Soon, only two people remained in the office. Orli glanced at the ceiling, then at the floor, and finally towards Snape.
"Professor?" she called tentatively.
Snape shot her a cold glance.
"Are you upset?" Orli cautiously observed his expression.
"Didn't I tell you to stay away from Lupin?!" Snape finally spoke.
Orli silently lowered her head. She hadn't been that close to Lupin; she was even thinking of finding an excuse to slip away...
"A werewolf is the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor you've ever had?!" Snape's voice was sharp and biting.
"You've only seen a few Defense Against the Dark Arts professors, like Quirrell and Lockhart..." Snape continued.
"If you taught this class, you'd definitely be better than Professor Lupin," Orli said obediently.
Snape was momentarily speechless. The words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat, and he could only glare at her through gritted teeth.
The office fell silent again, and in the pin-drop silence, a gnawing sound came from a corner. It was Scabbers, gnawing on the edge of its cage with its long front teeth, grinding them down.
"Get rid of Weasley's filthy rat," Snape said irritably, waving his hand as if swatting an invisible fly.
"Professor, I promise I'll take care of it before Christmas," Orli vowed, quickly slipping towards the office door.
"Then I'll be going, goodnight, Professor," she said, slipping out and gently closing the wooden door. Before Snape could assign her any punishment, she hurriedly but quietly ran away. She had already asked Professor Sprout; this year's batch of Mandrakes hadn't matured yet. So she had to order some Mandrake essence from the Mediterranean, which would arrive in a week or two. The day for Pettigrew to revert was approaching.
——————
November at Hogwarts was wild and stormy. Even during the day, the corridors and classrooms were dark, requiring extra torches and lamps.
In this week's Defense Against the Dark Arts class, except for Orli, all the Gryffindors were chatting as usual while waiting for the professor. But when the classroom door opened, it wasn't Lupin who entered, but Snape.
"Gryffindor loses ten points for your appalling classroom discipline," Snape sneered, striding towards the podium. But Harry suddenly stood up and asked:
"Where's Professor Lupin?"
"He's too ill to teach today," Snape replied.
"What exactly is wrong with him?" Harry pressed, as if suspecting Snape had poisoned Lupin.
"In any case, nothing life-threatening," Snape's black eyes glinted unfriendly.
"Another five points from Gryffindor, and if you don't sit down, it'll be fifty," Snape added.
Harry reluctantly sat down. Snape surveyed the class slowly and said:
"Before Potter interrupted me, I was saying that Professor Lupin left no record of your class progress—"
"Sir, we've covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas," Hermione quickly interjected, "We were just about to start—"
"Silence," Snape said icily, "I didn't ask you. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of structured teaching."
"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've had," Ron boldly declared, with the rest of the class murmuring in agreement. Orli almost wanted to hide under the desk as Snape fixed his gaze on her, saying:
"Ha. That sounds familiar."
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