice carrying a profound, immovable certainty.

Orion didn’t blink. He maintained his mask of polite, aristocratic innocence. ”Know what was me, Mr. Hagrid?”

”The birds,” Hagrid said, gesturing with a massive thumb back toward his hut, where the faint, rhythmic clucking of several very healthy hens and the sudden, aggressive crow of a large rooster could be heard over the wind.

”The note didn’t have no name on it,” Hagrid continued, his dark eyes locking onto Orion’s blue ones. ”It just said it was a gift from a friend. But I ain’t that inattentive, Orion. I know who was askin’ questions about my flock. I know who was listenin’ when I talked about the empty coop.”

Hagrid stepped closer, the sheer physical mass of the man overwhelming, but his presence was entirely devoid of threat. It was pure, unadulterated loyalty.

”I know who put the pressure on the Minister down in that Chamber,” Hagrid whispered fiercely, a tear tracking through the dirt on his cheek. ”I know who stood up fer me when everyone else was busy lookin’ at the dead snake.”

Orion remained silent. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it. He simply held the half-giant’s gaze, allowing the unspoken truth to settle between them.

”I will take good care of ’em, Orion,” Hagrid promised, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. ”The roosters. And the hens. They’re the finest birds I’ve ever seen. And... and I won’t forget this. What you did.”

”I am merely a student with an interest in magical creatures, Mr. Hagrid,” Orion said finally, his voice smooth and enigmatic, offering a tiny, knowing smirk. ”I am glad to see your mornings are noisy again. And I wish you the best of luck with your O.W.L. preparations. If you ever require assistance with the theoretical aspects of Charms... you know where to find me. I may not be Professor Flitwick, but I have taught a few of my friends last year, so I can totally help.”

Hagrid let out a booming, watery laugh, wiping his face again. ”I might just take yeh up on that, Orion. I might just do that.”

Orion turned, wrapping his cloak tighter against the wind, and began the walk back up the muddy slope toward the castle.

”Well,” Sparkle’s voice hummed in his ear, a soft, satisfied digital vibration. ”You just secured the absolute, unwavering loyalty of a man who breeds acromantulas and tames three-headed dogs. Not a bad ally to have in your pocket.”

”Hagrid is a blunt instrument,” Orion corrected internally, his blue eyes fixed on the towering stone walls of Hogwarts. ”But a blunt instrument is incredibly useful when you need to smash through a locked door. And besides...”

He smiled, a genuine, warm expression that rarely graced his features.

”He deserves his wand. The Ministry owed him that much.”

Orion stepped into the Entrance Hall, the warmth of the castle enveloping him.

The second year was proving to be remarkably profitable.