Chapter Eleven: Muggle Movies

Still laughing over the incident with Riley, Ron and Harry returned to the common room, where Hermione was pouring over the book she had bought that morning.

"How was Quidditch practice?" she asked, not bothering to look up.

"Brilliant," Ron said, flopping down in a chair. Harry beamed and fought not to squirm with pleasure at Ron's praise. "Harry pulled a prank on Riley. Freaked her out completely." Hermione looked up, curious.

"She'd noticed me acting different, and she assumed I liked Ron. Well, you know, I couldn't just tell her I liked Ron. I had to explain it. But first, I had a little fun with it." Harry explained the prank, a huge smile on his face. When he'd finished talking, Hermione smiled.

"Bet she loved that. You'd better watch it, though. She's American. Americans are really big on seeking revenge, and all that. They watch too many movies. I'd watch my back for a while," she advised. Ron frowned.

"What's a movie?" he asked. Harry and Hermione snorted and rolled their eyes. It wasn't Ron's fault that he was completely clueless about the Muggle world, but it was still amusing.

As Hermione began to explain the concept of a movie, Harry opened his bag and pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill. Snickering at the very confused look on Ron's face, Harry began to write.

Dear Remus,

I hope you're enjoying your work. The students certainly are enjoying their work. Defense Against the Dark Arts, anyway. Our new professor is SO hot! I just want to jump her every time she walks past me. And now we're on first-name terms. I think she really digs me. I've been getting much better grades…Perhaps that has to do something with it. Of course, Ron's really jealous. You wouldn't believe the stuff he says in his sleep! He needs a censor or something! Anyway, just wanted to check up on you, see what was going on over there. Have a good Christmas!

Harry

Cackling evilly, Harry excused himself and headed for the Owlery to send off the letter. Checking his watch, he quickened his pace as he turned a corner and headed up the stairs. Fifth years and up were allowed to be out of their dorms until nine, but it was almost eight fifty.

As he rounded another corner, Harry passed Professor Wilkins'—Tory's, Harry corrected himself—office. The door was cracked, and he could hear Tory's angry voice speaking.

"I'm telling you, Severus, I sensed something!" she was saying. Harry froze and hovered next to the door, listening. "And don't tell me that I was imagining it, because you and I both know that you don't mistake the stench of a potion!"

Professor Snape muttered a reply, but he was too quiet for Harry to understand him.

"I have no idea! I'm not as experienced as you are. I can't tell the difference between a sleeping drought and a Drought of Death."

More Snape murmuring.

"I want you to…I dunno…just walk past him or something and tell me what you sense! I'm telling you, Severus, this is serious. What if Potter doesn't even know there's a potion? That could prove to be the death of the Boy-Who-Lived."

Snape murmured a response.

"Thanks, Sev," Tory muttered. Footsteps moved toward the door. Harry sprang away and dashed down the hall as quietly as possible before he got caught.

Harry sent his letter and returned to the Common Room, all the while contemplating what he had heard. He would definitely have to tell Hermione. It would be bad for the teachers to get involved. Not to mention embarrassing. But when he stepped into the Common Room, he saw that both Ron and Hermione had gone to bed. He had quietly slipped into the boys' dorm, changed, and crawled into bed when he heard a familiar voice.

"Harry?" Harry's stomach twisted.

"Yeah, Ron?"

"What's a movie?"