Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The second highly memorable encounter of November was entirely unsolicited and significantly more hostile.

It occurred on a Tuesday afternoon. The fourth-floor corridor was packed with students navigating between classes, a chaotic river of shifting robes and hurried conversations. Orion was walking with his usual entourage—Draco, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle—heading toward History of Magic.

As they neared an intersection, the crowd bottlenecked.

Suddenly, a loud, aggressively antagonistic voice cut through the chatter.

”Look who it is,” Ron Weasley sneered, stepping directly into Orion’s path.

He was flanked by Seamus Finnigan, who looked slightly uncomfortable but unwilling to abandon his friend. Ron, however, looked furious. His face was a mottled, angry red, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

The surrounding students immediately slowed down, sensing an impending confrontation. Older students paused, turning to watch.

Draco’s eyes narrowed instantly. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles, stepping forward to form a physical barrier.

”Out of the way, Weasel,” Draco spat, his lip curling in disgust. ”Before I make you scrub the floor with your own robes.”

”Shut up, Malfoy,” Ron barked, his eyes never leaving Orion.

Ron took another step forward, his voice rising in volume, clearly intending for the entire corridor to hear him.

”Enjoying the attention, are you?” Ron demanded bitterly. ”Must be nice. Using your father’s dirty money to buy yourself a shiny medal and lording it over everyone else. You strut around here like you’re some kind of hero, when everyone knows you’re clearly not worthy of it. You’re just a slimy snake who got lucky.”

Draco bristled, stepping forward with his wand ready to be drawn. ”You filthy—!”

Orion moved with effortless, blinding speed. He didn’t draw his wand. He simply raised his left arm, placing his palm flat against Draco’s chest and pushing him firmly back a step.

”Peace, Draco,” Orion ordered softly, not taking his eyes off Ron.

He folded his arms across his chest, tilting his head slightly. He didn’t look angry. He looked profoundly, devastatingly amused.

”Wow,” Orion drawled, his voice carrying easily in the hushed corridor. A slow, razor-sharp smirk spread across his face. ”Look at you. Being so brazenly, publicly jealous. Is it because the entire wizarding world now knows that your pet rat was the reason I received this medal? Does it sting to know that you slept with a Death Eater, and I was the one who used him to secure my legacy?”

Ron let out a furious, guttural growl. He ripped his new wand from his robes, pointing it directly at Orion’s face. The students in the immediate vicinity gasped, shuffling backward to clear a blast radius.

”Do you have the slightest idea how much slander my family is getting right now?!” Ron shouted, his hand trembling with rage. ”Clearly, you and your father deliberately made Skeeter publish that entire article about how my family kept Scabbers as a pet for twelve years! The newspapers are vilifying our name, treating my parents like idiots or accomplices! While you Malfoys are getting promoted as ’champions of justice’!”

Ron stepped closer, the tip of his wand sparking slightly. ”You must have planned it all. You set us up!”

Orion kept his face perfectly impassive, though internally, he was analyzing the accusation.

Did Father pay Skeeter to run that specific angle? Orion wondered briefly. It makes perfect political sense. A brilliant, petty revenge for Arthur’s raids last year. Discredit the Weasley name in the press while simultaneously elevating the Malfoys. Classic Lucius Malfoy.

Orion offered a careless, elegant shrug, entirely unbothered by the wand pointed at his nose.

”Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, Weasley,” Orion said smoothly.

His expression hardened, the amusement vanishing, replaced by a cold, absolute authority. He uncrossed his arms and took a single, deliberate step forward, forcing Ron to hold his ground or retreat.

”Lower your wand, Weasley,” Orion commanded softly. ”And step back.”

Ron didn’t move, his chest heaving. ”Make me.”

”Listen to me very carefully,” Orion whispered, pitching his voice so only Ron, Seamus, and the immediate Slytherins could hear the absolute lethality in his tone.

