Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The first two weeks of November bled away with a slow, deliberate pace that stood in stark contrast to the explosive drama of Halloween.

Orion’s physical self spent the days navigating the heightened, sometimes overwhelming atmosphere of his newfound celebrity status. The whispers followed him everywhere. The stares were a constant, physical pressure.

But Orion handled it with the effortless, aristocratic grace of a true Malfoy. He didn’t strut; he didn’t boast. He simply existed, exuding an aura of calm, unapproachable competence.

While his physical body attended lectures and managed the social dynamics of the Slytherin House, his mental bandwidth was entirely consumed by strategic logistics.

I have several major operational targets slated for this year, Orion reasoned during a particularly dull History of Magic lesson. The Room of Requirement and the extraction of the Diadem. The other Horcruxes as well for that matter. And the inevitable, meeting with Sirius Black.

But Orion was a strategist, not an impulsive Gryffindor. He had no intention of rushing headlong into multiple, high-stakes scenarios simultaneously.

”I have to be perfectly ready,” Orion murmured to Sparkle later that evening, sitting in the common room. ”As an overly cautious hero once said: you must always be ready perfectly. Over-preparation is the only acceptable preparation.”

”You have clearly watched a lot of anime, haven’t you?” Sparkle chimed in, sounding delighted.

”I had a lot of downtime in my previous life,” Orion dismissed her.

This extended layover provided Orion with the necessary space to analyze the macro-political shifts occurring in the wizarding world.

The public reaction to the Azkaban breakout was predictable. The fear had simply transferred targets. Instead of whispering about Sirius Black sneaking into their homes or school, the students now traded terrifying, hushed stories about Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov. It was the same panic, just wearing a different face.

Neville Longbottom’s demeanor had darkened significantly. He sat at the Gryffindor table, his round face drawn and sour, his eyes often fixed fiercely on his plate.

Understandable, Orion thought with a flicker of clinical sympathy. The woman who tortured his parents into insanity is loose. He must be feeling so many emotions right now.

Orion himself remained remarkably relaxed.

He knew Bellatrix was going to arrive at the Manor eventually. He had taken precautions. He had instructed Dobby to move the Vanishing Cabinet from his bedroom to the deepest, dustiest corner of the attic, covering it with a heavy tarp and casting localized notice-me-not charms. The chances of a fanatical, magic-obsessed zealot stumbling across a piece of furniture in the attic were statistically negligible.

His days were spent largely in two modes. He endured the Slytherin common room, acting as the silent, amused audience to Draco’s endless, boastful rambling regarding their family’s prestige.

But of course, he found genuine, refreshing respite in the company of Luna Lovegood.

He spent several afternoons with her. He helped her with her Charms essays, finding her unique, non-linear approach to magical theory surprisingly insightful.

More significantly, he had begun teaching her how to duel. He wanted her to be able to protect herself, should she find herself in any kind of dangerous situation.

They utilized the abandoned fourth-floor classroom. Orion would activate the Automated Combat Construct on Level 1, allowing Luna to practice her shielding and dodging against the slow, predictable stinging hexes.

”Keep your footing light, Luna,” Orion instructed, leaning against a desk as Luna danced away from a yellow spark. ”Don’t just block; redirect the energy. The Nargles can’t catch you if you don’t stand still.”

”They are very slow today,” Luna hummed cheerfully, casting a neat, shimmering Protego that deflected the next hex perfectly.

While Luna practiced on the beginner settings, Orion had advanced considerably. He was now comfortably dispatching the dummy on Level 3, deflecting rapid-fire, complex jinxes while maintaining his own aggressive, serpentine offense. He was planning to upgrade to Level 4 before the end of the term.

The most productive aspect of his life, however, occurred entirely off-screen.

Every single night, the routine was flawless. Dobby would Apparate into the expanded trunk-study, carrying the invisible clone back from the Restricted Section. Orion would descend the ladder, sever the magical tether, and absorb the massive, dense influx of complex magical theory, and important historical lore.

It was during one of his rare, unplanned social encounters that Orion received his first update on the elusive Sirius Black.

He was taking a shortcut near the Hufflepuff basement when he practically collided with Nymphadora Tonks.

”Whoa! Watch it, little cousin!” Tonks yelped, her hair flashing a vibrant, startled yellow before settling back into a muted, regulation brown. She stumbled, nearly dropping her wand, but caught herself against the stone wall.

”My apologies, Tonks,” Orion said smoothly, steadying her by the elbow. ”The life of an Auror trainee clearly requires faster reflexes.”

Tonks groaned, rubbing her face. ”Don’t remind me. Mr. Order of Merlin over here is casually strolling the halls, while I’m still stuck doing perimeter checks for non-existent threats.”

She sighed dramatically, leaning against the wall.

”I should have just defeated a Basilisk instead of studying for my N.E.W.T.s,” Tonks complained. ”Now, all my seniors are out scouring the country, hunting down actual Death Eaters, and I’m back in this freezing castle guarding teenagers from... well, absolutely nothing.”

Orion offered a sympathetic, albeit pragmatic, smile.

”To be fair, Tonks,” Orion noted softly, leaning closer. ”If I were in your boots, I would be profoundly grateful to avoid the squads actively searching for Aunt Bella. Surely Aunt Andromeda has told you stories about our crazy aunt. She is not an opponent a trainee should face.”

Tonks shuddered visibly, the playful demeanor dropping instantly. ”Yeah. She did. I’m not exactly eager to run into her in a dark alley.”

Orion nodded, shifting the topic to something less lethal.

”On a lighter note,” Orion asked casually, ”have you had the opportunity to meet Sirius yet?”

Tonks perked up, a grin returning to her face.

”Yep, I have,” Tonks confirmed proudly. ”Got the chance to do so a few days ago. Old McGonagall asked me to join her as an official Ministry escort when she went down to London to meet him. Dumbledore arranged it.”

”And?” Orion prompted. ”How is the newly freed ex-convict of Azkaban adjusting to society?”

”Honestly? For someone who has been locked in a Dementor-infested hellhole for twelve years... he sounded surprisingly jolly,” Tonks laughed. ”He looked terrible, of course. Too thin, hair a mess. But he still had that spark.”

She shook her head, looking incredibly amused.

”He called McGonagall ’Minnie’ right to her face. I thought she was going to hex him into a teacup! And then, he actually had the sheer gall to make a ’serious Sirius’ joke while we were going over his exoneration paperwork.”

Tonks snorted. ”Clearly, those Dementors at Azkaban must have avoided him entirely, fearing his terrible humor might be contagious.”

Orion scoffed softly, a genuine smile breaking across his aristocratic features. The idea of a man surviving Azkaban purely on the strength of terrible puns and sheer, Gryffindor audacity was strangely refreshing.

”Wow,” Orion murmured, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. ”I am actually getting the feeling that I am going to enjoy meeting him.”

Tonks laughed, pushing off the wall. ”Good luck with that. He’s a handful. See you around, Orion!”

”Good day, Tonks.”

Orion continued down the corridor, his mind whirring. Sirius Black was recovering. That was a good thing. He was really looking forward to his meeting with the Marauder.