"Come on, Ron, run faster!" Oren urged.
Ron staggered along behind them with a pile of bundles on his back and a crate of Butterbeer in his hands.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Oren, stop rushing him. Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks has already stolen his soul."
"Tsk."
Thinking of that middle-aged witch who could only be described as still having her charms, Oren sighed. "Ron really must be starving."
As they passed through the Hogwarts gates, the Dementors on either side saw Oren approaching. Though they floated in the air, it was obvious they suddenly floated much straighter.
"Faster, Ron. Oh, we missed it again. I still won't get used to these damned moving staircases in a hundred years."
Mule Weasley, following behind the two of them, rolled his eyes. Did they not see how much he was carrying? Even a landlord's donkey couldn't haul this much stuff.
"Whew, I'm exhausted," Hermione said.
Back in the common room, Oren and Hermione threw themselves onto the sofa.
"And you two have the nerve to say you're tired? You have no shame at all," poor, weak, helpless Ron muttered from the side.
"Harry, what did you do today?" Hermione asked.
"I ran into Professor Lupin. He even invited me for tea, until the old bat came in carrying a cup of purple bubbling mystery liquid."
"Snape wasn't trying to poison him, was he? Did he drink it?" Ron asked in surprise.
"He did. I almost thought he was about to be poisoned to death, but luckily he pulled through. Looked like he only lost half his life."
Oren rubbed his nose. "That potion must have worked really well, or Professor Lupin wouldn't have drunk it."
"Who knows?" Harry shook his head. "But the cost of that potion seemed a little