Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The shadows in the Transfiguration office had grown long and deep by the time Professor McGonagall finally set her red quill down with a definitive snap.

”That will be all for today,” she announced, rubbing her tired eyes beneath her spectacles.

Orion and Harry immediately stopped writing, both letting out simultaneous, albeit drastically different, sighs of relief. Harry slumped forward over his desk, while Orion merely rolled his shoulders, working out a slight stiffness.

McGonagall stood up and walked over to their side. She collected their lengthy, detailed essays on Advanced Untransfiguration. With a quick, silent wave of her wand, the ink on the parchments shimmered and duplicated itself onto blank sheets resting on her desk.

She then handed the original, handwritten essays back to the boys.

”Keep these,” McGonagall instructed firmly. ”You have essentially summarized the core theoretical principles for the remainder of the term. Use these notes when you study for your final exams. I expect ’Outstandings’ from both of you.”

Orion accepted his parchment with a polite nod. ”Of course, Professor.”

”I will see you three tomorrow morning again. At nine o’clock sharp,” McGonagall said, dismissing them with a wave of her hand.

They filed out of the office, the heavy oak door closing with a solid thud behind them.

The moment they were out of earshot, Nymphadora Tonks leaned back against the cold stone wall and let out a dramatic, agonizing groan that echoed down the corridor. Her hair instantly shifted into a chaotic, tangled mess of dull grey.

”Oh my god,” Tonks whimpered, covering her face with her hands. ”That was the absolute worst detention in the history of Hogwarts. Give me scrubbing cauldrons. Give me polishing silver with no magic. I will literally wrestle a stinky troll. Just... no more paper grading. Please.”

Orion chuckled softly, stepping closer and giving her shoulder a firm, patronizing pat.

”Look on the bright side, cousin,” Orion said smoothly, offering a sympathetic smile. ”Think of today as excellent, practical practice for your eventual career as a fully qualified Auror. The majority of law enforcement isn’t dramatic duels in taverns; it’s sitting behind a desk for eight hours straight, filing endless arrest reports and requisition parchments in triplicate.”

Tonks lowered her hands, fixing him with a glare that could have melted lead. Her hair flared a violent, warning red.

”I need to go rest before I decide to arrest you for inciting a riot,” Tonks grumbled, pushing off the wall. ”I still have night duty patrolling the Astronomy tower tonight.”

”Have a wonderful evening, Tonks,” Orion called out cheerfully as she trudged away.

He turned to look at Harry. The Gryffindor was leaning heavily against the wall, clutching his notes to his chest. His green eyes were glassy, staring blankly at the floorboards, clearly suffering from severe academic overload. He looked as though his brain had completely checked out of Hogwarts.

”Good evening, Potter,” Orion said briskly.

Harry blinked slowly, his gaze drifting over to Orion before he gave a vague, non-committal grunt and stumbled off in the general direction of Gryffindor Tower, looking like an overworked inferius.

Orion smirked and headed down to the Great Hall.

He spent the evening feast sitting beside Luna Lovegood at the Ravenclaw table, casually ignoring the confused and irritated stares of the older Eagles.

He regaled Luna with the dry, bureaucratic details of his detention, making the grading process sound like a complex, slightly absurd Muggle play.

”And I must ask, Luna,” Orion said, pouring her a cup of pumpkin juice. ”What, precisely, did you write in your Transfiguration essay regarding color-changing charms? Apparently, your philosophical detour into the emotional state of the color blue caused my cousin a significant amount of stress while she was attempting to grade it.”

Luna smiled serenely, taking a sip of her juice.

”Oh, it wasn’t a detour, Orion,” she explained reasonably. ”It was entirely relevant. You see, when you force an object to change from red to blue, you aren’t just altering the surface reflection of light. You are forcing the object’s spirit to adopt a melancholic resonance. It’s very traumatic for the teapot. I simply felt Professor McGonagall needed to be aware of the ethical implications of domestic charms. It is not a simple, failure of transfiguration, after all.”

Orion stared at her for three seconds, trying to find a flaw in the logic, before giving up entirely.

”Fascinating,” Orion agreed gravely. ”I am sure Professor McGonagall will take your ethical concerns under advisement.”

After dinner, Orion returned to the quiet sanctuary of the Slytherin dungeons. He bypassed the common room, slipped into his dormitory, and descended into his trunk.

His Reflection Clone was sitting at the desk, looking over a pile of notes regarding the Room of Hidden Things.

”Alright,” Orion said, tossing his bag onto the floor and clapping his hands together. ”Good work today. The categorization looks solid.”

He leaned against the ladder, looking directly at his duplicate.

”From tomorrow onwards, however, there is a shift in the operational schedule,” Orion announced. ”You will go to the detentions with McGonagall on the weekends, and you will attend the majority of the standard lectures during the week. Meanwhile, I will handle the physical excavation of the Room of Requirement.”

The clone paused, setting its quill down. It let out a long, heavy, incredibly recognizable sigh.

”Fine,” the clone grumbled, leaning back in the chair. ”I was really hoping you would at least handle two or three detentions yourself before foisting the punishment onto me.”

Orion scoffed loudly, a wide, genuine smirk spreading across his face.

”Are you crazy?” Orion laughed, shaking his head. ”Obviously, the only reason I was so incredibly nonchalant about demanding a detention from the Deputy Headmistress was because I knew with absolute certainty that I could simply hand the tedious punishment over to my clone.”

He gestured expansively around the room.

”While you sit in an office reading theory and enduring Tonks’s complaints, I will be enjoying total freedom to explore the castle, excavate magical artifacts, and create more chaos. That is how I work. You know it.”

The clone rolled its blue eyes, crossing its arms defensively. ”I know. Because I am you. Doesn’t mean I have to be giddy about it. You’re lucky I don’t feel physical boredom, or I would go on a strike.”

”But you don’t,” Orion smiled triumphantly. ”Which makes you the perfect academic proxy.”

He focused his magical core, reaching out with his intent.

”Goodnight,” Orion said softly.

He dissolved the clone. The silvery light rushed back into his chest, carrying the day’s meticulous sorting data from the Room of Hidden Things directly into his mind.

Orion sat down at his desk, feeling a surge of productive energy. He had successfully outsourced his punishment and his schooling. Tomorrow, the real treasure hunt began.