Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The bitter chill of late November had fully claimed the castle, turning the windows to frost and the corridors into wind tunnels.

For Draco Malfoy, it meant misery. Unlike in the canon, without the convenient excuse of a Hippogriff-inflicted injury, Marcus Flint had aggressively mandated an impromptu, brutal Saturday morning Quidditch practice. The Slytherin team was preparing for their opening match against Gryffindor, and Flint was determined to see the Nimbus 2001s utilized to their maximum, sleet-defying potential.

For Orion, the weekend offered uninterrupted practice time.

The abandoned fourth-floor classroom was sweltering. The air rippled with intense, localized heat.

Orion stood in the center of the room, his dragon-hide boots planted firmly on the stone. His Hawthorn wand moved in sharp, rhythmic, circular motions.

He was not casting a simple, directed jet of flame. He was pushing the boundaries of his perception-based casting, attempting to replicate a highly advanced, controlled manipulation of fire he had read about in the books. It was a safer, localized mimicry of how a master might wield Fiendfyre without the apocalyptic consequences.

”Incendio,” Orion breathed, visualizing not a blast, but a physical tether.

A thick, crackling rope of orange and yellow fire erupted from his wand tip. As he spun his wrist, the fire followed the motion, elongating into a massive, twenty-foot whip of pure flame. He snapped his arm back, and the fire whip cracked against the stone floor, scorching the masonry instantly.

He channeled more magic, creating a second whip from the same source. He twirled them around his body in a synchronized, blurring pattern, creating a roaring, impenetrable spherical barrier of intense heat and light. The air inside the sphere was stifling, but the defensive capability was absolute. Any standard curse or physical projectile entering that space would be instantly incinerated.

He held the barrier for a full thirty seconds before dropping the spell. The fire whips snapped out of existence, leaving the classroom smelling strongly of charred dust.

Orion lowered his wand, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead.

Sitting quietly in the corner, entirely unbothered by the blazing inferno occurring ten feet away, was Luna Lovegood. She was perched on a sturdy desk, her legs swinging idly as she chewed the end of a brightly colored quill, staring intently at a piece of parchment.

”How is the essay, Luna?” Orion asked, taking a sip from a water flask.

Luna didn’t look up immediately. She carefully drew a complex diagram of a teacup with a rat tail.

”It is coming along,” Luna said airily. ”Professor McGonagall wants twelve inches on the structural differences between animate and inanimate transmutation. I’m arguing that inanimate objects possess a dormant, sleepy spirit that gets confused when you ask it to grow fur.”

Orion chuckled softly. ”A bold thesis. I am sure she will find it... uniquely insightful.”

KNOCK. KNOCK.

The sharp sound echoed loudly against the heavy oak door.

Orion frowned slightly. He waved his wand, unlocking the heavy deadbolt he had placed on the entrance.

The door swung open. Daphne Greengrass stepped into the sweltering room, immediately fanning her face with her hand.

”Merlin, Orion, are you trying to bake us all?” Daphne complained, shedding her outer cloak. She glanced at the scorched floor, then at Luna sitting serenely in the corner. ”Hello, Luna.”

”Hello, Daphne,” Luna smiled brightly. ”The Nargles don’t like extreme heat. It’s very peaceful in here.”

Daphne offered a polite, confused nod before turning her attention back to Orion.

”Professor Snape sent me to find you,” Daphne announced, her tone shifting to business. ”He wants you in the Headmaster’s office immediately.”

Orion paused, capping his water flask. ”Did he? How did you know I was here?”

Daphne scoffed, rolling her icy blue eyes. ”Please. Literally everyone in Slytherin knows this specific classroom is your personal, unauthorized practicing chamber. It’s not like you were trying to keep it hidden anyway.”

She gestured toward the door. ”It’s just that no one is willing to risk disturbing you when you are in here. Especially now, with your ’Order of Merlin’ popularity. They think you’re practicing dark curses in secret. The rumors are quite dramatic.”

”I try my best,” Orion murmured, grabbing his bag. He turned to the Ravenclaw. ”Come, Luna. I will drop you off at your common room before I head up.”

Daphne shook her head. ”That would be a massive detour, Orion. You smell like a bonfire; you still need to return to the dungeons to freshen up and change your robes before you see Dumbledore. Don’t worry, I will walk with her.”

Orion hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking between the two girls. It was an odd pairing—the Ice Queen of Slytherin and the eccentric Ravenclaw—but he knew Daphne would ensure Luna wasn’t bothered by anyone in the corridors.

”Very well,” Orion agreed, looking at Luna.

”Have fun with the Headmaster, Orion!” Luna waved.

Orion hurried back to the Slytherin dungeons. He cast a quick series of cleansing and freshening charms on himself, swapped his slightly scorched, sweaty robes for a pristine set of dark, formal school robes, and ensured Robin was safely asleep in his burrow.

Ten minutes later, he was ascending the spiral staircase to the Headmaster’s office.

He knocked once and entered.

Albus Dumbledore was standing near the window, looking out over the frozen grounds. The office was quiet, save for the presence of Fawkes.

”Orion,” Dumbledore greeted him, turning around with a warm, genuine smile. ”Please, come in. I am glad to see you looking well.”

Orion took the seat opposite the desk. ”Good afternoon, Headmaster. Am I to assume this meeting is regarding the events of the medal ceremony?”

”Partially, yes,” Dumbledore nodded, taking his own seat. He laced his fingers together, his blue eyes resting gently on the boy.

”I hope you were not too upset with the abrupt, rather chaotic conclusion of your felicitation ceremony,” Dumbledore began, his tone apologetic. ”It was a momentous occasion for you, and it was deeply unfair that it was overshadowed by such dark news.”

”The timing was unfortunate, sir,” Orion replied smoothly, projecting an aura of polite acceptance. ”But the reality of the threat takes precedence over pageantry. The medal remains valid regardless of the venue.”

”A very mature perspective,” Dumbledore smiled approvingly. ”I actually had planned on checking on you much sooner, given the shock of the incident occurring while you were on stage. However...”

Dumbledore sighed, a hint of deep weariness crossing his features.

”...seeing as you were perfectly well, and not seemingly too upset—as stated by many of the professors who observed your demeanor in class over the past few weeks—and also because I myself have been deeply involved in various, complicated matters at the Ministry regarding the fallout...”

He paused, offering a small, self-deprecating smile.

”I decided to give it some time to settle before I spoke with you about it. I hope you forgive the delay.”

”There is nothing to forgive, Headmaster,” Orion assured him. ”Your responsibilities are vast. I did not require coddling.”

”No, I suppose you do not,” Dumbledore chuckled softly. He sat forward, the casual atmosphere shifting into one of purpose.

”But the true reason I called you here today, Orion,” Dumbledore announced, his eyes twinkling brightly, ”is because a certain individual has been rather persistent in his requests to meet with you.”

Orion’s heart gave a sudden, excited thud.

”Come along, Orion,” Dumbledore said, standing up and gesturing toward the large, ornate fireplace. He grabbed a handful of glittering Floo powder.

”Sirius is recovering nicely, and he very much wants to meet the brilliant, young architect of his freedom. Remus and Harry are also visiting him today, so we shall have a small, rather unique gathering.”

Dumbledore smiled down at the thirteen-year-old boy.

”Let us be on our way to St. Mungo’s.”