Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The Slytherin dungeons were a flurry of chaotic, disorganized energy long before the sun even considered rising over the Black Lake.

The abrupt change in the academic schedule had thrown the student body into a frantic packing frenzy. Trunks were slammed shut, robes were shoved indiscriminately into bags, and lost items were hunted down with frantic Accios.

Orion, having already packed his single, expanded trunk with absolute, methodical precision, sat calmly in the common room, sipping a cup of strong tea while the rest of his house rushed around him.

Breakfast was a subdued, localized affair. Platters of toast, eggs, and bacon appeared on the low tables in the common room, bypassing the Great Hall entirely to maintain order and expedite the evacuation process.

”I can’t believe we’re leaving like this,” Draco muttered, stabbing a sausage with his fork. He looked slightly pale, the reality of the Dementor attack in Hogsmeade slowly sinking in beneath his usual bravado. ”Aurors everywhere. It feels like we’re prisoners being escorted out.”

”We are being escorted to safety, Draco,” Orion corrected smoothly, taking a bite of toast. ”It is a logistical necessity. Do not let your pride override your common sense.”

By seven o’clock, the entire Slytherin House was assembled in the Entrance Hall, merging with the other three Houses into a massive, heavily supervised crowd.

Aurors in dark cloaks stood at regular intervals, their wands drawn and held at rest, their eyes scanning the bleak, frozen grounds outside the heavy oak doors. The atmosphere was thick with anxiety.

As the students began to shuffle out toward the waiting line of Thestral carriages, Orion deliberately stepped slightly out of the main flow of traffic.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A familiar, colorful figure detached herself from a group of second-year Ravenclaws and drifted toward him. Luna Lovegood was wearing a thick, hand-knitted scarf that looked like it was made of brightly colored puffskein fur, and her radish earrings bobbed cheerfully despite the grim surroundings.

”Good morning, Orion,” Luna greeted him, her silvery eyes bright. ”I am very glad you are safe. I was worried when the Aurors started running around the castle yesterday.”

”Good morning, Luna,” Orion smiled, a genuine, relaxed expression that he rarely offered in public. ”And I am incredibly glad that second-years are still not permitted to visit Hogsmeade. It saved me the trouble of having to locate you in the middle of a Dementor swarm.”

He reached into the inner pocket of his cloak, accessing his Inventory seamlessly, and withdrew the small, elegantly wrapped bag of fruit-flavored sweets he had procured from Honeydukes just before the chaos erupted.

”As requested,” Orion said, handing her the bag.

Luna took it, her face lighting up with a brilliant, unclouded smile. ”Thank you! The Nargles always try to steal the strawberry ones, but I shall keep them safe. Have a safe holiday, Orion.”

”You too, Luna,” Orion nodded. ”Now, go to the carriages. Get a good seat.”

Luna hopped away, entirely unbothered by the tense Aurors or the shivering students.

Orion turned back toward the Entrance Hall, his gaze sweeping the faculty members who were coordinating the evacuation. He spotted Professor McGonagall standing near the massive iron hinges of the main gate, a clipboard in her hand, her expression stern and focused.

He walked over to her.

”Professor McGonagall,” Orion greeted her politely.

McGonagall looked down, her sharp eyes softening marginally as she recognized him. ”Mr. Malfoy. You should be heading to the carriages.”

”I am on my way, Professor,” Orion assured her. ”I merely wished to inquire about the condition of the students from the alleyway yesterday. Miss Edgecombe and Miss Granger.”

McGonagall sighed, lowering the clipboard. The exhaustion of the past twenty-four hours was starkly visible on her face.

”Miss Edgecombe is recovering, though it is a slow process,” McGonagall reported grimly. ”The Dementor’s proximity caused severe magical shock. She has been shifted to St. Mungo’s for extensive, specialized care. Her parents are with her.”

She looked out toward the carriages.

”Miss Granger, on the other hand, has mostly recovered physically, though she still requires care for the psychological trauma. She will be sent home to her family, but not on the train. The crowds and the noise would be too taxing for her current state. I shall be Escorting her via the Floo Network directly.”

”I see,” Orion nodded respectfully. ”I hope they both recover well.”

He turned to leave, ready to join his brother in the carriage line.

”Mr. Malfoy. Wait.”

Orion paused, looking back over his shoulder.

Professor McGonagall was staring at him, her expression stripped of its usual, strict disciplinarian mask. She looked at the thirteen-year-old boy, seeing the cold, aristocratic exterior, but also acknowledging the undeniable actions he had taken.

”Thank you, Orion,” McGonagall said, her voice dropping into a quiet, intensely sincere register.

Orion blinked, genuinely surprised.

”I know what I said in my office,” McGonagall continued, stepping slightly closer. ”I know I told you and Mr. Potter that you should give more value to your own lives, for the well-being of your family and friends.”

She took a deep, steadying breath.

”But at the same time... if you had chosen to heed my advice yesterday... if you had chosen to simply keep yourself safe and not go to their aid when you heard that scream... Marietta Edgecombe, and perhaps even Hermione Granger, would have ended up, dead.”

McGonagall held his gaze, her Scottish burr thick with emotion.

”You saved their lives. And while you may not be a Gryffindor, Mr. Malfoy... I want you to know that as the Head of Gryffindor House, I can wholeheartedly say that you were incredibly brave yesterday. And I am proud of you.”

Orion stood silently for a long moment, absorbing the profound weight of the praise. It wasn’t the political maneuvering of Fudge or the calculated trust of Dumbledore. It was raw, honest gratitude from a woman who valued life above all else.

He offered a slow, deep, perfectly executed bow of respect.

”Thank you, Professor,” Orion murmured.

He turned and walked away toward the carriages.

Perhaps, Professor, Orion thought internally, his pragmatic nature immediately dissecting the compliment as he walked down the icy path. Although, the only reason I am capable of being ’brave’ in those situations is because I keep myself prepared well enough that the risk of failure is statistically negligible. Bravery without preparation is just suicide.

He reached the carriage where Draco, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle were already waiting. He climbed in just as the Thestral began to pull them forward.

The train ride back to London was markedly subdued.

The usual boisterous energy that accompanied the start of the Christmas holidays was entirely absent. The Aurors pacing the corridors cast a long, intimidating shadow over the journey.

Orion spent the vast majority of the trip leaning against the cool glass of the window, watching the snow-covered Scottish landscape transition into the rolling hills of England. He listened with half an ear to Draco and Pansy’s endless, anxious gossip regarding the escaped Death Eaters, occasionally nodding at Daphne’s sharp, cynical commentary, and completely tuning out Crabbe and Goyle’s nonsensical arguments over Chocolate Frog cards.

As the sky bruised into a deep, early-winter twilight, the Hogwarts Express finally ground to a screeching, hissing halt at Platform 9 ¾ at King’s Cross.

The evacuation was complete. But for Orion, the true test of the holidays was just beginning.