Doomed
It was a usual evening in the Gryffindor common room: Hermione was studying, Harry was sulking, Fred and George were doing something hazardous, illegal, and highly amusing, and the occupations of everyone else don't really matter.
Suddenly the portrait of the Fat Lady sprang open and a panting redhead entered the room.
"You-Know-Who knows about the You-Know-What taken from You-Know-Where by You-Know-Whom!" Ron shouted.
"What?" George exclaimed from the far side of the room. "McGonagall knows that it were us who took those five boxes of Ginger Newts from under her bed?"
"We are so doomed," Fred muttered darkly.