Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The atmosphere in the Hog’s Head had settled into a comfortable, easy rhythm. For a brief window of time, the dark history of Azkaban and the looming threat of escaped Death Eaters were pushed to the periphery, replaced by the warmth of Butterbeer and shared laughter.

Orion took a slow sip from his chipped mug, his eyes tracking the dynamic across the table.

”I must ask, Potter,” Orion said, adopting a tone of mild, aristocratic curiosity. ”Where are your two usual sidekicks? It is exceedingly rare to see you operating without your Gryffindor honor guard.”

Harry’s smile faltered slightly, shifting into a more complicated expression. He traced a finger along the sticky edge of the table.

”Hermione is probably still shopping,” Harry explained, his tone defensive but laced with genuine concern. ”I asked her to join us, but she said she wanted to give me some time to talk with Sirius privately.”

Harry sighed, looking down at his mug. ”She’s been... she’s been quite stressed recently. Like, incredibly stressed. She’s studying all the time, and she snaps at the smallest things. She even snapped at me.”

”She is taking an unprecedented academic load, Harry,” Lupin interjected softly, offering a reassuring smile. ”It is natural for her to feel the strain. But she is a very strong, highly capable girl. You must trust her to manage her own limitations.”

Or burn out spectacularly trying, Orion thought, though he kept the cynical observation to himself.

Harry nodded slowly, seeming marginally comforted by the Professor’s words. He hesitated for a moment before continuing.

”And... Ron and I recently had a falling out,” Harry admitted, his voice dropping slightly. ”Well, not really a falling out, actually. More like... Ron has just been getting incredibly moody recently.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely confused and frustrated by his best friend’s behavior.

”I just cannot deal with it right now,” Harry continued. ”At times, he is perfectly normal. We joke around, we talk about Quidditch. But other times, he just suddenly gets so angry. He lashes out at me and Hermione for absolutely no reason at all. It’s weird.”

Not weird, Orion corrected internally. Predictable. He lost his pet, discovered it was a Death Eater, watched me gain global fame and fortune off the back of his oblivious incompetence, and is now realizing he is the least remarkable person in a trio containing the Boy Who Lived and the brightest witch of her age. The inferiority complex is reaching critical mass.

Tonks, leaning back against the wooden booth, let out a loud, dismissive snort.

”That’s just hormones, Harry,” Tonks declared with the absolute, slightly embarrassing confidence of a slightly older cousin. ”It’s a phase, alright? Everyone goes through it. You just wait until you turn fifteen. You will see exactly how incredibly moody and dramatic you suddenly become.”

Sirius stopped drinking his Butterbeer. He lowered his mug, turning to look at Tonks with a wicked, teasing gleam in his grey eyes.

”Oh?” Sirius drawled, leaning across the table. ”Speaking from personal experience, are we, Nymphadora? Were you a terribly angsty teenager?”

”Shut up, Sirius,” Tonks glared, her hair turning a defensive, spiky red. ”And I told you not to call me that!”

Before Sirius could launch into further mockery, Lupin immediately stepped in, his voice ringing with firm, protective authority.

”Don’t even start, Sirius,” Lupin warned, shooting his friend a stern look. ”You have absolutely no right to critique anyone’s teenage behavior. You and James were unequivocally the worst during that particular hormonal phase. You were arrogant, volatile, and impossible to reason with.”

Lupin sighed heavily, the memory clearly exhausting. ”And I was the one who had to constantly manage your ridiculous mood swings and apologize to the faculty on your behalf.”

Sirius gasped, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense.

”Me? Volatile?” Sirius countered instantly. ”I’ll have you know I was a beacon of emotional stability compared to you during your ’existential crisis’ phase, Moony! You spent entire weeks brooding in corners, quoting terribly depressing Muggle poetry, and acting like the world was ending just because some Ravenclaw girl didn’t look at you!”

”I did not quote Muggle poetry!” Lupin argued, his usually pale face flushing a sudden, embarrassed pink.

”You did,” Sirius insisted gleefully. ”I have proof! I kept the journals!”

The two grown men immediately devolved into a rapid-fire, good-natured argument regarding the specific embarrassing details of their Hogwarts years. Harry watched them, the heavy weight of the world seemingly lifting from his shoulders as a bright, unburdened smile spread across his face.

Orion watched the interaction, feeling a strange, detached sense of satisfaction. The Marauders were rebuilding their dynamic. Potter was smiling. That was good.

Daphne shifted in her seat, checking the afternoon shadows out of the tavern.

”I should leave now,” Daphne announced quietly, breaking into a lull in the argument. She stood up, smoothing her thick winter cloak. ”I still have some more shopping to do before we must return to the carriages.”

”I’ll join you,” Orion said smoothly, standing up and tossing a few Sickles onto the table to cover his drink. ”It’s been fun, gentlemen.”

He turned to the trainee Auror, who was currently laughing at something Lupin had just said.

”Are you coming, Tonks?” Orion asked.

Tonks waved him off, not looking away from the argument. ”I’ll stay here for a bit. You go on ahead.”

Orion scoffed softly, shaking his head. ”Don’t forget you are an Auror on active, Ministry-mandated duty, cousin. The safety of the realm rests upon your vigilant shoulders.”

”Bite me, Orion,” Tonks retorted, though she was grinning.

Orion offered a final, polite nod to Sirius and Lupin, and escorted Daphne out of the booth.

They left the dim, goat-scented warmth of the Hog’s Head behind, stepping back out into the freezing, snow-covered alleys of Hogsmeade.