Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

”Really, Orion,” Remus Lupin interjected softly from his chair, his scarred face a picture of earnest gratitude. ”Without your intervention, things would have been infinitely more problematic. Even if Peter had been sitting right in front of me in his rat form, I doubt I would have even glanced closely enough to recognize him... not unless you had specifically brought him to me and pointed out the anomalies.”

”You were occupied with your teaching duties, Professor,” Orion dismissed smoothly. ”It is easy to overlook the mundane when focused on the extraordinary.”

Sirius leaned back against his pillows, letting out a long, dramatic groan that ruffled his dark, somewhat unruly hair.

”Now the only thing that truly haunts me,” Sirius complained, rubbing his face with both hands, ”is the inevitable moment when I come face-to-face with your bloody father.”

He dropped his hands, fixing Orion with a look of profound, comical despair.

”Lucius Malfoy is going to rub this exoneration in my face until the end of time,” Sirius shuddered dramatically. ”He is going to parade around the Ministry, acting like he personally marched into Azkaban and carried me out on his shoulders. To owe that man anything... to know he considers me politically indebted to him... it is a misery worse than the Dementors.”

Harry frowned, looking fiercely loyal. ”You don’t owe him anything, Sirius. He just did it for the press.”

”It doesn’t matter why he did it, Harry,” Sirius sighed. ”In pureblood circles, a favor of this magnitude is a shackle. He will try to use it.”

Orion stood silently, listening to the Marauder’s lament. His analytical mind, always running parallel calculations, suddenly seized upon a brilliant, highly advantageous opportunity.

A slow, sharp smirk began to curve Orion’s lips.

”In that case, Mr. Black,” Orion murmured, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial, enticing register. ”How about we arrange a little... prank... against my father?”

Sirius’s head snapped up. The word ’prank’ was a magical trigger for the former Gryffindor troublemaker. His grey eyes lit up with sudden, intense interest. ”A prank? Against Lucius?”

”Hear me out,” Orion stepped closer to the bed, resting his hands casually on the metal footboard. ”As I was the primary architect of your freedom—and not my father, who merely handled the paperwork—the core of the debt technically lies with me, not him.”

Orion let the logic settle before delivering the hook.

”If I choose to cash in that debt now, on something seemingly petty and highly specific... you can then use that transaction to publicly and legally claim that your debt to the House of Malfoy is entirely settled.”

Orion’s smirk widened.

”My poor father will have absolutely no choice but to accept it. His leverage over you will evaporate instantly, and he will be furious that he missed the opportunity to extort you for political gain.”

Sirius stared at the thirteen-year-old boy, a massive, genuine grin breaking across his face. ”Merlin’s beard. You want to sabotage your own father’s extortion plot just to annoy him?”

”I prefer to call it ’structured chaos’,” Orion corrected mildly.

”Huh,” Sirius mused, rubbing his chin. ”Is that so? And what, exactly, would you want from me in exchange for this glorious sabotage? I do have a rather hefty sum of gold given to me by the Ministry for my ’suffering’...”

He gestured vaguely to Orion. ”...though I highly doubt a Malfoy would want for money.”

Orion shook his head smoothly. ”Nope. No money. Keep the Ministry’s apology gold.”

He stood up straight, his expression turning serious and focused.

”Instead, what I do want is access. Specifically, access to the Black family ancestral home, located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place. I require unrestricted access to its library... and I require ownership of its house-elf.”

Dumbledore, who had been watching the exchange with silent amusement, suddenly raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the specificity of the request.

”Grimmauld Place?” Sirius repeated, his grin faltering slightly as a shadow crossed his face at the mention of his childhood prison. ”Your mother told you about it?”

”My mother has mentioned it on a few, very rare occasions,” Orion lied effortlessly. ”But she clearly does not like to talk about her former family home, or the people in it, so I never brought it up with her directly.”

He presented his motives with flawless, scholarly innocence.

”The library is a personal wish,” Orion explained. ”Something I desperately wish to have access to for educational purposes. I have read extensive theories regarding the Black family’s tendencies to hoard flashy, highly complex, and obscure magic. I would love the opportunity to read and learn it.”

He paused, ensuring the adults understood he was asking for knowledge and curiosity only, not anything dark per se.

”But the true prize,” Orion continued, shifting the focus, ”the item you will eventually use to officially shut down Lucius’s claims of debt... is actually the elf.”

”Kreacher?” Sirius asked, his lip curling in disgust.

”I do not know for sure if that is the name; Mother never mentioned it,” Orion shrugged. ”But she did say he was a staunch believer in the Black family legacy and traditions.”

Orion leaned in slightly, lowering his voice for dramatic effect.

”We recently lost one of our elves at the Manor,” Orion stated, casting a brief, knowing look at Dumbledore, who politely looked away, adjusting his spectacles, hiding a small smile. ”As I am sure the Headmaster could vouch for. My father has been utterly furious about the loss of the asset.”

”If you could officially transfer ownership of the Black family elf over to me,” Orion proposed, ”I would present it to my father. I would use the acquisition of such a ’prestigious, historically pure’ servant as leverage to claim that your debt to our family is completely, unequivocally fulfilled.”

Orion looked Sirius dead in the eye.

”And you can publicly say it, too. The next time Lucius tries to bring it up, you simply remind him that you paid his son with the Black family elf.”

Sirius stared at Orion for a long, silent moment. Then, he let out a loud, barking laugh that echoed off the sterile hospital walls.

”Well,” Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. ”I have yet to actually go back to Grimmauld Place yet. It’s been twelve years. Kreacher must still be there, festering in the dark.”

Sirius’s expression hardened with old, bitter resentment.

”That elf hates me anyway,” Sirius muttered. ”He always has. He thinks I am a stain on the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. A blood-traitor disgrace. He would probably absolutely adore you, Orion. He was always incredibly fond of mentioning his ’perfect Mistress Cissy’ whenever she visited.”

Sirius looked up, a wicked, triumphant light in his grey eyes.

”So, you are saying... you would absolve me of the debt, and completely neuter your father’s political leverage over me... simply by taking transfer of a miserable, hateful elf and granting you access to a few dusty old books?”

Orion nodded solemnly. ”That is the proposal. A clean, mutually beneficial transaction.”

”Sure,” Sirius smirked, thrusting a hand out toward the Slytherin boy. ”Deal.”

Orion reached out and shook the Marauder’s hand, sealing the verbal contract.

”Good riddance to that miserable elf,” Sirius declared happily, leaning back against his pillows. He looked at Harry, winking. ”I could probably buy a brand new one with the Ministry allowance anyway. A much better one, for that matter. One that doesn’t mutter insults under its breath while serving tea.”