The Amazing Adventures of a Hufflepuff Smart Mouth Chapter 4: Harry Potter and his Scar Senses, a harry potter fanfic

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER, OREOS, OR SPIDER MAN. THIS IS PROBABLY BEST FOR ALL OF US.

I owe a big thanks to Iryana, who has been so considerate as to beta this nonsense for me. I highly recommend the one-shot she wrote for the Bartimaeus Trilogy, called "In the Waiting."

FuzzBucket gets a cookie for reviewing, and Iryana and CaughtInTheMiddle both get five cookies for 1) reviewing, 2) knowing who Saint-Saens was, 3) where he was from, and 4) something he wrote. I would like to give many thanks and praises for those of you kind enough to review.

Ella, Owen, and I have a very bad New Year's tradition. We play "Truth or Dare." Is it stupid? Yes. Is it extremely unwise? Absolutely. Does it always produce spectacular results? Heck yes it does. In our first year, Ella somehow wound up dangling from a chandelier. She had to be levitated down by an exceedingly nervous Owen, who was the only one to have learned the spell, but had only mastered it the day before. Last year, Owen attempted to waltz with a rather affronted suit of armor. Turns out male suits of armor don't appreciate having to dance with other men. But how were we supposed to determine the gender of a suit of armor, really?

The game quickly evolved from "Truth or Dare" to "Dare, Otherwise You Will Be Teased For The Next Five Years For Being A Wimp." I think when we first began to play, Ella chose truth once or twice. (We couldn't think of anything more interesting to ask than "Who do you have a crush on?" Ella always responded "YOUR MUM!" and that was that.) At this point truth isn't really an option anymore. And besides, daring people is much more fun.

As third years, we have never had anything to do with Harry Potter. Everyone seems to assume, well, you go to Hogwarts, don't you? You must know Harry Potter! We certainly know who he is, but you see, we are but lowly Hufflepuff third years, and Harry Potter is a big Gryffindor sixth year. We cower in fear when the mighty sixth years walk by. We practically worship the scared ground the awesome sixth years tread upon. We kiss his feet as he walks by, his shoelaces are worshipped with reverence and...

Well…not really. My point is, I don't know the guy. But under the influence of homemade Mountain Dew and an enormous pile of Chocolate Frogs, we met Harry Potter in a very peculiar way.

"Ella's turn!" Owen shouted eagerly.

Ella rolled her eyes. "Bring it on," she challenged, striking a karate pose.

Owen grinned maniacally at her. "I dare you to…" He paused a moment, mockingly stroking his chin. "I dare you to run around the common room barefoot then lick your own foot!" I had to admit, it was a dastardly plot indeed. A wonderfully dastardly plot. I was almost disappointed that I hadn't thought of it myself.

Ella grimaced. "Deal. But I get to decide which foot."

"Deal," Owen agreed. Ella kicked off her trainers and yanked off her green-and-purple argyle socks. They weren't "standard" for Hogwarts uniform, per se, but it was the last day of break. She commenced running in circles around the Hufflepuff common room. She even threw in some wild shouting. Owen was laughing his head off.

Now, as you may or may not know, some very strange things go on in the Hufflepuff common room. I personally am not at liberty to tell you precisely what these things are, but let's just say that a short third-year running around without socks doesn't attract much attention. I'm also not at liberty to describe what the common room looks like, because since that wonderful lady who controls all our destinies, J. K. Rowling, hasn't revealed it yet, we are all under oath not to disclose that information. If we do, we become one of those nameless people who died in the battle at the end of Deathly Hallows. Yes, I know about Deathly Hallows. Can we get on with the story?

Ella ended her lap around the common room and plopped back in her chair. She scrutinized both feet and began licking her left one. She did this very nonchalantly, as if foot-licking was a noble hobby of British queens. Owen and I watched in a state of mixed fascination and shock.

"Erm…Ella, you can stop now," Owen said tentatively.

"Oh, but somebody spilled Oreo crumbs!" Ella protested. Seeing our expressions, she reluctantly put on her socks.

"Kevin's turn!" she declared. She thought for a moment. I saw a slightly deranged glint in her eye. (I mean, more deranged than the deranged glint that was normally there. If that glint ever went away, I'd probably take her to the hospital wing.) Ella whispered something to Owen, who began to giggle loudly. My suspicions rose dramatically. Very few things made Owen giggle. Admittedly, among those things that did were lava lamps and maraschino cherries. Long story.

They turned to me. "We dare you to go find Harry Potter," Ella announced.

"Harry Potter?" I parroted back, quite dumbstruck.

"Yes. And then you have to ask him if his scar senses are tingling," Owen added, still giggling.

I thought about it for a moment. It was crazy, it was stupid, it made me wish I'd never lent Ella Spider Man…in short, it was genius. "Deal," I said, standing. "Come on."

