As you may have noticed, there are more than 50 reviews for this (thanks to everyone who has, by the way!). Just like I did for the 50th, the 100th reviewer will get a chance to choose a prompt.
Smell
The war was, if possible, more evident at the Burrow than the office. The clock would have been hard not to notice; they had formed a habit of glancing quickly at its face checking that all hands were safely positioned. Now, of course, they pointed straight up to twelve-o'clock and the inscription "Mortal peril;" beyond that were the hurrying cloaked figures, the all-too-necessary wards, and the constant aura of fear.
Walking up the garden path, Arthur caught a familiar aroma on the breeze and smiled, despite everything; whatever happened, Molly and her cooking were dependably ready to welcome him home.