Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The twilight deepened into true night as they stood near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The air grew brittle with cold, but the atmosphere around the ancient oaks was surprisingly peaceful.

Luna hummed a disjointed, wandering melody as she reached into her wicker basket. She tossed a limp ferret onto the frost-hardened grass.

A skeletal head materialized from the shadows, its pupil-less white eyes reflecting the pale moonlight. The Thestral snapped up the offering with a swift, efficient movement of its leathery jaws, the crunch of bone echoing sharply in the quiet woods.

Orion leaned against the trunk of a massive oak, watching the macabre picnic. He didn’t speak. He simply stood there in the moment, appreciating the silence. With Draco, silence was a vacuum waiting to be filled with complaints. With Luna, silence was a comfortable, shared space.

”Good throw, little one,” one of the Thestrals huffed, translating through Orion’s All-Speak. ”Much better than the apples. Though I still prefer the taste of badger.”

Orion kept his face neutral, though a faint smirk touched his lips.

When the basket was finally empty, Luna dusted off her hands, her radish earrings swaying gently. ”They have such hearty appetites,” she observed happily.

”They are large creatures, Luna,” Orion noted, pushing off the tree trunk. He checked his watch. ”And speaking of appetites, we should probably return to the castle. The evening feast must have started a half-hour ago, and I prefer my roast beef before it congeals.”

”Oh, yes,” Luna agreed, picking up the empty basket. ”Pudding waits for no one.”

They walked back up the sloping lawns toward the warm, inviting lights of Hogwarts. The castle loomed against the dark sky, a fortress of warmth and noise.

As they walked, Orion broke the comfortable silence. He had been meaning to check on this particular data point since September 1st.

”I had been intending to ask you, Luna,” Orion said, his voice dropping to a quieter, more serious register, ”about the train ride at the start of term. The incident with the Dementors. I was... occupied with my own compartment, but I wondered how they affected you. Are you alright now?”

He knew Luna’s history. He knew she had witnessed her mother’s death at a young age. Given the Dementors’ predatory nature regarding trauma, she should have been a prime target for their misery-inducing aura. He should have checked on her, but she had looked fine at the dinner table, so he had shelved it for later, trusting Luna’s strength and the fact that, according to canon, the dementors had not attacked anyone on the train, other than Potter.

Luna didn’t shudder at the mention of the creatures. She simply looked up at the cloudy night sky, her expression serene.

”They are misunderstood creatures, I think,” Luna said airily, her voice drifting on the cold wind. ”People say they suck out your soul, but they really just like to make us remember our loved ones.”

Orion blinked, entirely thrown by the interpretation. ”They force you to relive your worst memories, Luna. That is their nature.”

”It is unfortunate that we feel sadness due to those memories,” Luna countered softly, tilting her head. ”Because it is sadness, people fear them. When the Dementor came near our carriage, I remembered my mother. The day she left.”

She smiled, a small, incredibly poignant expression that lacked any bitterness.

”But then again,” Luna continued, ”I always remember her. Every day. The memory is already there. The Dementor didn’t show me anything new; it just made the memory a little bit sadder than usual. Like looking at a painting through a rainy window.”

Orion stared at her, genuinely staggered by her psychological resilience. While Harry Potter passed out from the trauma of his mother’s screams, Luna Lovegood simply accepted the grief as a daily companion, rendering the Dementor’s primary weapon entirely ineffective.

”You are a remarkably strong witch, Luna,” Orion said quietly, meaning every word. ”But as long as you are safe, that is all that matters.”

”Thank you, Orion,” she beamed.

They reached the heavy oak doors of the Entrance Hall and separated, Luna skipping off toward the Ravenclaw table while Orion made his way down the aisle toward the Slytherins.

He slid onto the bench next to his brother.

”Where were you?” Draco demanded immediately, his mouth half-full of mashed potatoes. ”You missed the start of dinner. Snape was glaring at your empty seat for ten minutes.”

”I was taking a walk, Draco,” Orion said smoothly, ignoring his brother and pulling a platter of roast beef toward himself. ”The air in the dungeons was stagnant.”

He began to eat, his mind automatically shifting from the quiet of the forest back to the political battlefield of the Great Hall.

He waited for the inevitable. He waited for the summoning.

Lupin had seen the Boggart. He had seen Orion’s greatest fear manifest as a lethal, executing Headmaster. The Defense professor was fiercely loyal to Dumbledore; he would undoubtedly report the bizarre, highly suspicious illusion immediately.

Orion casually raised his goblet of pumpkin juice, using the motion to sneak a sweeping, calculated glance at the High Table.

He was expecting scrutiny. He was expecting the heavy, piercing weight of Dumbledore’s blue eyes, or perhaps a scowl of deep concern from Lupin.

Instead, he found a scene of profound, infuriating normalcy.

Professor Lupin was engaged in a polite, animated conversation with Professor McGonagall. Snape was sitting in his usual spot, looking gloomy and stabbing his meat with unnecessary violence, completely ignoring everyone around him.

And Albus Dumbledore?

The Headmaster was happily munching on a vividly pink, frosted cupcake, seemingly debating with Professor Flitwick about it.

Orion frowned slightly, lowering his goblet.

Huh? Orion thought, genuine confusion rippling through his usually airtight composure. Everyone is acting as if I haven’t just fought a watered-down, homicidal copy of the strongest wizard in the world. Where is the interrogation? Where is the subtle, probing Legilimency attempt?

It was too quiet. It was incredibly anticlimactic.

As if sensing the gaze, Dumbledore paused mid-bite of his cupcake. He casually glanced around the hall, his eyes sweeping over the student body until they met Orion’s.

Dumbledore didn’t frown. He didn’t look suspicious. He simply offered Orion a small, entirely pleasant, grandfatherly smile, before returning his attention back to his dinner and Flitwick’s conversation.

Orion stared at the Headmaster for a long moment before turning back to his own plate.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur. Orion returned to the dungeons feeling more unbalanced than he ever was. He had braced himself for a confrontation, for a battle of wits and philosophy regarding the ’Greater Good’ and the timeline. To be met with cupcakes and smiles was profoundly unsettling.

”Oh, well,” Orion muttered to himself as he entered his dormitory, waving his wand to draw the velvet curtains around his bed. ”Maybe he wants to wait a while before calling me to his office. Let me stew in my own paranoia. A classic manipulation tactic. I shouldn’t worry too much about it.”

He sat cross-legged on his mattress, tossing his outer robe to the foot of the bed. He felt the familiar, comforting warmth of his surrounding. The confrontation with the Boggart, while mentally taxing, had been a victory. He had faced his deepest anxiety and forced it to wear a Santa hat.

That had to be worth something.

”Sparkle,” Orion called out softly into the dim, enclosed space. ”Boot up. There absolutely must be an achievement I got for defeating that Boggart, right? Show me the loot.”