Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The dungeons were quiet, save for the rhythmic, sloshing sound of the Black Lake against the windows. Most of Slytherin House was already asleep, exhausted by the sheer, adrenaline-fueled drama of the dinner feast.

Orion, however, was wide awake. He sat fully dressed on his bed, the velvet curtains drawn back, his hands resting lightly on a copy of Advanced Charms. He wasn’t reading. He was waiting.

CRACK.

The heavy oak door of the second-year dormitory swung open.

Severus Snape stood in the doorway, his silhouette a dark, imposing void against the dim corridor light. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

Orion closed his book, stood up smoothly, and followed his Head of House into the corridor.

They walked in silence through the damp, cold passages, ascending the stairs toward the Headmaster’s tower. The silence wasn’t the hostile, angry quiet of a punishment; it was the resigned, heavy quiet of a routine.

”You know,” Snape finally murmured, his voice a low, dry rasp that barely disturbed the air, ”I am going to officially stop trying to tell you to stay out of trouble.”

Orion glanced sideways at the Potions Master. ”Giving up so easily, Uncle Sev?”

”Accepting reality,” Snape corrected flatly, not breaking his stride. ”Because clearly, you have decided to make the Headmaster’s office your second dormitory.”

Orion offered a faint, unapologetic smirk. ”Who knows? Perhaps someday I will simply take over the lease permanently. ’Headmaster Malfoy’ has a certain... authoritative ring to it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Snape let out a short, sharp scoff that sounded like tearing parchment. ”Heaven help this school if that day ever comes.”

They reached the gargoyle. Snape gave the password, and they rode the spiral staircase to the top.

The office was fully lit, the fire roaring against the midnight chill. Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking incredibly weary. To his right sat Professor McGonagall, her lips pressed into a thin line of profound irritation. Pacing near the fireplace, was Amelia Bones.

”Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore greeted him softly, gesturing to the empty chair opposite the desk. ”Please. Sit.”

Orion took the seat, his posture relaxed and attentive. Snape moved to his customary spot in the shadows, crossing his arms and watching the proceedings with cynical detachment.

Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk, peering over his half-moon spectacles. The twinkle was entirely absent from his blue eyes.

”Sigh,” Dumbledore let out a long, slow breath. ”Was such theatre truly necessary, Orion?”

Orion didn’t feign ignorance. The time for pretending to be a bystander was over. He met Dumbledore’s gaze with calm, respectful confidence.

”I am surprised that you managed to identify me as the orchestrator so quickly, Headmaster,” Orion replied smoothly. ”I believed the illusion was quite convincing.”

”It was a masterful piece of Charms work and auditory manipulation,” Dumbledore conceded. ”However, there are only two other individuals in this castle who consistently employ theatrical illusions for public disruption: Fred and George Weasley.”

Dumbledore smiled faintly. ”And I assure you, the expressions of absolute, bewildered shock on their faces during the projection made it quite clear they had no idea what was happening. That leaves only one other student who has subsequently, and consistently, been a central figure in every major, anomalous event in this school for the past two years.”

Orion mumbled, adopting a tone of mild grievance. ”You say that as if I am the one instigating these events, Headmaster. I assure you, I was not the one who forced Professor Lockhart to steal other people’s life work and wipe their memories.”

Amelia Bones stopped pacing and turned to face him, her monocle glinting sharply in the firelight.

”Gilderoy Lockhart is currently in Ministry custody, Mr. Malfoy,” Amelia stated, her voice brisk and professional. ”He is being held in a secure holding cell at the DMLE. He is not allowed visitors, and he has been denied immediate access to his legal counsel.”

McGonagall frowned. ”Is that standard procedure, Amelia?”

”For an Order of Merlin recipient to be publicly accused of habitual, unauthorized use of the Obliviation spell? Yes,” Amelia answered grimly. ”Memory Charms are incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. We cannot risk him getting close to anyone at this point. If he is allowed to speak unmonitored, he could attempt to wipe the minds of the arresting officers or his own lawyers to construct a false narrative.”

