Harry Potter and the Sorceress of the Stars

"…and that about covers everything you'll need to know for the upcoming year," said the bespectacled boy, whose name unfortunately still eluded Oleandra. "Any questions?"

Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor, Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw, and Oleandra Greengrass of Slytherin— the sixth-year prefects were all present for their pre-year meeting with the Head Boy and Girl, save for Draco Malfoy.

Inevitably, Hermione raised her hand, prompting Oleandra to roll her eyes behind the other girl's back— the thought of being made to listen to the new Head Boy and Girl for even one more minute was beginning to make her seriously consider casting a Deafening Curse on herself. Both Head Boy and Girl were Ravenclaws, and to make matters worse, they seemed to be competing over the title of most long-winded.

"I was just wondering," Hermione began, nudging Ron in the ribs, since he'd very clearly begun nodding off. "About these new patrol schedules and these new rules which we're supposed to enforce…"

The new Head Girl, whose name (Gwawrddydd) was utterly unpronounceable to the average Englishman, launched into a lengthy and tedious explanation about the alterations to the school rules— which Oleandra was thankfully spared from enduring, when a nervous-looking third-year girl knocked at the prefects' compartment's glass-panelled door.

Without waiting for an answer, the girl slid the door open and quickly dipped inside.

"Enter," said Gwawrddydd sarcastically, obviously irritated over the interruption.

"But she's already inside," said Ernie Macmillan obliviously, which earned him a scowl from the Head Girl.

The third-year girl briefly scanned the room, but as soon as she met Oleandra's gaze, she swayed slightly. For a moment, it seemed to Oleandra as though the girl's knees might give out from under her, but thankfully, she somehow managed to stand firm.

"L-l-letter for you," the girl stammered, her face turning a particularly vivid shade of crimson. "Y-your eyes only!"

"You'd make for a great owl," said Oleandra playfully. "Your timing is impeccable."

The girl turned a deeper shade of red and babbled an incoherent response, before shoving a rolled-up parchment into Oleandra's hands and then practically running out of the compartment.

Oleandra pulled on the purple ribbon fastening the scroll and unfurled the piece of parchment, and then she began reading its message, which had been written in loopy cursive letters:

Oleandra,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely,

Professor H.E.F. Slughorn

"What does it say?" asked Ron curiously.

"It's an invitation to lunch from our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," responded Oleandra, as she jumped to her feet. "And it just so happens that I was getting a bit peckish…"

Thankfully, it was not Oleandra's stomach which chose to growl at that precise moment, but Ron's. The Head Boy's and Girl's tedious explanations had taken up the better part of the hour leading up to noon, and Ron's hunger had been the only thing that had kept him from falling asleep.

"We might as well end things here," said Gwawrddydd, checking her watch. "Shall we, Tolliver?"

"Right," said the Head Boy, who was apparently named Tolliver. "Ah, and Oleandra— would you mind passing on the Slytherin common room's passphrase to Mr. Malfoy?"

Oleandra had no intention of doing so unless Draco himself apologised to her for skipping out on his prefect duties. To obtain access to the common room, he'd either have to put aside his pride and ask one of the five other Slytherin prefects for the password, or he'd have to wait until Oleandra finished giving the first-years a tour of the castle after the start-of-term banquet.

Having lost her way countless times in the first week of her first year at Hogwarts, and having received no help whatsoever from older Slytherins, Oleandra had taken it upon herself to become a better prefect than her predecessors.

…

And so, with the Head Boy and Girl having finished with their presentation, the sixth-year prefects' compartment began emptying itself, as its occupants exited one by one— to either go on patrol or to meet up with friends. Oleandra, for one, was planning to go shout at Malfoy— it wasn't fair that she had to sit through the list of new rules and regulations, while Mister Draco Malfoy got to enjoy his train ride in the lap of luxury!

"Would you mind waiting for a moment, Oleandra?" said Susan Bones timidly, just as Oleandra was about to leave. "I just wanted to thank you for saving my aunt, Amelia. I don't have many family members left, so we're rather close-knit— so, I suppose, what I'm trying to say is, er… we're all very grateful… and I'm sorry I doubted you and your sister last year."

"You're, er… welcome," said Oleandra, who wasn't very used to gratitude from people she wasn't especially close to. "It's all water under the bridge now, anyway."

Following an awkward pause— neither of the girls knew the other well enough to exchange well wishes or pleasantries— Oleandra excused herself, using Professor Slughorn's invitation as an excuse, and she headed for the compartment Malfoy's gang usually occupied…

…only to discover that she hadn't been the only one to come up with the idea.

"D'you have some business with Malfoy?" Oleandra asked Ron and Hermione. "Or are you just browsing?"

Startled by Oleandra's voice, Ron backed up into Hermione, who let out a surprised squeal. Oleandra had just caught them trying to angle themselves in such a way that they would be able to peer through the compartment door's transparent glass panel, without allowing the compartment's occupants to notice them.

"It was just a quick peek," said Hermione embarrassedly, pushing Ron away a little more brusquely than she'd meant to. "We were just wondering why he hadn't shown up the meeting."

"Your curiosity wouldn't have anything to do with Malfoy's left arm, would it?" Oleandra deduced.

Harry had written her a letter asking for her help in uncovering the mystery, but Oleandra hadn't given it much thought— Death Eater or not, she had never really considered Draco to be much of a threat. He was mean-spirited to be sure, but he lacked the guts to do anything but bluster.

"Do you know something?" Ron asked eagerly. "We reckon he might have replaced his dad as a Death Eater."

"Haven't the foggiest," said Oleandra, glancing through the panel at Malfoy, who was resting his head on Pansy's lap.

Oleandra clicked her tongue irritably.

Just looking at the blonde-haired boy's smug face was enough to make her lose interest in their upcoming confrontation. She'd berate him later— she figured there was no use in losing her appetite, by getting into an argument with him right before lunch…