For three consecutive days, Orli and Harry spent an hour and a half by the Black Lake every evening.
They deliberately acted with utmost secrecy—so much so that barely any students noticed them. Only this way would Rita Skeeter find their activities intriguing enough to venture closer. They whispered conspiratorially, occasionally sharing quiet laughter, as though plotting something clandestine.
Breakfast times, however, had become a torment for Orli. She could hardly enjoy a peaceful meal, as hordes of unfamiliar owls swarmed her table each morning. Some carried threatening letters, others contained corrosive Bubotuber pus or hexed packages—all of which she had to vanish with Evanesco. But some couldn't be disposed of so easily: Howlers exploded right there at the Gryffindor table, shrieking vile insults for the entire Great Hall to hear. Now even those who didn't read The Wizarding Weekly knew about Rita Skeeter's article. Wherever Orli went, she could hear whispers and see pointing fingers. No one dared treat Snape the same way—the Slytherins fiercely protected their Head of House—so Orli bore nearly all the gossip and abuse alone.
Some letters she had no choice but to open and read. Like Mrs. Weasley's—while she didn't directly accuse Orli of anything, she ended with advice to take relationships more seriously. Somehow, that made Orli feel even worse.
Then there was Lupin's letter—he seemed to have suspected something for quite some time and expressed deep concern for both her and Snape's current predicament. What warmed Orli's heart was his mention of reading her paper on the improved Wolfsbane Potion; if necessary, he'd be willing to testify on her behalf personally.
Harry was suffering alongside her—he'd received his own batch of "sympathy" letters. Quite a few readers thought he should find a kinder girl, apparently convinced that Harry was just a naive boy who'd been used and discarded by Orli.
The only silver lining for both of them: enduring three nights of mosquito bites by the Black Lake hadn't been in vain. Quite the opposite—Rita was now trapped inside a tightly sealed glass vial in Orli's pocket, in the form of a round beetle. Look closely and you'd notice the markings around its eyes resembled spectacle frames, identical to Rita Skeeter's glasses. Orli had confirmed it was indeed her—she'd drowned dozens of beetles in the lake over the past three days to be certain. May they rest in peace.
"What d'you plan to do with 'her'?" Harry whispered.
"You actually caught 'her'?" Hermione whispered back, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Yeah." Orli nodded. "I think she should write a retraction herself. Otherwise, I'll expose her as an unregistered Animagus."
She pulled the vial from her pocket and set it on the table, tapping it twice. The beetle inside scurried about in panic before suddenly flopping onto its back and playing dead.
Orli took out a piece of parchment, laid the vial on its side, and wrote "Retraction" on the left and "Unregistered Animagus" on the right. Then she tapped the glass with her wand.
The beetle glanced around, then scrambled frantically to the far left side of the vial.
"Blimey, it really is her!" Ron breathed.
Orli then wrote "Work for me" on the right and "Death" on the left. Before she could even tap the vial, the beetle had already rushed to the right side.
"Seems she knows which way the wind's blowing, doesn't she?" Orli said with a cold smile.
"Are you going to let her out?" Hermione asked. The beetle crawled hopefully toward the vial's mouth.
"Not until I take her to see the Professor first." Orli's voice was ice-cold. The beetle began spinning frantically inside the vial, then suddenly went completely motionless.
"Stop playing dead. You should've considered the consequences before publishing that article, Rita Skeeter." Orli stared at the beetle lying belly-up. "Your biggest mistake wasn't crossing me—it was dragging him into this. I won't let him kill you, but I certainly won't let you off easy either."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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