Amelia turned her sharp gaze back to Orion.

”Which brings me to you, Mr. Malfoy,” she said sternly. ”Why did you create that projection? Why make such falsified, public accusations against a decorated author and a Hogwarts Professor instead of bringing your suspicions directly to the authorities?”

Orion didn’t flinch. He leaned back slightly in his chair, resting his hands on the armrests.

”I must point out, Madam Bones,” Orion said calmly, his tone precise and analytical, ”that I have not made any official accusations against Gilderoy Lockhart. The projection you witnessed was merely a memory—a memory showing him, speaking his own words. You simply think I am making an accusation because I provided the venue for his confession.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. ”Semantics, Mr. Malfoy. You engineered a public scandal.”

”Secondly,” Orion continued, ignoring the interruption, ”are they really ’falsified’ accusations if they eventually turn out to be the absolute truth?”

He looked from Amelia to Dumbledore.

”I am well aware of the laws governing Memory Charms, Madam Bones,” Orion stated, his voice ringing with quiet authority. ”I know that memories are often considered inadmissible in court because they can be tampered with. Which is why I didn’t simply hand you a vial. I forced his hand publicly.”

Orion smiled, a cold, calculating expression.

”You said he demanded his lawyers earlier today. That means he is refusing the Veritaserum interrogation. The more he denies the use of Veritaserum to clear his name, the more problematic he makes his own defense. Innocent men do not fear the truth serum when their entire career is on the line. He is literally digging his own grave right now in a Ministry holding cell.”

He spread his hands in a gesture of pure innocence.

”And I have not even picked up a spade. I merely cast a Lumos on the patch of dirt where he was standing.”

Silence descended on the office.

McGonagall looked at the twelve-year-old boy, a mixture of horror and profound, reluctant respect warring on her face. Snape let out a quiet, dark snort from the corner, thoroughly enjoying the rhetorical dismantling of the Ministry official.

Amelia Bones stared at Orion for a long moment. She saw the sheer, unadulterated political genius in the boy’s strategy. He hadn’t broken a single law. He hadn’t cast a curse. He had simply used an illusion to force a guilty man to act guilty in front of the entire magical law enforcement agency.

Amelia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The headache from the Chamber of Secrets had barely faded, and now she had to deal with the fallout of a fraudulent celebrity, an Order of Merlin holder, to boot.

”I will keep you informed of the investigation’s progress, Albus,” Amelia said wearily, turning back to the Headmaster. ”As Lockhart is still technically a member of your staff, you have a right to know.”

”Thank you, Amelia,” Dumbledore nodded. ”I suspect I shall need to begin the search for yet another Defense teacher sooner rather than later.”

”It is an annual tradition anyway,” Amelia muttered, moving toward the fireplace.

She grabbed a handful of Floo powder, but before she threw it into the grate, she paused. She turned back one last time, fixing her monocled gaze firmly on the young Slytherin sitting in the armchair.

”Mr. Malfoy,” Amelia said, her voice lacking its earlier harshness, replaced by a tone of genuine, exhausted advice.

”Yes, Madam Bones?”

”The next time you have something like this in your mind,” Amelia instructed, pointing a stern finger at him. ”Something that involves exposing high-profile frauds, orchestrating public scandals, or otherwise creating a massive, throbbing headache for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement...”

She let out a long breath.

”...it would be best if you run it by the adults first. Be it the Headmaster, your professors, or even me directly. We prefer to plan our migraines in advance.”

Orion simply smiled. It was a bright, perfectly polite, entirely non-committal smile.

”I will certainly take that under advisement, Madam Bones,” Orion promised smoothly.

Amelia snorted, clearly doubting his sincerity, and threw the powder into the flames. With a roar of green fire, the Head of the DMLE vanished back to London, leaving Orion alone with the Hogwarts faculty.