"Hello. I'm Orli Waters."
Orli extended her hand with practiced politeness, offering a brief but proper handshake.
"You're quite right—I became head of house when I was one year old," she said with a wry smile. "Unfortunately, the only person I can command is myself."
"Won't you introduce us properly, Severus?" The young wizard turned toward Snape with genuine puzzlement, clearly noting the professor's distinctly sour expression.
"Waters—" Snape began, his words emerging with deliberate, almost painful slowness. "This is... Apleino Galland."
Orli's eyes flew wide. She looked between the youthful wizard before her and Snape, her voice carefully uncertain:
"Which... which Mr. Galland would that be?"
"What other 'Mr. Galland' could there possibly be?" Apleino Galland burst into delighted laughter. "Just like you, I'm the sole surviving Galland at present."
"So those Beauxbatons texts—" Orli breathed.
"Oh, those? All mine," Galland said breezily. "I've no interest in teaching—sitting around the family estate with nothing but research for company gets frightfully dull. So I wrote them a few textbooks to pass the time. You've actually worked through the Beauxbatons potions curriculum?"
"Yes, my friend brought me several of your books from France," Orli explained, then ventured with obvious curiosity: "Might I ask—rather boldly—your age?"
The question bordered on rudeness, but Galland answered with characteristic openness:
"Same as Severus, actually. We were fifteen when Slughorn first brought him to a conference—met in Norway. Been acquainted ever since. He's never mentioned me?"
"He..." Orli glanced toward Snape, noting the thunderous atmosphere radiating from her professor. She pivoted smoothly: "I never asked, because I typically focus all my attention on our professor..."
The words carried an unfortunate undertone, so she added hastily: "You can imagine—the professor maintains very high standards."
"Ha! Still as charming as ever, Severus? I rather hoped washing your hair might improve your disposition..." Galland grinned, eyeing Snape's considerably cleaner locks. "When exactly did you start that particular habit? I was convinced you'd sworn off water entirely."
Snape's expression, which had marginally softened at Orli's diplomatic recovery, hardened once more.
"If you devoted half as much energy to completing your dissertation as you do to such tedious observations, perhaps you'd stop publishing those infantile primers masquerading as serious potions texts."
The familiar venom was flowing freely now.
"Oh, you absolutely devastate me—infantile primers? You've just insulted Waters along with me!" Galland roared with laughter. "Right then, I'll leave you to it—mountains of arrangements to make. Do enjoy yourself, Waters~"
He sketched an absurdly theatrical bow, two fingers touching his brow in mock salute, before striding away with obvious amusement.
Orli watched his retreating figure for perhaps a heartbeat before Snape's voice cut through the air beside her:
"Fascinating viewing, is it? If you found his departure so regrettable, why not request an autograph? I'm certain he'd have provided writing materials with the greatest enthusiasm."
The acid was flowing in her direction now.
"I don't want his autograph," Orli said immediately, all dutiful innocence. "Professor, perhaps you'd give me yours instead?"
Snape turned to study her, clearly torn between exasperation and something else entirely. Despite his best efforts, the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
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