Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

The freezing garden air hung motionless between them.

Bellatrix blinked, her dark, heavy-lidded eyes widening as she processed the sudden, chilling weight of the command. For a split second, the reflexive fury of a woman unaccustomed to being ordered about flickered across her face. But the magic of the familiar bond, combined with Orion’s absolute, unwavering composure, swiftly smothered the spark before it could ignite.

”Why not?” Bellatrix whispered, tilting her head, genuinely perplexed. ”He would elevate you, Orion. He would recognize your brilliance. Why hide from his grace?”

Orion let out a quiet, measured breath, letting the frost plume softly into the air between them.

”Because, Aunt Bella,” Orion began, his tone turning clinical and instructional, ”alongside the historical records of his rise, I have also spent an extensive amount of time digging into the exact mechanics of that night in Godric’s Hollow. Specifically, why the Dark Lord failed to kill Potter.”

Bellatrix’s jaw tightened at the mention of that cursed night, but she listened intently.

”Suffice it to say,” Orion continued, his gaze piercing, ”there was ancient, volatile blood magic involved. Lily Potter sacrificed herself, creating a lingering, sacrificial ward. But the rebound did not merely destroy the Dark Lord’s physical vessel. It fractured something deeper.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.

”From my research in the Restricted Section, and from the rather extensive, careful observations I have made while interacting directly with both Potter and Albus Dumbledore over the past two years... I have it on exceptionally good authority that a sympathetic, spiritual bond was forged between Potter and the Dark Lord that night.”

Bellatrix gasped softly, her breath hitching. ”A bond? With that filthy half-blood brat?”

”Precisely,” Orion nodded. ”A psychic bridge. Due to this connection, Potter occasionally catches fleeting glimpses through the Dark Lord’s consciousness. He feels his surges of emotion. In involuntary bursts, he can literally see through the Dark Lord’s eyes.”

He let that sink in before delivering the tactical conclusion.

”Potter cannot control it at whim right now, of course; he is far too untrained and mentally undisciplined. And as a bodiless wraith, the Dark Lord is currently at a severe cognitive disadvantage, barely anchored to reality. Once he regains a true physical body, I am certain he will deduce the connection himself and turn the bridge into a weapon, using it to invade Potter’s mind at will.”

Orion fixed her with a hard, uncompromising stare.

”But right now? In his weakened state? If you march into his presence and begin chanting the praises of ’Orion Malfoy’... if his mind lingers on my name, my face, or my deeds... there is a terrifyingly high probability that the thought bleeds directly across the tether into Harry Potter’s dreams.”

Orion sneered slightly, crossing his arms.

”I have spent two solid years carefully cultivating an immaculate, untouchable standing within the Light faction. Dumbledore respects me. The Ministry awarded me an Order of Merlin. The public views me as an exemplary pureblood savior. I refuse to let that priceless cover go to waste simply because Potter woke up in Gryffindor Tower with my name ringing in his scar.”

He softened his expression, letting a faint, charming warmth bleed into his indigo eyes as he looked down at her.

”Besides,” Orion added softly, his voice dropping into a smooth, intimate cadence, ”I have no need for the Dark Lord’s validation, Aunt Bella. I do not care for his empty titles or his hollow praise.”

He reached out, lightly brushing the back of his gloved fingers against her cheek.

”Only my formidable godmother’s smile is important to me.”

The flattery, delivered with surgical precision, hit Bellatrix right in her fanatical, starved heart. The Familiar’s Orb magnified the affection tenfold, sending a flush of vibrant, ecstatic color into her hollow, pale cheeks.

Tears of pure, devoted adoration welled in her eyes. She looked down at the glowing brass compass in her hands, clutching it against her chest as if it were a newborn child.

”You have given me everything, Orion,” Bellatrix breathed, her voice trembling with intense emotion. ”The greatest gift I have ever received in my miserable life. And here I am... with nothing to give you in return.”

”A gift is never given with the expectation of a return, Aunt Bella,” Orion replied immediately, waving a dismissive hand. ”I am well aware that my formidable godmother could hand me the world on a silver platter should I ever desire it.”

He paused, tilting his head as if striking upon a sudden, casual afterthought.

”However... if you truly wish to balance the scales, how about this?”

Bellatrix looked up eagerly. ”Anything, little star.”

”Focus entirely on finding the Dark Lord,” Orion proposed smoothly. ”Follow the compass. Secure his spirit. But... keep me posted on his current status.”

He tapped his temple.

”Let me know his condition, his location, and whatever grand, future plans he begins to formulate for his resurrection. That way, I can manipulate the political landscape here at Hogwarts and the Ministry to ensure the board is cleared for his return—without anyone ever suspecting my involvement.”

To an outside observer, the request was clear: Orion was asking Bellatrix Lestrange to act as his personal, unwitting double-agent, effectively turning the Dark Lord’s most trusted zealot into his own private surveillance network.

To Bellatrix, however, completely compromised by the familiar bond, the request sounded like the pinnacle of strategic brilliance. It was a shared secret. A sacred pact between an ambitious godson and his loving aunt to orchestrate a war from the shadows.

”I will,” Bellatrix promised fiercely, nodding without a shred of hesitation. ”I will find him, and I will tell you everything. Every whisper, every plan. You will always know, my clever little godson.”

She reached up, her long, manicured fingernail tracing a slow, possessive line down the side of his neck.

”I leave today,” she declared, her eyes burning with newfound purpose as she stared down at the glowing needle. ”I cannot stay here another moment while he waits in the dark.”

”Safe travels, Aunt Bella,” Orion smiled, stepping back gracefully. ”Do not get caught by the Aurors. It would be terribly inconvenient for my plans.”

Bellatrix let out a wild, thrilling bark of laughter, spun on her heel, and practically sprinted toward the Manor to gather her things, vanishing into the falling snow like a dark wraith.

Orion stood alone on the frozen path, watching the empty space where she had been.

He let out a long, heavy, utterly exhausted sigh, running a hand over his face.

I just turned Bellatrix Lestrange into a spy against Lord Voldemort, Orion thought, a slow, disbelieving smirk spreading across his lips. Merlin, this universe is absurd.

He pulled his cloak tighter against the wind and turned back toward the glass doors of the estate.

”Well,” Orion murmured quietly into the cold air, ”that takes care of the Dark Lord’s itinerary. But there are still a few more critical things we need to make detailed plans about, Sparkle.”