Harry Potter: Most Annoying System Ever

Orion stepped back from Dolores Umbridge, letting the heavy, suffocating silence of the Chamber settle over her trembling frame.

”Now, of course,” Orion murmured, returning to his side of the table and smoothly sliding back into his high-backed chair, ”the exact severity of your retribution depends entirely on how useful you prove to be for my immediate operational requirements.”

He picked up the matte-black Hydro-Kinetic Pistol, resting it casually across his knuckles like a quill.

”All the treasonous intelligence I have extracted up until now was merely foundational data gathering. It was necessary to ensure we were on the exact same page regarding your absolute, undeniable guilt. But now... this next inquiry is exceptionally critical to me.”

He leaned forward, his indigo eyes pinning her to the chair.

”Tell me, Dolores: what is your specific vault number at Gringotts? And what are the precise magical and physical protections woven around it? List every single one.”

Umbridge blinked, her bruised face contorting into an expression of profound, disoriented confusion. The sudden, violent pivot from international treason and familial vengeance to banking administration completely derailed her train of thought.

”My... my vault?” she stammered, her voice raspy.

Orion didn’t answer. He simply leveled the black barrel at the bridge of her nose with a faint, threatening click.

”Come on, Dolores,” Orion drawled softly. ”Speak up.”

”Vault 215!” Umbridge blurted out frantically, cowering against the backrest. ”It is my personal vault! It holds a substantial amount of Galleons! My life savings, private family heirlooms, everything! It is secured by a standard goblin key! The key is hidden in the false bottom of the jewelry box on my dressing table in London! I can tell you the exact charm to open it! Take the gold! Take it all!”

Orion sat back, his expression smoothing into a look of deep, unimpressed contemplation.

Vault 215, Orion analyzed internally, running the layout through his mind. Opened by a simple, standard-issue goblin key, with no mention of blood wards, dragon posts, or enchanted failsafes.

It was completely useless.

Orion was well aware that vault numbers at Gringotts did not strictly correlate to numerical depth—the subterranean cavern network held thousands of vaults that were occasionally shifted, expanded, or re-anchored as noble lines died out and new wealth emerged.

However, a vault secured by a simple key and zero specialized enchantments was undeniably located within the shallow, upper tiers. It was an ordinary civilian vault. Taking a cart to Vault 215 would not take him anywhere near the subterranean depths of the ancient families. It wouldn’t even cross the tracks leading to the deepest caverns, let alone pass through the primary security bottlenecks.

He needed an excuse for a cart to descend into the abyss. Dolores’s personal vault was a dead end.

”Is that all?” Orion asked, his voice dangerously flat. ”Think very carefully, Dolores. Is there any other vault you have legitimate access to? A vault located on the significantly deeper layers? Perhaps... past the infamous Gringotts waterfall? One guarded by an ancient beast?”

Umbridge looked genuinely bewildered, fresh tears tracking through the grime on her cheeks. ”No! I swear it! I have already told you the absolute truth about my vault! I don’t have a deep vault! Only the ancient Sacred Twenty-Eight have those! That is the truth!”

Orion sighed. A heavy, disappointed sound.

”I know you are telling the truth, Dolores,” Orion murmured.

He raised the weapon, shifted the aim down, and pointed the muzzle directly at her soft, rounded stomach.

”It’s just that the knowledge is of absolutely zero use to me.”

He pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The high-pressure kinetic water bullet struck her midsection with the force of a swinging sledgehammer.

Because Orion had cast a permanent Adhaero charm on the legs of the chair, the furniture did not tip backward to absorb the concussive energy this time.

The entirety of the kinetic shockwave tore straight into Umbridge’s abdomen.

Her breath was expelled in an agonizing, strangled shriek that echoed off the damp stone serpents. Her eyes bulged, her body violently jerking forward against the biting hemp ropes, the sheer, crushing impact bruising her internal organs. She slumped forward, weeping hysterically, gasping for air that refused to enter her seized diaphragm.

Orion rested the gun on the table, watching her dry-heave with detached, clinical observation.

”I require an administrative reason for a goblin cart to travel into the deepest subterranean sector, Dolores,” Orion explained calmly over her sobs. ”Your personal account is completely useless for that purpose.”

Silence stretched in the Chamber. Umbridge whimpered, shivering violently in her soaked, filthy cardigan, her spirit utterly shattered.

Orion’s mind was racing, rapidly calculating alternative avenues. If she doesn’t have deep clearance, I will have to forge Ministry requisition papers, or be forced to use the Imperius Curse on an actual Goblin teller, which introduces massive—

”...Cornelius,” a broken, muffled whisper choked out from across the table.

Orion stopped. He looked up, his sharp eyes locking onto the weeping woman.

”What did you say?” Orion asked softly.

Umbridge lifted her head with agonizing slowness, her face pale as a corpse, her chest heaving. She was terrified of another shot.

”Cornelius...” she gasped out, desperate to offer anything that might prevent another concussive strike. ”Cornelius has his own personal family vault... Vault 872... which is common knowledge. It is in the upper levels.”

She swallowed hard, grimacing through the pain in her ribs.

”But Cornelius also has another vault... opened deep beneath the earth, near the older Ministry archives in the subterranean sector. Gringotts maintains several confidential vaults reserved for high-ranking Ministry departments. Vault 162.”

Orion leaned forward, his interest intensely piqued. ”Explain.”

”Ministry Directors and Senior Management possess the executive authority to establish classified discretionary accounts under the Ministry’s name,” Umbridge wept, the secrets of her corrupt administration spilling out like water. ”Vault 162 is the one Cornelius established. It is his off-the-books repository. It is where he deposits the private ’donations’ and kickbacks he receives from various conservative members of the Wizengamot who wish to... influence... regulatory votes.”

Orion hid a smirk. Father’s bribe money. Beautiful.

”And the security?” Orion pressed, his voice sharp.

”It is managed by a specific goblin teller who is heavily compensated to remain discreet,” Umbridge blurted out. ”The vault is located far below the surface. It is past that waterfall you mentioned... and because of the sensitive Ministry assets stored in that specific sector, the adjacent perimeter is guarded by a dangerous beast. A dragon.. a large black one, with purple eyes and large scaly body.”

Orion froze.

His indigo eyes widened. For a split second, the cold, ruthless inquisitor vanished, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated delight of a prodigy who had just discovered an impossible treasure.

A Hebridean Black, Orion thought, his pulse hammering a thrilling, electric rhythm against his ribs. A native British dragon. Dark, rough scales, bat-like wings, brilliant purple eyes, and aggressively territorial.ⅇℯ𝚕.

Not the blind, tortured Ukrainian Ironbelly tied to the Lestrange vault, but a fully functional, lethal, pitch-black apex predator guarding the confidential Ministry sector right next to it.

The Subjugation Collar sitting in the dark corner of his Inventory suddenly felt like the most magnificent, glorious reward the System had ever granted him.

Orion composed his face, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands over the black waistcoat.

”And you are telling me this exceptionally detailed, highly classified intelligence because...?” Orion prodded smoothly.

Dolores Umbridge looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot, swimming with agony and pure, defeated terror.

”Because,” she whispered, her voice cracking into a broken, breathless sob, ”I am the one who manages the ledgers. I have one of the only two existing keys for Vault 162.”

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