Orion Malfoy stared at the floating blue screen for a long, contemplative moment. The waveform visualizer was pulsing rhythmically, resembling a heartbeat made of neon light. He slowly backed away from the balcony, retreating from the crisp morning air and the judgmental stares of the peacocks, and moved toward his bed.
The bed was a ridiculous piece of furniture. It was a four-poster majesty carved from blackwood, draped in silver and emerald silks that cost more than a Weasley's kidney. He sat on the edge, the mattress sinking perfectly to accommodate his weight. He crossed his legs, resting his chin on his palm, and addressed the empty air.
"So," Orion started, his voice dripping with mild skepticism. "Let's get the terminology straight. You call yourself an 'Interface.' You have a name—Sparkle, which I'm still debating the merits of, by the way—and you've been watching me drool for a decade. What exactly are you? Are you a Gamer System? A Quest Log? Are you going to tell me my Intelligence stat is too low to tie my shoes?"
The blue screen shimmered, drifting closer until it hovered at eye level. The waveform spiked as the female voice—Sparkle—snorted.
"Stats? Please. How pedestrian," Sparkle scoffed. Her voice echoed directly in his auditory cortex, bypassing his ears entirely. It was a strange sensation, like wearing headphones that weren't there. "Stats are for people who need validation that their gym workout is working. You don't have a Strength stat, Orion. If you punch a wall and your hand breaks, your Strength is 'Not Enough.' If the wall breaks, it's 'Adequate.' Simple physics."
"Okay," Orion nodded slowly. "No stats. I can respect that. Life isn't an RPG. So what is the function of this floating blue rectangle other than blocking my view of the room?"
"I am The Hidden Achievement System," Sparkle declared, the text on the screen shifting to display the words in bold, golden letters that sparkled—literally—with digital glitter.
[ THE HIDDEN ACHIEVEMENT SYSTEM ]
Orion raised an eyebrow. "Hidden Achievement? Like... in a video game? Where you jump off a cliff ten times and get a trophy for 'Splat'?"
"Precisely!" Sparkle sounded delighted. "But with significantly less respawning. Basically, over the span of your life, you are going to live, breathe, eat, and hopefully cause a significant amount of property damage. As you go about your day, you might accidentally—or intentionally, if you're clever—set off specific conditions. When those conditions are met: Boom. Achievement unlocked. Reward granted."
Orion leaned back, his interest piqued but his skepticism remaining firmly in place. "Go on. What kind of rewards are we talking about? Do I get a gold star sticker? A pat on the back?"
"Don't be facetious. It forces me to lower the bitrate of my voice to sound condescending, and that takes processing power," Sparkle retorted. "There are three tiers of achievements. I've categorized them for your mortal comprehension."
The screen shifted again. A list appeared.
[ TIER 1: BASIC ]
[ TIER 2: ADVANCED ]
[ TIER 3: ULTIMATE ]
"Tier 1 is the Basic Tier," Sparkle explained, her voice taking on the cadence of a game show host. "These are for the little things. Tripping Draco, brewing a potion correctly on the first try, scaring a house-elf. Mundane stuff. The rewards are... quaint. You might get a bag of Gobstones, some basic potion ingredients, maybe a chocolate frog card you don't have. Little dopamine hits to keep you going."
Orion's expression went flat. "Gobstones," he repeated. "You're offering me... rocks. Rocks that spit liquid."
"Magical spitting rocks," Sparkle corrected. "Moving on. Tier 2 is the Advanced Tier. These are for the rare and obscure conditions. Things that don't happen every day. Disarming a dark wizard, discovering a secret room in Hogwarts, successfully lying to Dumbledore's face without him offering you a lemon drop. That sort of thing."
"And the rewards?" Orion asked, inspecting a loose thread on his silk pajama pants.
"Now we're talking utility," Sparkle said excitedly. "We're talking Auror-grade wand holsters with anti-summoning charms. A spare wand that's untraceable by the Ministry. Rare spell tomes from the lost libraries of Magical America. Useful, tangible advantages that give you an edge in a fight."
Orion hummed. "Okay. A spare, untraceable wand sounds illegal. I like it. That has value. And the third one?"
The screen turned a deep, pulsating gold.
"Tier 3: The Ultimate Achievements," Sparkle whispered dramatically. "These are the mythical ones. The conditions are extremely rare, highly specific, and usually incredibly dangerous or impossibly stupid. We're talking about things that alter the fabric of fate. Defeating a Basilisk with a spoon. Seducing a Dementor. I don't know, crazy stuff."
"Seducing a Dementor?" Orion choked out a laugh. "Right. Noted. And the payout?"
"God-tier loot," Sparkle confirmed. "Phials of Liquid Luck. Phoenix Tears freely given. A Time-Turner that doesn't age you. The ability to speak Mermish instantly. Things that money cannot buy and magic usually cannot create without supreme sacrifice."