”At some point in the past,” Orion continued, his blue eyes locking onto Ron’s angry brown ones, ”you firing a spell at me, even in front of all these witnesses, would have only resulted in, at best, a detention from McGonagall or a few lost house points. You would have been hailed as a brave Gryffindor standing up to the nasty Slytherin.”

Orion smiled, a terrifying, humorless expression.

”But the board has changed. You are Ron Weasley. You are a student at Hogwarts. And that is it. That is the entirety of your social and political capital.”

He tapped a finger against his own chest.

”Meanwhile, I am Orion Malfoy. Order of Merlin, First Class. I am officially recognized by the Ministry of Magic as a highly decorated, exemplary citizen who saved the school from a mythical beast and exposed a national conspiracy.”

Orion leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a harsh, unforgiving rasp.

”Throw even a laughing jinx at me right now,” Orion promised, the threat absolute and undeniable, ”and the legal repercussions will be catastrophic. I will press charges for unprovoked assault on a decorated hero. My father will unleash a horde of lawyers on the Ministry. Your family will become so utterly, completely bankrupt trying to defend you in court that they would find it difficult to keep any of your siblings enrolled at this school... much less keep a roof over your heads in that dilapidated shack you call a home.”

He held Ron’s gaze, letting the brutal, financial reality of the threat crush the boy’s anger.

”Considering your family’s current financial condition, and the PR nightmare you are already facing,” Orion finished softly, ”are you really willing to risk your sister’s education just to throw a spark at me?”

Ron was rigid. The anger in his eyes was still burning, hot and potent, but it was now warring with a sudden, suffocating terror. He knew Orion wasn’t bluffing. He knew the Malfoys had the power and the gold to utterly destroy them legally.

His hand shook. The wand wavered.

Before Ron could make a decision, a frantic commotion broke through the crowd.

”Ron! Stop!”

Harry Potter pushed his way through the wall of students, Hermione Granger hot on his heels.

Harry grabbed Ron’s wand arm, pulling it down forcefully. Hermione didn’t even speak; she simply ripped the wand out of Ron’s hand entirely, stepping between the two boys with a look of frantic, desperate panic.

”Don’t do it, Ron!” Harry hissed, pulling his friend back. ”We told you not to confront him like this!”

Ron wrenched his arm free from Harry’s grip, glaring at his best friend with absolute, burning resentment. The pressure, the public humiliation, and the sheer helplessness were boiling over.

He shoved Harry hard in the chest, sending the boy stumbling back a step.

”Get off me!” Ron snarled.

He snatched his wand back from Hermione, shooting a venomous glare at Orion, and stormed off down the corridor, pushing roughly past a group of third-year Ravenclaws. Seamus hesitated for a second before jogging after him.

Harry caught his balance, watching Ron disappear into the crowd. He turned slowly, looking back at Orion.

Harry didn’t look angry. He looked exhausted. He shook his head slowly, a silent acknowledgment of the vast, impenetrable gulf that currently existed between them. He turned and walked away, not following Ron, but heading toward the Gryffindor Tower alone.

Hermione lingered for a moment longer. She threw one last, complicated, deeply conflicted glance at Orion, before she, too, turned and hurried away.

The crowd, realizing the show was over, began to disperse, the whispers already carrying the details of the confrontation down the halls.

Draco let out a loud, triumphant laugh. ”Did you see his face?! He looked like he was going to cry!”

Orion let out a long, quiet sigh, his posture relaxing as the adrenaline faded.

I guess, Orion thought, staring down the empty corridor, that even if you become the hero of the wizarding world... you will always remain the absolute, irredeemable villain in someone else’s story. It is the inescapable nature of narrative physics.

”Whatever,” Orion muttered softly to himself, turning back to his entourage. ”Let’s go. We will be late for History of Magic.”

”Are you actually going to take notes today?” Pansy asked, adjusting her bag.

”Heavens, no,” Orion replied, leading the way. ”I have at least an hour of sleep to catch up on.”