Chirp, chirp, chirp!
Lazy sunlight spilled across the open windowsill on the third floor of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
Several sparrows swooped down from the sky, slipped into Hedwig's cage hanging by the windowsill, and pecked at the scraps of food inside.
The two boys sleeping in the third-floor bedroom could take it no longer. In perfect sync, they rolled over to face the wall and each pulled the covers over his head.
But less than ten minutes later, urgent knocking forced them out of their comfortable slumber.
"Harry, Ron, get up!"
The knocking outside grew more insistent, and the two boys in bed could no longer pretend not to hear it.
Harry let out an irritated groan and violently threw back his covers. The Butterbeer bottles piled on his bedside table were knocked to the floor with a clatter.
Ron finally sat up as well. His mouth hung open as he stared listlessly at the banging door, a glistening trail of drool still dangling from the corner of his mouth.
Click—
"Ugh!"
The door opened, and the mingled, complicated stench rushing at her nearly suffocated Hermione. She hurriedly covered her mouth, while Ginny behind her wrinkled her upturned nose in disgust.
"Couldn't you at least clean up?"
Seeing beer bottles scattered all over the floor and half-eaten food everywhere, leaving practically nowhere to step, Hermione cried out in disgust.
"Did you lose your memory, Hermione?"
Harry yawned lazily and flopped back onto his bed.
"This wasn't just Ron and me. You and Ginny had a hand in it too, didn't you?"
"Well, even so, you two should at least clean up—"
Hermione's cheeks reddened, but her momentum immediately surged again.
"Get up, both of you! Mrs. Weasley told us to come down for breakfast. We've got a mountain of