"Harry? Orli?"
Hermione stood in the center of the room, her voice tentative, almost careful.
"Well done, Hermione." Harry's voice carried such forced enthusiasm that it sounded nothing like him at all. "Really brilliant. Prefect. Excellent."
"Indeed," Orli said with a smile, though her eyes held a glimmer of mischief. "Pity we can't go to Diagon Alley this year, or you two would owe Harry and me the biggest ice cream sundaes Florean Fortescue's has to offer."
"Of course! I can make it up next time—" Hermione began eagerly.
"Um—Harry—could I borrow Hedwig? I want to tell my parents the good news. They'll be absolutely thrilled—I think they'll actually understand what being a prefect means."
"Yeah, no problem," Harry replied, still using that terrible, artificial cheerfulness that sat so wrong on him. "Take her!"
He kept his back turned, making an elaborate show of folding his robes with unnecessary precision.
"Orli, I'll head back to my room now?" Hermione glanced toward her friend.
"Go on then. I'll come find you in a bit." Orli waved her off with casual warmth.
The door clicked shut, taking both Hermione and Hedwig with it.
Harry continued his charade of packing for several more moments, then finally turned to face Orli, his shoulders sagging slightly.
"So—"
"So—"
The words tumbled out simultaneously. Harry gave a helpless shrug, and Orli burst into genuine laughter.
"Did you expect it?" Orli asked, settling onto the edge of Harry's bed.
"Er... honestly, I was so caught up thinking about the hearing and everything else, I completely forgot about prefect selections this year." Harry's voice carried a note of uncertainty. "I really did forget..."
"I forgot too." Orli's smile was understanding. "Though let's be honest—they probably have violated considerably fewer school rules than we have."
"Right... I mean, they'll be brilliant at it anyway." Harry ran his fingers through his perpetually messy hair, making it stick up even more.
"Really?" Orli fixed him with a knowing look that made him immediately glance away, guilt written across his features.
"Perhaps Dumbledore has his reasons," she added gently.
"But that's just it—Dumbledore!" The words burst from Harry like water through a broken dam. "I haven't seen him all holiday except at the hearing, and even then he didn't speak to me privately. The moment his testimony ended, he was gone!"
"Easy, Harry." Orli's voice carried a soothing quality. "Maybe we really aren't the right choice—think about what we're likely to face. Something tells me we won't have much peace for quite some time. I'll admit I'm a bit disappointed, and I can see you're questioning it too..." She gave him a meaningful look. "But this is Dumbledore's decision, not Ron and Hermione's. We have to trust him."
Ron's familiar footsteps echoed in the corridor. Harry quickly straightened his glasses and managed a more natural smile as his best mate appeared in the doorway.
"Perfect timing with Mum!" Ron announced, his face bright with excitement. "She says she'll get me all the prefect equipment if she possibly can."
"Brilliant," Harry said, and this time his enthusiasm sounded genuine. "Listen—Ron—well done, mate. Really."
The joy slowly drained from Ron's expression.
"I never thought it would be me!" He shook his head in bewilderment. "I was certain you'd be prefect!"
"Yeah, well, I've caused rather too much trouble for that." Harry's tone carried an echo of Fred's casual dismissiveness.
"Yeah," Ron said quietly. "Yeah, I suppose... Well, we'd better get our trunks packed, hadn't we?"
"I'll go check on Hermione. You two need to get moving—" Orli gestured at the chaos of socks and ties scattered across every available surface, then slipped out of their room.
The truth was, Orli didn't particularly care about the prefect badge. Managing younger students held no appeal for her whatsoever. But a nagging thought crept in—if Snape discovered she hadn't been chosen as prefect, would he be disappointed?
She paused in the corridor, glaring at a strip of peeling wallpaper. The way it curled upward bore an irritating resemblance to Snape's hooked nose.
What right did he have to be disappointed in her anyway? She was still nursing her resentment over his harsh words from before. True, the sharp edge of her anger had dulled somewhat, but she certainly wasn't ready to forgive him. Not yet.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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