Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The month of May unfurled over Hogwarts with a lazy, sun-drenched ease that felt almost surreal after the relentless tension of the winter. The grounds burst into vibrant green, the Black Lake thawed into a sparkling, inviting expanse, and the Giant Squid occasionally broke the surface to bask in the warmth.

For Orion Malfoy, the month was an exercise in deliberate, comfortable stagnation.

He had won the war. The Basilisk was dead, the Diary was secured, and the Ministry was still patting itself on the back for a job well done. He had earned his rest.

He spent his afternoons reading in the sunlit courtyards or practicing his newly upgraded Mind Arts, slipping into light, passive Legilimency trances to observe the surface thoughts of passing students (mostly complaints about homework or mundane teenage crushes).

His social circle had also shifted slightly.

He spent more time talking with Luna Lovegood in the corridors, much to the ongoing, baffled horror of his brother. Luna remained a refreshing anomaly—a girl who saw the world without the filter of pureblood politics or Gryffindor heroics.

Daphne Greengrass, too, had become a more permanent fixture in his orbit. The ”Ice Queen” was noticeably warmer toward him, though she maintained her pristine facade with everyone else.

It was during one of these relaxed afternoons in the common room, midway through May, that Professor Snape swept in, his arms laden with crisp, official-looking parchment.

”Second-years,” Snape drawled, his voice cutting through the chatter. ”Collect your elective forms. You are required to select at least two additional subjects to pursue in your third year. Choose wisely. These decisions will dictate your O.W.L. trajectory and, consequently, your career prospects. Do not select subjects based on what your friends are taking, or what you believe will be ’easy’. I assure you, none of them are.”

He handed a form to Orion, fixing him with a brief, pointed look that clearly communicated an expectation of academic rigor.

Orion looked down at the list.

Arithmancy.

Care of Magical Creatures.

Divination.

Muggle Studies.

Study of Ancient Runes.

Orion didn’t hesitate. He ticked the box next to Study of Ancient Runes immediately. He had already spent the better part of the year translating the damaged sequences on the Vanishing Cabinet; formal instruction would only accelerate his mastery.

He hovered his quill over Arithmancy. He was naturally gifted at the mathematics of magic, and it was a highly respected, difficult subject. It was the logical choice for a prodigy.

He skipped it.

Instead, his quill descended and ticked the box next to Care of Magical Creatures.

”Wait,” Daphne Greengrass murmured, leaning over from the adjacent sofa to inspect his form. She blinked, her ice-blue eyes reflecting genuine surprise. ”Care of Magical Creatures? Orion, you?”

Draco, who had just loudly announced his intention to take Care of Magical Creatures purely because he heard they occasionally worked outdoors, looked equally shocked.

”You’re skipping Arithmancy?” Daphne pressed, frowning. ”But you’ve been doing third-year Arithmancy equations in the common room since October. Why take a class that involves mucking out stalls and getting bitten by Flobberworms?”

”Arithmancy is a solitary pursuit, Daphne,” Orion replied smoothly, capping his inkwell. ”I can learn the equations from a textbook. I do not need a professor to dictate a chalkboard to me.”

He reached into the expanded pocket of his robes.

”Care of Magical Creatures, however, requires practical, hands-on experience that cannot be replicated in a library.”

He pulled his hand out, revealing a squirming, black, furry Niffler.

Robin blinked against the sudden light, let out a small squeak, and immediately zeroed in on the glittering sapphire earrings dangling from Daphne’s ears.

”SHINY!” Robin chirped telepathically, making a desperate, grasping motion toward the girl.

Orion casually pinned the Niffler’s arms to his sides with two fingers.

”Look at this,” Orion said, holding the struggling, gold-hungry creature up to Daphne. ”Look at this incredibly focused, dorky little face, and tell me you don’t find magical creatures fascinating.”

Daphne stared at the Niffler. She leaned back slightly, protecting her earrings, but a faint, amused smile broke through her icy facade.

”It is a menace, Orion,” Daphne said.

”It is an apex predator of the local economy,” Orion corrected affectionately, stuffing the protesting Robin back into his pocket. ”And learning how to manage, understand, and perhaps weaponize creatures like him is a skill set I find highly valuable. Besides... I heard a rumor that Hagrid might be taking over the position next year.”

Draco groaned loudly. ”That oaf? Teaching? It’ll be a disaster.”

”It will be an education,” Orion smiled.

By the end of May, the oppressive gloom that had lingered since Halloween was finally, officially lifted.

Madam Pomfrey, utilizing the mature Mandrakes provided by Professor Sprout, successfully brewed the Restorative Draught.

The news spread like wildfire at breakfast. The petrified victims—Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Mrs. Norris, and Nearly Headless Nick—were awake and fully restored.

”How exactly do you administer a potion to a ghost?” Orion wondered aloud, watching a translucent, surprisingly cheerful Nearly Headless Nick float past the Slytherin table. ”Do they spray it on him like perfume?”

”Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Pansy shuddered.

The sight of the restored students brought a profound, soothing relief to the castle. The Hufflepuffs cheered for Justin, and the Gryffindors welcomed Colin back (though Harry looked slightly pained when the boy immediately produced his new camera).

The only downside, Orion noted with a flicker of genuine sympathy, was the academic reality facing the victims.

”They missed six months of lectures,” Orion mused, looking at Colin, who was currently asking Ron what a ’Levitation Charm’ was. ”How exactly are they supposed to study for the upcoming exams? They are functionally still in November. Also, asking that question to Weasley is a bad decision.”

”Maybe Dumbledore will give them a pass?” Sparkle suggested.

”Unlikely,” Orion muttered. ”The Ministry requires documented academic progression. They’re going to have to cram half a year of magic into two weeks.”

He shook his head. ”I almost feel sorry for them.”

With the start of June came the crushing, inevitable reality of Final Exams.

The castle descended into a frantic silence. The library was packed to the gills, and the common rooms were littered with discarded notes and empty inkwells.

Orion approached the exams with the same calm, methodical precision he approached everything else. He didn’t cram. He didn’t panic. He simply executed.

He knew, with absolute certainty, that he was going to receive ’Outstanding’ marks across the board. The written exams were a breeze, his Level 2 Mind Arts allowing him perfect, organized recall of every textbook he had devoured over the year.

Finally, the grueling week concluded. The quills were downed, the cauldrons cleaned, and the student body was released into the warm, golden afternoon of the final weekend.

The Leaving Feast was scheduled.

Orion stood in his dormitory, the green curtains of his bed pulled back. The room was empty; Draco had already sprinted down to the common room to start boasting about his finished practicals.

”Time to pack up, Robin,” Orion announced.

He approached the bedside table and carefully picked up the heavy, rock-shaped burrow. He waved his wand, shrinking the habitat down to the size of a paperweight, and placed it securely inside his trunk.

He packed his robes, his books, and his meticulously organized notes.

Finally, he patted his pocket.

Robin the Niffler poked his head out, letting out a sleepy chirp.

”Going home?” Robin asked.

”Going home,” Orion confirmed, scratching the creature behind the ears. ”Back to the peacocks and the pool.”