Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The grandfather clock in the corner of Professor Snape’s office chimed eight times, the heavy, metallic sound echoing off the stone walls.

Orion stood near the hearth, dressed in a set of immaculately tailored, dark navy traveling robes. He held a small, leather satchel containing a few essentials and Robin, who was currently asleep inside the expanded pocket.

Standing right beside him, practically vibrating with nervous, eager energy, was Draco.

”I am coming too,” Draco announced for the third time, adjusting the silver clasp of his cloak. He looked at Snape, his chin jutting out defiantly. ”I want to be there. I am not staying at school while my own brother gets an Order of Merlin at the Ministry. Father would want me there.”

Orion didn’t sigh. He simply turned to his twin, offering a perfectly composed, encouraging smile.

”Of course, Draco,” Orion agreed smoothly, his voice devoid of its usual mocking edge. ”I need my brother right there beside me in the Atrium. After all, your photo should absolutely be in the papers tomorrow, shouldn’t it? The Malfoy heirs, standing together in victory.”

Draco puffed his chest out, completely mollified by the appeal to his vanity. ”Exactly. It wouldn’t look right if I wasn’t there.”

Snape rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder he didn’t strain a muscle.

Before the Potions Master could comment on the sheer, staggering volume of ego in the room, the green flames of the fireplace roared to life.

Narcissa Malfoy stepped gracefully out of the grate. She wore a stunning, high-collared robe of pale silver silk, her blonde hair arranged in an intricate, flawless style.

”Orion. Draco,” Narcissa greeted them, her face lighting up with genuine warmth. She stepped forward, pulling them both into a brief, elegant embrace, carefully avoiding wrinkling their robes.

She turned to the Potions Master, her expression softening into one of polite familiarity. ”Severus. Thank you for facilitating this.”

”It is no trouble, Narcissa,” Snape replied softly, offering a shallow bow.

”Will you be joining us at the Ministry tomorrow afternoon?” Narcissa inquired. ”I know Lucius would appreciate your presence in our box.”

Snape’s lip curled slightly, a look of profound distaste crossing his features at the thought of a Ministry gala. ”Regrettably, no. I have an insurmountable pile of second-year essays to grade that borders on the illiterate. Furthermore, Albus is attending in his capacity as Chief Warlock, so another faculty member is entirely superfluous. My presence is not required.”

Narcissa nodded understandingly. ”A pity. We shall see you at the end of term, then.”

She turned back to the fireplace, gathering a handful of Floo powder. ”Come, boys. Your father is waiting.”

They stepped into the flames one by one, calling out for Malfoy Manor.

The transition from the damp, oppressive chill of the Hogwarts dungeons to the opulent, aggressively heated receiving room of the Manor was instant.

Lucius Malfoy was waiting for them. He stood near the center of the room, leaning heavily on his silver-headed cane, wearing deep black robes that seemed to swallow the light.

”Boys,” Lucius greeted them, his grey eyes locking onto Orion immediately. There was a fierce, burning pride in his gaze that was entirely unnerving.

”Welcome home, Orion,” Lucius said, his voice dropping into a register of profound, serious satisfaction. ”I trust you are mentally prepared?”

”Perfectly, Father,” Orion replied, offering a respectful bow.

”Excellent,” Lucius nodded sharply. He began to pace, his cane tapping rhythmically against the polished marble floor.

”You must ensure you wake up on time tomorrow morning, Orion,” Lucius instructed, his tone shifting into full commander mode. ”You must prepare yourself meticulously. Your appearance, your posture, your diction must be utterly flawless.”

He stopped, turning to face his sons.

”This accolade is absolutely essential for the prestige of the Malfoy name. It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Normally, such an award is only available after a lifetime of grueling public service or a monumental, undeniable act of magical discovery.”

Lucius offered a thin, calculating smile.

”But the circumstances regarding Lockhart’s fraud and the Pettigrew revelation were... skewed heavily in our favor this time. We capitalized on the Ministry’s desperation for a positive narrative. It is a political masterstroke.”

Lucius took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he prepared to launch into his favorite, most exhausting topic.

”This proves, yet again, what I have always maintained regarding the inherent superiority of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. While the Ministry relies on diluted bloodlines and incompetent half-breeds to maintain order, it takes a true Malfoy—a paragon of pureblood lineage—to actually secure the safety of the realm. The legacy we carry is a heavy burden, but it is one that we—”

”Father,” Orion interrupted smoothly, his voice cutting through the rising tide of rhetoric with practiced, polite urgency.

Lucius paused mid-gesture, his eyes narrowing slightly. ”Yes, Orion?”

Orion rubbed his eyes, adopting a look of deep, overwhelming fatigue.

”I apologize for the interruption, Father, but I truly need to sleep early tonight,” Orion said, his tone thick with fake exhaustion. ”If I am to wake up early and present the flawless, energetic image the Ministry expects tomorrow... I cannot afford to be drained. We can absolutely continue this vital discussion regarding our legacy later on. Perhaps after the ceremony?”

Lucius blinked, the grand speech dying on his lips. The appeal to the perfection of tomorrow’s image was the only thing that could derail his pureblood pontifications.

”Ah. Yes,” Lucius stammered slightly, adjusting his cuffs. ”Rest is, of course, paramount. We must not have you looking fatigued for the photographers.”

”Thank you, Father,” Orion offered a quick, crisp bow. ”Goodnight, Mother. Draco.”

He didn’t wait for another word. He spun on his heel and bolted out of the receiving room, moving with a speed that entirely belied his claimed exhaustion.

He didn’t slow down until he was safely inside his massive, luxurious bedroom in the East Wing, the heavy oak door clicking securely shut behind him.

He leaned against the wood, letting out a long, heavy groan.

”Dodged another bullet,” Sparkle’s voice buzzed in his ear, her interface popping up with a digital image of a dodging matrix character.

”It’s exhausting,” Orion muttered, pushing off the door and walking toward his bed. ”I swear to Merlin, Sparkle... I could literally ascend to godhood, rewrite the laws of the universe, and summon a galaxy of gold... and he would still find a way to give me a twenty-minute speech on how the Malfoy legacy made it possible.”

”He’s consistent, if nothing else,” Sparkle giggled.

Orion pulled off his traveling cloak, tossing it onto a chair. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Robin, setting the sleepy Niffler down on the edge of the mattress. Robin immediately curled into a black, furry ball and resumed snoring.

”Whatever,” Orion sighed, climbing into bed and pulling the silk duvet up to his chin. The quiet, luxurious peace of his own room washed over him, infinitely preferable to the stone dampness of the dungeons.

”Tomorrow is the big day,” Orion whispered into the darkness, a genuine, anticipatory smile finally breaking across his face. ”Time to collect the grand prize.”

He closed his eyes, letting the silence of the Manor take him.