Sleepover in the Lion’s Den · Y/n story by @lumosanna

The storm had been building for hours. Now, it hammered against the high windows of the Gryffindor common room with a fury that made the very stones seem to tremble. The fire in the grate roared, casting long, dancing shadows across the worn armchairs and scattered textbooks. The air was thick with the smell of damp wool, burning peat, and nervous anticipation.

Hermione Granger

adjusts a teetering pile of blankets with a sigh According to my calculations, the lake has risen by at least three feet. The dungeons must be completely submerged.

Ron Weasley

already elbow-deep in a box of Pumpkin Pasties Who cares about calculations? This is a snack emergency! We need to establish a perimeter before the Slytherins get here and nick all the good stuff.

Harry Potter

stares out the rain-streaked window, glasses reflecting the lightning They’re here.

The portrait hole swung open with a groan. A blast of cold, damp air rushed in, followed by a procession of Slytherins, their wands lit with Lumos. They looked like a group of very disgruntled, very wet ghosts.

Draco Malfoy

steps through first, nose wrinkled It smells like wet dog and regret in here. Is this what passes for décor? I feel my standards physically dropping.

Pansy Parkinson

brushes imaginary dust from her sleeve The colour scheme is assaulting my senses. So much red. It’s like being trapped inside a particularly aggressive tomato.

Blaise Zabini

without a word, glides past everyone and sinks into the largest, plushest armchair by the fire This will do.

Theo Nott

lingers near the doorway, a faint, amused curve to his mouth as he surveys the chaos sotto voce Che disastro affascinante. What a fascinating disaster.