It is a magical hour - hiding from the sun, the giant squid glides smoothly to the bottom of the lake, a fire-breathing pig battles the Whomping Willow for a turnip, and Hagrid's singing roosters greet the sun in pitch-perfect harmony. Light has barely reached the tallest towers as the house elves, deep beneath the castle, begin to prepare breakfast for a thousand hungry students. Overseen by a bossy house elf, Bandie, long golden platters of food begin to fill and greasy frying pans fly overhead, headed to a soapy pool to clean themselves. A resounding clang rings through the kitchen and all eyes turn towards the source. A small, droopy-eared house elf looks stunned at the mess of half-cooked eggs he created.
"What a waste!" Bandie shouted, hopping off his footstool perch, "What have you to say for yourself-" he glances at the elfs faded nametag, "Jerry?"
"Have we butchered the chickens yet?" Jerry asked, smirking.
"Yes!" Bandie snapped, missing the humor, "Unluckily for the students!" he grunted, "Some poor soul will wake up today and not get a healthy serving of eggs! They will leave breakfast unsatisfied, which leads to distemper, which leads to distraction, which-" he inhaled sharply, "leads to a bad day of learning!" he drew himself to his full height of 2'5, "Have you any idea the immense consequences of what you've done, Jerry?"
Jerry was sobbing into his ill-fitting towel. The crowd of house elves returned to their work until a grease fire drove them into the icebox.
Murky sunlight flooded the small windows of the Slytherin dorm rooms, harshly illuminating the students, gradually forcing them out of bed to escape the burning light. The first Slytherin awake, Winston, wandered groggily into the common room. To his surprise and confusion, the usual plushy couches and and study desks which crowded the room were absent. He paced around the empty room, waiting to wake up - no such luck. A thump caused him to jump in fright - an apple had fallen onto the ground in the corner. Winston quickly identified its source. A bowl of fruit on a desk, which stood on a shaggy green carpet was suspended upside down on the ceiling, or rather, the floor. Though it took Winston a moment to realize, the entire common room was upside down, and he was currently walking on the ceiling. A note floated down from the floor. Neat scrawl stated in golden ink: "Courtesy of Gryffindor."
Winston turned his head toward the stairs, "Guys! You're not gonna believe this!"
A few hundred feet above the Slytherin common room, exhausted Gryffindors chuckled sleepily, leaning on eachother for support. They had been up most of the night carrying out their prank.
"N-nice one guys." a girl murmured, curling up on an armchair.
"Can't wait to *yawn* see their faces." mumbled a tall 7th year, dozing off against a pillar.
"It just occured to me," the ringleader yawned, "that we're gonna lose a lot of points for this."
"Maybe we shouldn't have signed it." a mousy boy suggested, wrapping his robes around him like a blanket.
As the sun just began to shine through the tower windows, the Gryffindors were falling fast asleep.
Over half the Gryffindor students were missing breakfast as the Hufflepuffs were beginning to tend their in-common room garden. Most Hufflepuffs sacrificed half their breakfast time every day to weed, pick, and prune their exotic garden which - having plants from all over the world, is extremely high maintenance. The quiet humming of students and the odd plants with vocal cords were snapped to attention by a shrill scream. A small first year was struggling in the mouth of a rare Venezuelan Crab Snapper.
"Oy! Could you help Wendy please, Stanford?" yelled a muscular, bald boy, not looking up from his hedge which he pruned in the shape of a unicorn. Stanford, a tall, lanky seventh year walked over to the half consumed girl and pulled her out by the footies.
After she stopped crying, he asked gently, "Are you okay?"
The girl nodded.
"Ah. I see the problem." Stanford said, tugging her lightly toward the growling plant. She followed reluctantly, "You snipped a claw, see, just here."
"I'm sorry." Wendy whispered, more to the plant than to Stanford.
"Just be careful with the clippers." Stanford said, winking.
The Hufflepuffs continued gardening without incident, though someone spilled dragon manure into a Flaming Pansy, abruptly dispersing the students.
The Hufflepuffs made their way down to the showers while the Ravenclaws bustled around their personal library. Professor Flitwick had declared a day of self-teaching, which, to the Ravenclaws excitement, meant they didn't have any classes, their meals were delivered straight to the common room, and best of all, no distractions. Students puttered happily around, plates piled high with toast and eggs in one hand, books concerning their own interests in the other. Small groups of friends whispered in hushed tones, discussing their book choices.
"Is that a Runes book, Karl?" asked a boy, leaning over his friend's shoulder.
"Yeah." Karl said, flipping the page.
"Isn't that sixth year material?" he asked.
Karl shrugged, "I guess."
All was quiet in the Ravenclaw common room, save a few quarrels over specific books. One disagreement got out of hand. Two 3rd years tug-of-warred over a copy of Potions in Pots: a History of Cauldrons. Tension was high, and every student had their wands drawn. When the dust settled, no one felt like or didn't have the hands to study anymore.
The professors ate happily, chatting among themselves. The Slytherins were sorting out their common room, the Gryffindors were asleep, the Hufflepuffs wouldn't be clean for a while, and the Ravenclaws crowded the hospital wing. They were quite alright with a day off.