The Common Room had never looked like this.

Four fireplaces crackled in harmony, flames shifting between scarlet, gold, blue, and green as if arguing politely with one another. Someone—probably Flitwick—had expanded the room three times its usual size, because there was no way this many students fit here otherwise.

James Potter was already sprawled upside-down on the arm of a couch, boots hooked over the back, grinning as Sirius Black dramatically reenacted a Quidditch match using a flying cushion.

“And then—” Sirius spun, arms wide, nearly smacking Peter Pettigrew in the face, “—I dodged the Bludger with style, grace, and devastating good looks.”

“You fell off your broom,” Remus Lupin said calmly from his seat near the fire, book open, eyes amused over the top of the page.

“Temporarily,” Sirius shot back.

Peter snorted into his goblet. Frank Longbottom, seated nearby with Alice Fortescue, laughed quietly while Gideon and Fabian Prewett loudly debated whether Sirius’s story improved or worsened with each retelling.

“It worsens,” Molly Prewett said flatly, arms crossed. “It improves,” Arthur Weasley countered cheerfully. “It becomes fiction,” Lily Evans added, not even looking up from where she and Mary McDonald were transfiguring napkins into hopping frogs for fun.

Marlene McKinnon leaned back in her chair, boots propped on a table. “I give it five more minutes before something explodes.”

As if on cue—

A POP echoed from the Ravenclaw side.

Xenophillius Lovegood blinked at the smoke drifting from his wand. “Ah. Must’ve been a Wrackspurt resonance.”

“No, that was a miscast Charm,” Mafalda Hopkirk corrected crisply, already taking notes. “But fascinating attempt.”

Sybil Trelawney gasped softly, clutching her teacup. “The flames whisper of chaos tonight…”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Rita Skeeter said, scribbling furiously in her notebook anyway. “But do go on.”

Ebony Whitlow rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t detach.

Across the room, the Slytherin cluster was… noticeably quieter.

Lucius Malfoy stood with perfect posture, silver-blond hair immaculate, speaking in low tones with Narcissa and Andromeda Black. Bellatrix lounged nearby like a coiled spring, boots on the armrest, eyes gleaming with barely-contained energy.

“This is dull,” Bellatrix muttered. “Not everything needs to end in chaos,” Regulus Black replied coolly from his seat, hands folded, gaze thoughtful as he observed the room.

Severus Snape sat slightly apart, dark eyes sharp as he watched James and Sirius with thinly veiled disdain. When James caught his look and smirked, Severus’s fingers tightened around his goblet.

Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange murmured together, while Antonin Dolohov leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes tracking everything. The Carrow twins—Amycus and Alecto—snickered quietly at something only they found amusing.

Emmeline Vance, seated between Houses like she belonged everywhere and nowhere, raised her voice. “Can we not hex each other for one night?”

Dorcas Meadows lifted her cup in agreement from the Hufflepuff side. “Seconded.”