““Hermione climbed into the common room carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box whose contents rattled as she walked in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purring. “Hello,” she said, “I’ve just finished!” “So have I!” said Ron triumphantly, throwing down his quill. Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair, and pulled Ron’s predictions toward her. “Not going to have a very good month, are you?” she said sardonically as Crookshanks curled up in her lap. “Ah well, at least I’m forewarned,” Ron yawned. “You seem to be drowning twice,” said Hermione. “Oh am I?” said Ron, peering down at his predictions. “I’d better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff.” “Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’re made these up?” said Hermione. “How dare you!” said Ron, in mock outrage. “We’ve been working like house-elves here!” Hermione raised her eyebrows. “It’s just an expression,” said Ron hastily. Harry laid down his quill too, having just finished predicting his own death by decapitation.””