Ella and Owen looked at each other for a moment, then back at me, grinning from ear to ear. They followed me out of the common room. I, of course, had no idea where to look for Harry Potter. It didn't take me long to realize how big Hogwarts really is. Its sheer size makes finding one particular person a very difficult task. I wish someone would make a map of the school that told you where everyone was. It should have the locations of the secret passages too.

"Where do you think he would be?" Ella asked.

"I dunno. I see Hermione in the library a lot," Owen offered.

"Maybe he sneaks down to the kitchens!" I exclaimed, in one of my not-so-rare bouts of idiocy.

"I don't think he'd be flying in the snow, do you?" Typical Owen. He needs to stop being so—logical.

"He's probably in the common room. I don't know where Gryffindor's is, though."

"Someone told me it was in the dungeons under the lake."

"That's the Slytherins."

"Yeah, well, maybe he's in the Slytherin common room!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Maybe he's running around the Slytherin common room naked and licking his feet."

Eventually, we decided to wait for dinner. We spent the entire meal waiting to see when he would leave so we could follow him. I had no idea anyone could eat that much treacle tart. I mean, that stuff is nasty to begin with. How can you possibly eat three servings of it?

Mr. Chosen Boy Who Lived To Eat The World's Supply Of Treacle Tart finished his dinner and headed out of the Great Hall, flanked by his two friends. We followed him, in super-stealth mode. Owen was humming James Bond music under his breath. Just to annoy him, I started humming Mozart. Don't ask me why I know Mozart. I'm not secretly a violin prodigy, or anything, in case you wondered. I do play a mean Bach solo, though...

Potter stopped to tie his shoes. Ella shoved me toward him, causing me to stumble. Mr. Hairy-Eyebrows looked up at the stupid third year who apparently couldn't balance properly on two perfectly fine feet.

"Erm…Harry Potter?" I asked, feeling tentative and awkward, possibly for the first time in my life. He looked at me apprehensively, and nodded, really slowly. He was afraid of me, I could tell. Couldn't blame the guy, rabid fangirls tackling him daily and whatnot.

"Are your scar sense tingling?" I asked, in a weird mixture of tentativeness and obnoxiousness. He looked really concerned, angry, and confused. Like when you find a huge hairball on your pillow, but don't have a cat.

"How the hell do you know about that?" Mr. Teenage Angst asked.

"Uhh…" Really articulate, me. I glared angrily at Ella, and the sight of her evilly gleeful face inspired me. "Ella did it!" I screeched. I know, I'm very gentlemanly, aren't I? I fled, which seemed to be the wisest thing to do at that moment.

"JERK!" Ella screamed, as she began pursuing me. I imagine we left Harry to forever wonder what had just happened.

I raced through the school, with a very offended girl on my heels. At some point Peeves decided to join in the fun; he procured some Dungbombs from somewhere and started pelting them at me. Ella was shouting something about what she would do to my entrails after she had burned them and nailed them to a tree. I swear, I have no idea where she gets this vulgarity from. I turned a corner, hoping to throw her off. Instead, I ran full-speed into an unsuspecting Professor McGonagall. Ella crashed into me, and threw us all to the ground. Peeves brought up the rear, blowing raspberries. We immediately began shouting at each other.

"JERK!"

"You dared me!"

"JERK!"

"What was I supposed to say…?"

"JERK!"

"Foot licker!"

"Owen dared me!"

"Foot licker!"

"IT TASTED GOOD, OKAY?"

I laughed. Ella socked me. I don't know where she learned to punch like that. I know I wasn't stupid enough to teach her. I pulled her hair in retaliation, and she smacked me hard across the face. Professor McGonagall was shouting something at Peeves, who in turn began to pelt her with more Dungbombs.

Owen came running in.

"I HAD WAFFLES FOR BREAKFAST!" he felt an odd urge to declare. That shut us all up, including Professor McGonagall, who had been berating us about running in the halls. Ella and I had stopped mid-fight to stare at him. She was yanking my ear and I had a fistful of her hair. Professor McGonagall regained her senses and immediately gave us a week of detentions. I wore my best and most infamous I-am-meek-and-humble look. Owen, while not as adept as I at the art, also wore a very convincing I-am-meek-and-humble look. Ella was shaking either out of rage or a strong desire to laugh.

I will not shout in the halls.

I will not chase other students in the halls.

I will not ask Harry Potter if his scar senses are tingling.

"How many times do we have to write this?" Ella asked. (Again.) We were in detention, with an exceptionally stiff cat watching us.

"One hundred fifty," Owen replied in a whisper, thoroughly exasperated. "Can't you just write that down somewhere so you remember?"

"No," Ella replied obstinately. She started humming the Spider Man song under her breath.

If you liked it, please review. If you didn't like it, please review telling me why. I will give a large amount of cookies to anyone (besides Iryana) who can guess what piece I'm playing that was written by Saint-Saens that is currently driving me insane. Hint: The answer is hidden in another one of my stories.