Gryffindor · Y/n story by @dinosauronaboat

The Gryffindor common room was warm, bathed in the soft orange glow of the fireplace. A cluster of students sprawled across the worn armchairs and sofas, homework abandoned in laps, conversations low and lazy.

Hermione Granger

frowning at a thick book I still think there's something off about the Transfiguration essay. McGonagall said fourteen inches, but that can't be right for the theory portion...

Ron Weasley

sprawled upside down on an armchair, eyes closed Hermione, it's nearly ten. Give it a rest.

Harry Potter

grinning tiredly She's got a point, though. Mine's only eleven so far.

Ron Weasley

Show-offs. Both of you.

A few feet away, Fred and George were hunched over something suspicious near the window, whispering. Lee Jordan kept glancing over, stifling laughs.

Seamus Finnigan

bolting upright from the floor Bleedin' hell—what IS that?

Dean Thomas

wrinkling his nose Someone step on a damn skunk?

Neville, who'd been dozing near the fire, woke with a snort and immediately gagged.

Neville Longbottom

eyes watering That's... that's not a skunk.

Ginny Weasley

pinching her nose It smells like something died. pauses Something that died a while ago.

Fred Weasley

standing up, a wicked grin spreading across his face Now, now. Let's not jump to conclusions.

George Weasley

nudging Fred Could be something far more... ordinary.

Both twins turned slowly, dramatically, to stare at the old pink couch shoved against the far wall. The one everyone avoided because its cushions sagged like a tired hippogriff.

Lee Jordan

tossing a pillow at them Don't you dare blame the couch.

Hermione Granger

closing her book with a sharp snap Honestly, what is that smell? It's like rotten eggs and cabbage and... she trails off, eyes widening

A collective sniff. A grimace rippled through the room.