Orion sat in silence for a moment, processing this. On paper, it sounded impressive. It sounded like the kind of cheat code that reincarnated protagonists usually drooled over. But Orion wasn't a typical protagonist. He was a pragmatist, an engineer, and unfortunately for Sparkle, a Malfoy.
"Okay," Orion said, clasping his hands together. "So, how do I find out what these conditions are? Do I get a list? A riddle? A hot-and-cold game?"
The screen blinked. "No," Sparkle said simply.
"No?"
"No hints. No clues. No roadmap. That's the charm of it, isn't it?" Sparkle's voice was breezy and light. "Absolutely anything you do could be an achievement in waiting. You could unlock one by brushing your teeth with your left hand. You could unlock one by setting Snape's robes on fire. You could unlock one by eating fifty treacle tarts in one sitting. You simply... live. And I watch. And if you do something cool, you get a prize."
Orion stared at the screen. The silence stretched out, heavy and thick. Outside, a peacock screamed, breaking the tension.
A visible tick mark throbbed on Orion's temple. He stood up from the bed and began to pace the room, his bare feet slapping against the expensive mahogany.
"Let me get this straight," Orion said, his voice dangerously calm. "I have a System. A magical, inter-dimensional interface housed in my consciousness. And its primary function is to give me random stuff for doing random things, but you won't tell me what those things are?"
"Surprise mechanics!" Sparkle chirped.
"It's not surprise mechanics, it's inefficiency!" Orion snapped, throwing his hands up. He gestured wildly around his room. "Look around you, Sparkle! Look at this room! Do you see the velvet drapes? Do you see the silver fixtures? Do you see the wardrobe that is literally filled with Acromantula silk robes?"
"It's very gaudy," Sparkle observed. "Your father has the aesthetic sense of a disco ball."
"My father is worth millions of Galleons," Orion countered, ignoring the absolutely correct jab at Lucius. "I am a Malfoy. I am heir to one of the oldest, richest, most politically connected families in Magical Britain. If I want Gobstones, I can buy the factory that makes them. If I want potion ingredients, I can have them shipped from the Amazon, referring to the forest by the way, by tomorrow morning. Tier 1 rewards? Useless. I can buy them with my pocket money."
He stopped pacing and turned to face the screen, crossing his arms over his chest.
"And Tier 2?" he continued, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "An Auror holster? I can commission the best leatherworker in Knockturn Alley to make me ten of them. A spare wand? Sure, that's handy, but I could also just steal one or buy one off the black market if I really needed to. I have resources, Sparkle. I have access. The only things that are actually valuable to me are the Tier 3 rewards—the Phoenix Tears, the Liquid Luck. Those are the only things I can't just throw money at."
"Well, then go for the Tier 3s!" Sparkle suggested.
"But I don't know how!" Orion shouted, though he kept his voice controlled enough not to alert the hallway. "You said there are no hints! I could spend the next seven years walking backward everywhere hoping it's an achievement, and I'd just look like an idiot! What use is a system that relies entirely on dumb luck? I'm an engineer at heart, Sparkle. I like systems. I like logic. I like cause and effect. You are just... chaos with a user interface."
He sat back down on the bed with a huff. "This is shit. Technically, this is practically useless. It's a glorified lottery ticket."
The waveform on the screen flattened for a moment, then turned a sullen shade of red.
"Hey!" Sparkle's voice lost its breezy confidence and shifted into a defensive, pouty tone. "That is rude. I am not shit. I am a highly sophisticated piece of metaphysical architecture!"
"You're a random number generator," Orion corrected. "You're RNG. I hate RNG."
"You were planning on being chaotic anyway!" Sparkle argued, the screen vibrating slightly. "I've seen your thoughts! You want to mess with people. You want to experiment with magic. You want to see if you can cast 'Wingardium Leviosa' on a mountain troll. Surely, with that attitude, you will naturally stumble into achievements! Why do you need a manual?"
"Because efficiency matters!" Orion retorted. "If I know that 'Setting a Troll on Fire' gives me a Phoenix Tear, I will find a Troll immediately. But if I don't know, I might waste my time turning the Troll into a teapot, which might only give me a Tier 1 reward of... I don't know, a bag of Bertie Bott's Beans. I don't need beans, Sparkle! I need the Tears!"
Sparkle made a noise that sounded remarkably like a digital huff. The screen floated closer, looming over him like an angry iPad.
"You are so ungrateful," she scolded. "Do you know how many souls drift through the void and get nothing? Zero. Zip. They just get reborn as a peasant in the Middle Ages and die of dysentery at age four. You get reborn as a rich, handsome wizard, AND you get a System, and you're complaining because I won't give you a step-by-step walkthrough?"
"I'm complaining because the design is flawed," Orion stated matter-of-factly.
"It's not flawed, it's adventurous!" Sparkle yelled. "You are just like User 402. He was in a Cultivation world. Do you know what he did? He sat in a cave for five hundred years meditating because he wanted to be 'safe.' He kept asking me, 'Sparkle, what's the quest for the ultimate sword?' and I said, 'Go out and live!' and he said, 'No, it's too dangerous.' He wasted me! He died of old age with zero achievements. Zero!"
