Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The Great Hall was a sea of green and silver as the student body gathered for the Leaving Feast. The atmosphere was a potent mix of exhaustion and exhilaration, the heavy dread of the petrifications entirely washed away by the successful conclusion of the exams and the promise of summer.

Orion sat comfortably at the Slytherin table, a plate of perfectly roasted lamb before him. The mood around him was buoyant. Draco was currently attempting to calculate his likely grades, predicting ’Outstandings’ in everything except perhaps History of Magic, which he claimed was ”biased against purebloods.”

As the plates magically cleared themselves, leaving the polished golden tables bare, a hush fell over the hall.

Albus Dumbledore rose slowly from his throne at the High Table. He wore robes of a deep, celebratory crimson, his silver beard gleaming in the candlelight. He looked out over the sea of faces, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

”Another year draws to a close,” Dumbledore’s voice resonated, warm and clear, reaching every corner of the vast room. ”And what a year it has been. We have faced challenges that tested the very foundations of this school, and we have come out stronger for it.”

He offered a reassuring smile toward the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, where the recently un-petrified students sat looking slightly bewildered but healthy.

”Before we part ways for the summer, we must address the matter of the House Cup,” Dumbledore announced.

The tension in the hall spiked. Draco leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table.

”This year, every house has worked diligently,” Dumbledore continued, raising a hand toward the massive hourglasses on the wall behind him. ”In fourth place, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and seventy points. In third, Hufflepuff, with four hundred and fifty-two. In second, Gryffindor, with four hundred and eighty. And in first place... Slytherin, with five hundred and twenty points.”

A loud, triumphant cheer erupted from the Slytherin table. Draco pumped his fist in the air, while Pansy clapped excitedly. The margin wasn’t the humiliating 300-point chasm Orion had engineered last year, but it was still a solid, comfortable victory.

Dumbledore waited patiently for the noise to subside. He held up a single, long finger.

”However,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling dangerously. ”There are still last-minute points I would like to award.”

The cheering died instantly. A collective groan, soft but audible, rippled through the Slytherin ranks. Draco went pale.

Here we go, Orion thought, leaning back and crossing his arms. The Dumbledore Special.

”As we all know,” Dumbledore spoke gravely, the twinkle fading, ”this year, the Ministry of Magic and the Hogwarts staff faced off against a terrible threat hidden within the castle—the Basilisk of Salazar Slytherin. The beast was slain, and the castle secured.”

He looked out over the hushed students.

”While the Heir of Slytherin remains unidentified, we can safely assume that without his weapon, he has fled, leaving with no further options to cause harm. Furthermore, the students who were tragically petrified have been fully restored to us, thanks entirely to the tireless, masterful efforts of Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey.”

Applause broke out across the hall for the two witches, who beamed and waved from the High Table.

”Throughout this crisis,” Dumbledore continued when the clapping ceased, ”we received invaluable assistance from the Ministry. However... there were two students without whose direct intervention, the Chamber of Secrets might never have been found, nor opened.”

He looked directly at the Gryffindor table, then slowly turned his gaze to the Slytherin table.

”For exceptional courage, presence of mind, and invaluable assistance in the face of mortal peril,” Dumbledore’s voice echoed powerfully, ”the school has decided to award two hundred points each... to Mr. Harry Potter, and Mr. Orion Malfoy.”

The Great Hall exploded.

It wasn’t just a cheer; it was a cacophony of sheer, unadulterated shock.

”Two hundred points?!” Draco shrieked, practically leaping onto the bench. ”Two hundred?!”

The hourglasses behind Dumbledore surged violently. The Gryffindor rubies climbed rapidly, shooting far from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, settling at a massive 680 points.

But the Slytherin emeralds climbed just as fast. The green jewels filled the upper chamber, settling definitively at 720.

”Which means,” Dumbledore called out over the din, a massive, genuine smile breaking across his face, ”that Slytherin House retains the House Cup!”

The Slytherin table erupted into absolute pandemonium. For the first time in recent memory, the applause wasn’t localized. The Gryffindor table, fueled by the massive 200-point injection, was cheering almost as loudly.

It was a bizarre, unprecedented scene. Lions and Snakes, cheering simultaneously for their respective champions.

”Furthermore,” Dumbledore raised his hands, demanding silence one final time. ”In recognition of their historic contributions, both Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy shall receive the Special Award for Services to the School, to be permanently displayed in the trophy room.”

Orion sat amidst the roaring, celebrating Slytherins, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

He played it perfectly, Orion analyzed, looking up at the Headmaster. He rewarded his Golden Boy, but he recognized the Slytherin too. He maintained the balance.

It was a masterclass in political arbitration. Dumbledore had avoided the accusations of bias by rewarding both houses equally for the same event, securing Harry’s legacy as a hero while officially acknowledging Orion’s pivotal role.

He caught Dumbledore’s eye across the hall. Dumbledore was smiling at jubiliant atmosphere in the hall.

”You got a trophy,” Sparkle whispered in his ear, her digital voice vibrating with amusement. ”You are officially, permanently recognized as a hero of Hogwarts. Lucius is going to frame that plaque and hang it over his bed.”

”It provides excellent cover for next year,” Orion replied internally, his smile widening. ”No one suspects the student with the ’Services to the School’ award of causing widespread, unmitigated chaos.”

He looked around the Great Hall, soaking in the energy, the noise, the sheer, undeniable reality of his victory.

The Second Year was over.

”Tomorrow morning,” Orion whispered to himself as the feast concluded and the students began to file out toward their dormitories. ”It is back to Malfoy Manor.”