Dumbledore's tone was as gentle as ever, standing there with a slight smile. Yet Orli felt as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over her. Snape's black eyes were fixed on Orli, his voice low and deliberate, carrying a suffocating pressure:
"Occlumency—Waters?" Snape queried.
"I only confirmed this after a long time," Dumbledore said gently. "For a thirteen-year-old, her proficiency is quite remarkable. It must have taken considerable practice."
"Headmaster..." Orli focused on a tuft of Dumbledore's beard, watching its upward curve. Her neck and cheeks were stiff, unable to move, and she dared not glance in Snape's direction.
"I started practicing the summer before I enrolled," Orli admitted.
"So, that's why you fainted after the Sorting," Snape's voice came from above her, as if he suddenly understood many things. "Is there something you need to conceal from others, to the point of exhausting your mental strength?"
"I just don't want my thoughts to be easily read—family portraits told me... there are people at Hogwarts skilled in Legilimency. It was those portraits that urged me to learn... they feared I might reveal some family potion secrets..." Orli deflected the blame onto her ancestors.
"Rest assured, child, even if some among us know Legilimency, we wouldn't do such a thing to students," Dumbledore reassured her. "But you're still young, and Occlumency requires specialized guidance. You've mastered it well enough for now. Don't push yourself too hard, or you might harm your brain."
"A poor excuse," Snape's voice remained icy. "Many hold family secrets, but few practice Occlumency, let alone to your extent. Unless you have something absolutely secret, or you're set on being a deceiver—have you been pretending in front of me, deliberately trying to please me?"
Orli trembled slightly. She looked up, meeting those black eyes.
"I haven't, Professor. If you don't believe me, use Legilimency on me. I won't resist."
She was like a mad gambler, betting everything. Her rational mind pulled her back, but her emotions wouldn't allow her to lose all of Snape's trust. Even if he discovered she "knew the future," even if he ignored her from then on, at least she could let him know his fate, perhaps... he wouldn't have to die...
Their eyes met, and the surroundings fell into a vacuum-like silence. Snape looked at the girl, a hint of moisture at the corner of her eye, her gaze clear as if she truly had nothing to hide. Flashes of the two-way mirror he'd thrown in a drawer crossed his mind, the words she said after his Death Eater identity was exposed, every weekend they spent in the office over the past three years...
He saw his reflection in her pupils, his gaze narrowing, turning his head away. He feared seeing true feelings for him in her mind... yet feared seeing it was all a facade...
Forget it, this foolishly arrogant, reckless Gryffindor, what dark secrets could she have? As for the rest, better not to see.
"I'm not interested in your troll-like shriveled brain," Snape's voice dryly sounded. He turned to Dumbledore. "If we don't head to the pitch now, the match will end."
"Oh, yes, of course, of course," Dumbledore seemed to have been watching their interaction, only coming to his senses when Snape called him.
"Let's go then," Dumbledore said.
Orli gently released her tightly clenched hands from her sleeves, feeling a tingling pain in her palms, as if marked by fingernails.
But she knew she had won the gamble.
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