Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The rat flinched violently at the sound of the name, letting out a series of frantic, terrified squeaks that sounded entirely like an ordinary rodent in distress to anyone without the All-Speak.

”He knows! He knows!” Pettigrew’s internal voice wailed, pacing frantically against the back of the iron cage. ”I have to get out! I have to escape!”

Remus Lupin glared down at the shivering creature, his eyes dark with a mixture of profound betrayal and a rising, terrifying anger.

”So,” Lupin said, his voice barely above a harsh whisper, trembling with suppressed emotion. ”You are still alive. After all these years. Hiding as a. I... I cannot believe this.”

Lupin slumped back into his chair, running a hand over his face, momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer, staggering reality of the twelve-year-old lie unraveling before him.

Hermione Granger looked wildly between the Professor, the rat, and Orion. Her brilliant mind was spinning, trying desperately to connect the disparate pieces of information.

”Wait,” Hermione said, her voice rising in panic. ”I don’t understand. Professor? Why are you calling Scabbers by another name?”

Orion stepped in smoothly, shifting the narrative to maintain his alibi while displaying his usual, terrifying intellect.

”If I am piecing this together correctly, Granger,” Orion drawled lazily, resting his chin on his hand, ”it appears your friend’s pet rat is not a rat at all. It is an unregistered Animagus. Specifically, a man named Peter Pettigrew.”

Hermione gasped, clutching Crookshanks tighter. ”Peter Pettigrew? But... but he’s dead! Sirius Black blew him up! My history books said—”

”History books are written by the victors, Granger, or in this case, the loudest survivors,” Orion interrupted calmly. ”The twelve-year lifespan of a common garden rat was the first anomaly. The second, and far more damning, is the missing toe on the front right paw.”

He gestured gracefully toward the shivering creature in the cage.

”According to the Ministry reports from the incident twelve years ago, the only piece of Peter Pettigrew that was ever recovered from the blast site... was a single, severed finger.”

Hermione stared at the rat, the pieces clicking horrifyingly into place in her mind. Her face drained of color.

Lupin stood up abruptly, the momentary weakness vanishing, replaced by a rigid, military focus. He drew his wand and gave it a sharp, decisive flick.

”Expecto Patronum.”

A brilliant, silvery-white wolf erupted from the tip of his wand. It didn’t bound playfully; it stood at attention, waiting for a command.

”Albus,” Lupin spoke clearly to the spectral wolf. ”I need to meet with you in your office immediately. It is an emergency of the highest order.”

The wolf Patronus turned and bounded through the solid wooden door of the office, racing away to deliver the message.

Lupin didn’t waste another second. He began moving around his office with frantic efficiency, waving his wand to send books flying back onto shelves and locking cabinets.

”Miss Granger,” Lupin commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. ”I need you to go to Gryffindor Tower immediately. Find Ronald and Percy Weasley. Tell them they are required in the Headmaster’s office right now regarding their pet. Do not explain further. Just bring them.”

He paused, a shadow crossing his scarred face. ”And... best inform Harry as well. Tell him to come. This concerns him more than anyone.”

Hermione nodded silently, too stunned to ask further questions. She tightened her grip on the purring Crookshanks, cast one last, horrified look at the cage, and sprinted out the door.

Once she was gone, Lupin turned his attention back to Orion.

”We should go to the Headmaster’s office,” Lupin said, moving toward the desk to pick up the heavy iron cage. The rat squealed in terror as the cage lifted.

Lupin paused, looking at Orion with a piercing, analytical gaze that reminded Orion very much that this man had survived a war.

”I must ask, Orion,” Lupin said casually, though his eyes were anything but casual. ”How did you truly find out about him? The lifespan and the toe are excellent deductions after the fact. But what prompted you to look so closely at a Gryffindor’s pet in the first place?”

Orion remained seated for a moment, considering his answer. He could maintain the lie entirely, insisting on Crookshanks’ hunting prowess. But he recognized an opportunity to secure a small, private understanding with a man who could be a valuable ally, or at least a neutral party.

”Publicly, Professor,” Orion said, standing up and smoothing his robes, ”I will maintain the fact that Granger’s cat brought me a gift. The cat simply likes me. It is an undeniable, albeit bizarre, truth.”

He stepped closer to Lupin, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur.

”But on a private note... between you and me?” Orion smiled, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. ”All I will say is that I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Lupin froze.

The heavy iron cage in his hand dipped slightly. His eyes widened to the size of Galleons, staring at the thirteen-year-old Slytherin as if he had just sprouted a second head.

”A little bit of mischief can be managed quite easily, Professor,” Orion concluded softly, turning toward the door. ”If one has the right tools. I hope you will keep this specific detail a secret between us.”

Lupin stood completely still for three seconds, his mind reeling as he processed the fact that a Malfoy somehow possessed the greatest secret of the Marauders. Slowly, a genuine, albeit stunned, smile broke across his scarred face.

”So it would seem,” Lupin breathed, shaking his head in profound disbelief. He adjusted his grip on the cage. ”Very well, Orion. Your secret is safe. Crookshanks brought it to you. A very... talented cat.”

”Indeed,” Orion agreed. ”Shall we?”

Together, they left the office, walking briskly toward the Headmaster’s tower, carrying a caged traitor and the key to unraveling a twelve-year-old lie.