"But..."Orli stared at them in complete bewilderment, as if they'd just suggested she sprout wings and fly to the moon. "I can understand you thinking of Harry, but me? What could I possibly contribute? I'm hardly qualified to teach anyone anything."
She had no idea whether the D.A. was meant to form at this precise moment, but could she truly handle such responsibility? The weight of it settled on her shoulders like a heavy cloak.
"I can't do it either—I'm not a teacher!"Harry protested simultaneously, his voice cracking slightly with panic. "If anyone should be instructing people, it should be you, Hermione. Your academic record is absolutely brilliant!"
"You two are the most accomplished students in our year when it comes to Defense Against the Dark Arts,"Hermione said with the patient tone of someone explaining something painfully obvious. "In third year, both of you achieved higher marks than I did—and that was our only year with Lupin, who actually knew what he was doing. You're genuinely superior to me in combat situations. Besides, we're not discussing teaching credentials or examination scores—"
She gestured emphatically, her bushy hair catching the firelight as she moved.
"Consider what you've accomplished: Orli mastered the Patronus Charm in third year—she knows more combat magic than any student I've encountered, especially after that transformative summer in 1994."
She fixed Orli with a meaningful stare that seemed to pierce straight through to her soul.
"And Harry, your achievements speak for themselves—first year you confronted Quirrell alone, and last year you claimed victory in the Triwizard Tournament!"
"That was pure luck, nothing more,"Harry said desperately, running his hands through his perpetually messy hair. "Half the time I was completely clueless about what I was doing. Without all of you, I'd have died a dozen times over by now."
But Ron and Hermione simply sat there wearing identical knowing grins, as if they were privy to some cosmic joke that Harry couldn't grasp.
"Stop sitting there smiling like you've solved some great mystery about me,"Harry said with growing frustration. "I've never concealed anything from you—you know perfectly well that I stumble through everything on pure instinct and somehow receive help when I desperately need it. But I muddle through almost every crisis by the skin of my teeth!"
"Harry, can't you see?"Hermione drew a deep, steadying breath, her brown eyes blazing with conviction. "We need you precisely because you've engaged in real combat. You understand what it feels like to face genuine danger, and that's exactly the experience we need—that sensation of confronting actual enemies who want to destroy you!"
Harry's agitation subsided slightly, and he cast a somewhat helpless glance toward Orli, clearly hoping for support in his resistance. But Orli could only offer him a rueful smile—when Hermione Granger set her mind on something, eight Thestrals couldn't drag her away from her chosen course.
"Just consider it, both of you, please?"Hermione added with the kind of gentle persistence that was somehow more compelling than any amount of shouting.
Harry and Orli found themselves nodding reluctantly, though neither felt remotely prepared for what Hermione was proposing.
Following that momentous conversation, Hermione refrained from mentioning the subject for two entire weeks, allowing the idea to percolate in their minds like a slowly brewing potion.
Ron attended four additional Quidditch practices, and once Hermione ceased appearing in the stands—her absence as conspicuous as her previous presence—his performance improved dramatically. According to Harry, Ron hadn't endured a single tongue-lashing from Angelina during his most recent training sessions, a development that seemed to restore some of his battered confidence.
Another encouraging development was Orli's ingenious solution to her communication dilemma with Snape. Late one evening, she slipped into the Room of Requirement and placed a single rose—magically transformed to midnight black through careful potion work—on the familiar double sofa in their secret sanctuary.
A week later, when curiosity finally overwhelmed her caution, she returned to discover the rose had vanished. In its place sat a small crystal vial containing cough potion—the particular variety enhanced with blackcurrant and apple wine that transformed the typically bitter medicine into something almost pleasant.
The sight of it made her heart flutter with a mixture of warmth and confusion. After the previous year's Witch Weekly debacle, he'd brewed this exact same remedy for her persistent cough. Her throat had begun its familiar autumn irritation as the Scottish weather turned harsh, but she'd suppressed every tickle during Potions class, maintaining perfect silence even when her chest burned with the effort.
How had he noticed? How did he always seem to perceive things she thought she'd hidden so carefully?
Orli puzzled over this mystery as she uncorked the vial and drank its contents, feeling the sweet warmth spread from her throat throughout her entire being, chasing away both the physical discomfort and some deeper chill she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
Read up to (180+ ) advanced chapters on Patre\on
Visit us here: patreon.com/DarkGolds
Happy reading, everyone!