Orion rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to sit in a cave. But I'm not going to run around like a headless chicken either."
"But that's the fun part!" Sparkle whined. The red hue of the screen softened to a melancholy blue. "Where is the adrenaline? Where is the enthusiasm? I thought you were supposed to be the fun twin. Draco is the boring one who follows rules. You're supposed to be the wildcard. Why do all you Hosts want a path laid out for you? 'Go here, kill five slimes, get a sword.' That's so boring! It's like painting by numbers. I want to see you paint with... with explosions! And sarcasm!"
Orion watched the screen. The voice was genuinely sounding upset now. It was bizarre. A cosmic entity capable of traversing dimensions was currently pouting because he didn't appreciate her lack of instructional manuals.
"I am enthusiastic about magic," Orion clarified, his voice softening just a fraction. "I just don't like relying on luck."
"It's not luck if you're awesome enough," Sparkle muttered. "Hmph."
A sound emanated from the system—a distinct, pathetic, whiny noise. It sounded like a puppy that had been denied a treat. The screen actually drooped in the air, tilting downward.
"I waited ten years," she sniffled melodramatically. "Ten years of watching you learn to use a spoon. Ten years of listening to Lucius talk about blood purity. Do you know how boring that is? I was so excited for today. I had my intro speech prepared. I even made the font gold. And you just call me 'shit' and ask for a strategy guide."
Orion sighed, rubbing his temples. He was arguing with a computer program that had developed an emotional complex. This was going to be a long life.
"Fine," Orion conceded, though only slightly. "I'm not saying you're entirely useless. The Tier 3 rewards are legitimate. If—and that's a big if—I stumble upon one, I will be grateful. But you have to admit, for someone in my position, the lower tiers are lackluster."
"They are not," Sparkle mumbled, still sounding sulky. "Sometimes you need a gobstone. You never know when you need to spit liquid at someone."
"I can spit at people myself, thanks."
"It's not the same!"
Orion shook his head, a small smirk finally breaking through his mask of indifference. He looked at the sulking blue screen and realized that, despite the inefficiency, having a voice in his head might actually be entertaining. Annoying, yes. Inefficient, absolutely. But entertaining, damn right.
"Look, Sparkle," Orion said, standing up and walking toward the wardrobe. He needed to get dressed before Draco kicked the door down. "I plan on tearing Hogwarts apart to see how it works. I plan on pushing the boundaries of magic until they break. If your hidden achievements are tied to chaos and discovery, then we might get along fine. Just don't expect me to be happy when I slay a dragon and you give me a box of chocolate frogs."
"It would be a limited edition box," Sparkle pointed out quietly.
"Doesn't matter." Orion threw open the wardrobe doors. Rows of pristine robes stared back at him. "Now, can you turn invisible? Or do I have to explain to my mother why there is a glowing blue rectangle hovering over my shoulder during breakfast?"
"I'm only visible to you, genius," Sparkle said, her voice regaining some of its snark. "I'm projected directly into your optic nerve. To everyone else, you're just talking to yourself. Which, by the way, makes you look insane. So, good start."
Orion paused, a robe halfway off the hanger. "Wait. So when I was pacing around the room shouting 'This is shit,' to anyone listening at the door..."
"You were just aggressively shouting at the air? Yes. Yes, you were." Sparkle sounded significantly happier realizing this. "Draco is probably outside right now wondering if the Black madness has finally claimed you."
Orion groaned. "Great. Wonderful. Happy Birthday to me."
"Happy Birthday, Orion," Sparkle chirped, the screen doing a little celebratory spin. "Now put on some pants. We have achievements to hunt. I have a feeling that 'Surviving a Malfoy Breakfast' might be a Tier 1 candidate. No promises, though."
Orion pulled the emerald robes from the rack, the heavy silk cool against his hands. He caught his reflection in the mirror again. The black hair, the sharp blue eyes, and now, a faint, translucent blue flicker in the corner of his vision.
He had money. He had talent. He had a twin brother he actually tolerated. And now, he had a whiny, chaotic, hidden-achievement system that refused to be helpful.
"Let's go make a mess," Orion whispered.
"That's the spirit!" Sparkle cheered.
Orion dressed quickly. The Malfoy dress code was strict, even for birthdays. The robes Narcissa had selected were, as promised, a deep emerald green that bordered on black, embroidered with silver thread in patterns of snakes and stars. It was subtle for a Malfoy, which meant it was incredibly flashy for anyone else. He brushed his hair—briefly, ignoring the mirror's protests that he "missed a spot"—and made sure he looked presentable.
He moved to the door, his hand hovering over the brass handle. He took a deep breath, centering himself. The magic inside him swirled, eager and restless.
"Hey, Sparkle," he thought, testing the telepathic connection.
"Loud and clear, boss."
"If I push Draco into the fountain later, is that an achievement?"
"Only one way to find out," she replied with a giggle.
Orion smirked and pulled the door open.