Most of its JKR's
Chapter 3
The church clock in the village was just striking 6 as the door of number 8, Ashcroft Road, rattled on his hinges. At the third chime, there was a shrill voice outside the door: 'No, Ron, TURN the key!', followed by more rattling, a scuffle, and a brown haired girl swinging the door open.
Inside, it was not dissimilar to the Dursleys' house (though whether this made Harry more or less at home was entirely another question). The hall was narrow, with stairs to the left, padded in a floral carpet (which Ron rudely wrinkled his nose at), and a door to the right passing into a large open living room. The front of the house held a sitting area, with two sofas and an armchair and a TV; behind it was an oval table and chairs and a white, shiny kitchen.
"Bedrooms upstairs" said Harry, nodded his head to the rooms up the stairs.
"This'll be us" he added, finding a small twin room, and throwing his rucksack onto one of the beds ("I wanted the window!" whinged Ron), and Hermione did likewise into a small, cupboard-sized room, with a bed, a small table and a bookshelf in.
Whilst she was unpacking her small bag, and Ron was dragging his and her cases up the stairs, Harry wandered round the rest of the floor (which didn't take long at all) – the only other rooms were a bathroom ("nice rug" snickered Ron at the bathmat) and a three-bed room. "I wonder who we'll be sharing with?" pondered Harry aloud, to which came a worried response from Hermione's cupboard:
"I've been thinking about that too, and I don't like it at all. They're going to have to spread the pure-bloods around, so obviously the houses are going to be mixed. We've already got the two muggle-raised, so where are our roommates probably going to come from?" She raised an eyebrow.
As the light dawned on Harry, the panic began to spread across his face, but suddenly, his grimace was interrupted by a shout from the lounge.
"Harry! Harry!"
"Ron, I'm busy – hang on!"
"No, Harry, Hermione, come here right away!"
"Ron, if this is just another spider I'll-" muttered Harry as the two traipsed downstairs, but he paused as he saw what Ron was pointing at. There, in front of the fireplace was a "Midlands Moths" sports bag, a lumpy brown holdall and a glossy, charcoal leather suitcase, with a monogrammed tag.
"I think I can guess who our housemates are" said Ron, gloomily, when at that moment, they heard a demanding knock from the door.
Ron ambled over to open it, and was greeted by a long drawl:
"Doorman? Have you been promoted, Weasley? I knew something like this would happen, Heckler's always talking about 'integration' and all that democracy tosh he gets from that comic he reads-"
"The Guardian isn't a comic, Malfoy, it's a very well respected Mug-"
"Oh do shut up Granger, no-one cares, and put the tea on"
At this, Ron lunged at him, but tripped over Malfoy's monogrammed rucksack to fall, flat and embarrassed, at the quarrelling duo's feet. Hermione immediately bent down to help pick him up, and dragged him over to the kitchen to make him a pot of tea.