McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall pursed her lips. She was dressed in a tartan nightgown, her dark hair was loose, and she had been disturbed from a thoroughly restful sleep. The portraits of witches and wizards long past had sent Sir Nicholas to wake her because her Gryffindor students were keeping them awake.

They're portraits, Minerva had fumed as she pulled on her dressing gown. Why in Merlin's name do they need to sleep?

But nevertheless she had climbed from her first floor office to Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor. It was almost two o'clock in the morning and the party showed no signs of stopping, despite the number of students asleep on the furniture. Minerva stood in the entrance of the common-room, unseen by the party-goers, until she set off a firecracker from her wand.

'Bed! All of you!' She ordered, much to the displeasure of the older students. She wondered how many times over the years that she had ignored the bottles of Butterbeer that always ended up in her house common-room after a Quidditch victory. I must remember to talk to Albus about those house-elves.

Minerva was reminded of a time when she had been one of those celebrating with the rest of Gryffindor house, a chaser on the house team before her injuries forced her to stop. But now she separated one of the current Gryffindor chasers, Kath Hunter, from the seeker, Richard Rawlins, and sent them up to bed. Their own beds, she stressed as they slunk up the spiral staircase to the dormitories.

Scanning the room she herded a number of first years up the staircase, including a zombie-like Charlie Weasley who could barely put one foot in front of the other. She woke another first year, Fergus Finnegan, from where he slept on the sofa. Someone had charmed his hair bright green. It always amused Minerva, the creativeness of the students, and she always wished that they would put the same level of effort into their studies that they did into their pranks on each other. A number of examples stood out regarding failed potential.

'Where are the prefects?' she asked a fourth year, Hiddleston, who was actually on Minerva's list of potential prefects for the following year.

Hiddleston shrugged, 'Savage is upstairs stuck to his bed, and I've not seen Jones for a few hours, professor.'

That figures. She finished ushering students upstairs; they just kept appearing from the corners of the room in various states of drunkenness. Bill Weasley wandered up to his dorm, a fuzzy smile on his face, supported by Kirley McCormack. How that boy managed to be doing twelve O.W.L. subjects and still find time to have a social life was a mystery to Minerva. She sincerely hoped that he wouldn't squander his opportunity, given the amount of work she had done to acquire a time-turner for him.

Once the common-room had been emptied of its occupants Minerva checked each dormitory for the right number of occupants. She shooed a few of the girls from the boys' rooms and eventually found that only a handful of students were still missing. With a sigh Minerva headed back out of the portrait hole. She asked the Fat Lady, eagerly assisted by her friend Violet, which way any students had gone and quickly flushed them out of the disused classrooms and broom cupboards they had taken refuge in.

Her most surprising find was Gwenog Jones and the Hufflepuff captain, Phillip Spinks, in one of Filch's cleaning cupboards. That would be an interesting point of discussion with Pomona in the morning. It's already morning, she reminded herself as she sent Spinks packing down the Grand Staircase.

After ensuring that the Fat Lady would make note of any student leaving their dormitory before breakfast, Minerva thankfully headed back down the Grand Staircase back to bed. She passed a portrait of Bertie Bott who snored loudly as she passed. Minerva found herself thinking back, once more, to her own days at Hogwarts, when Bertie Bott had been one of her classmates, not a world-famous chocolate and sweet pioneer. Such thoughts led Minerva onto her plans for the following day where she and Rolanda were planning on spending the day with Rosmerta in Hogsmeade; the three had been good friends in the same year at school.

Minerva shrugged off her dressing gown and placed her glasses beside her wand on the bedside table. The temperature had dropped since she had left the room, so she wrapped herself in an old blanket beneath her patched duvet, planning lessons for the coming week until she drifted off to sleep.