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Kept in perpetual darkness split only by eyes accustomed to the dark, wand-lighting charms, and tiny, glowing, wispy orbs which bob about the room, the Thestral Thicket reflects the mysterious yet gentle nature of this invisible harbinger. Black walnut makes up the wood of the entering door; a door which reveals itself only to the rightful inhabitants of the dorm. This same dark wood also makes up the bed frames, drawers, and panelling. Framing the narrow windows about the dormitory are shaded silver curtains which give the appearance of bat-like wings. Likewise, the bedsheets, too, are this same style: silver and trimmed with black. And if one desires privacy and solitude from the rest of the dormitory, black velvet curtains may be pulled about the bunk to leave the individual in peace.

When using additional light to look upon more features of the Thicket, one may discover that shadows play tricks upon the eyes. Those familiar with death, or those who have witnessed death firsthand, may recognize the shadows as imitations of the magical Thestral. Those unfamiliar with these experiences, however, may only see a four-legged, skeletal creature with glowing white eyes—and for only a split second—before it vanishes without a trace of its brief presence.

To honor the creature’s connection with death, this dormitory celebrates a special event during the same time as the traditional Day of the Dead: October 31 to November 2nd. This event is often referred to by the same name, though if one really cares to know the true name of the event, it is “Non Fine”, or “Not the End”. On these days, the dormitory celebrates the lives of people close to them, living and dead, and may create small shrines to honor these people, decorating them with items of importance or emotional value, food, and candles. Stories may be told, true or tall tales alike, and memories of these people are recalled in perfect detail, whether by personal concentration or perhaps because of the magic of the event itself.

On November 3rd, these shrines vanish entirely, along with every gift and offering which had been laid upon it, supposedly ferried to the one that the shrine had been dedicated to. If one allows themselves to feel closure or acceptance, this dormitory can be comforting… perhaps the most calming place in all of Hogwarts castle if the meaning of the atmosphere and the intentions of the creature is fully understood.

The crackling of lightning heralds the entrance into this lioness den. Home of the vigilant and victorious, nothing escapes the gaze of the golden thunderbird statue mounted overhead the threshold to the main body of the dormitory. Reflecting the nature of storm and hurricane, the room itself carries with it a stormy appearance which harkens to the sentinel nature of its patron creature: the bedsheets and the bedposts themselves carry a distressed and rugged look to them; the windows are framed by tastefully tattered curtains in shades of white and gold; and ambient sounds of thunderous or rainy weather fills the room. A thin layer of mist floats about the dormitory, bringing with it the scent of a recent rainfall—perfect for concentration or studying.

When a thunderstorm or snowstorm approaches Hogwarts castle, the usually invisible, pencil-thin feather carvings on the four walls begin to glow with white and gold, revealing a larger than life Thunderbird whose multiple wings circle all four walls. When lightning from said storm begins to flash, the carved thunderbird moves subtly, its beak open in a silent screech as it flutters with life-like appeal, amber eyes glittering with determination. This animated thunderbird persists until the storm ends or until the worst of the potential danger of storm passes, after which time the bird gradually slows its movements and its glowing feathers dim and return to the former, inanimate carvings.

Outside the event of a thunderstorm, this dormitory is cool and serenely unassuming, almost even boring at times. Yet, there is one more curious happening which occurs within this dormitory in early May. During this time, Thunderbird Town’s decor changes slightly into Native American grandeur to reflect the culture which the Thunderbird is most sacred to, including: beaded blankets, small and colorful totem animals of the thunderbird, small dancing hoops, and several drums and feather costumes. There is no official name for this event, but during this time, the Thunderbird carvings become perpetually animate in shades of blue, amber, gold, and silver, seeming to dance about the room in time with the beating of the ceremonial drums and the usage of the hoops for the students’ own dances.

The undying spirit of the wampus and its warrior nature calls to the unconquerable hero. The door of this dormitory is held in the six golden claws of a wampus, and can only be opened by unlatching each of the six latches and then pushing the door inward. Those who pass across the threshold often cite feeling as though they are being watched, as though invisible eyes are looking through them to their very core. Entering into the dormitory room itself, the individual finds themselves stepping out of the mouth of a wampus in order to behold the home of the discerning and the athletic.

Daylight shines in through the single window on the far side of the dormitory, and gentle deposits of quartz and stone reminiscent of mountain slopes can be found in the corners of the room and on each of the six bronze clawed feet of the beds. Along the walls are multiple kinds of decorative weapons—short swords, bows and their quivers, spears, bo staffs, axes, kamas, maces, and spiked chain—none of them practical for fighting use. They are as unbalanced as they are dulled, will only do as much harm as a theatre weapon. Instead of animated pictures, the skins of game animals hang over beds and window, and trophies of teeth, bones, and tails can be found scattered throughout.

There are two traditions which take place in this hunter’s hall once every three months: “The Hunt”, which takes place on the night of the first quarter moon; and “Night of the Wildcat”, which takes place on the night of the last quarter moon.

On Night of the Wildcat, the dormitory gains a brazier in the centre of the room. In a strange parallel to the notorious Triwizard Tournament’s Goblet of Fire, individuals write their names on a slip of parchment and then place it into the brazier to be considered. At the stroke of midnight, an incorporeal wampus emerges from the brazier’s flame. Speaking in a voice of thunder, it offers thanks to those bold enough to submit their names and tells those present that it will sleep on its decision with the turn of the moon, and return again at the first quarter with a final decision for their roles in the upcoming event: The Hunt.

On the night of The Hunt, under the light of the first quarter moon, the brazier once again lowers from the ceiling, the incorporeal wampus revealing itself amidst the low burning flames. The rolling of an avalanche returns as it expels the slips of paper from its mouth, each named for the one who had submitted it. Hidden from the eyes of the other inhabitants, students may read their chosen role before commencing the game and the Hunt—a social deduction game played to the same rules as Werewolf—begins.

This dorm is marked by a heavy oaken door with barred spying window flanked by two bronze kneazle statues sitting upon their haunches. Eyes of piercing blue quartz that stare broodily up at any who approach, appearing just as scrutinizing and judgmental of strangers as their namesakes. Lauded for their lofty intelligence and known to be highly suspicious creatures, the Kneazle Nest is arguably one of Gryffindor's best guarded dorms.

Any who seek to pass into its confines are required to pass a trial. True to the nature of a kneazle—known for their often uncanny ability to identify suspicious activity and scope out inconsistencies—students seeking entrance would be presented with a pair of images materializing upon the surface of the door. And only for those whose names are carved upon the frame of the door is the opportunity given, such that students from other dorms seeking entrance must be escorted by a kneazle inhabitant or be provided passage from within. In order to pass the threshold, scrutiny of these pictures is paramount in order to identify where they differ. Only once all inconsistencies were announce, would the door release, and be permitted to swing inwards.

The most apt descriptor of the Kneazle Nest is cosy, for that is exactly what it is designed to be. The floor of the room is a carpet made of a luxurious cotton-wool mix, its colouration that of the noble and mighty house of Gryffindor with vibrant reds and glorious golds. The patterns are a mix, in some parts forming lions rampant, in others, kneazles. Yet, others are seemingly nonsense, comprised of spirals, stars and other forms that merge together in deceptively elegant links. However, it is not the appearance of the carpet that draws attention from those who call the dorm home, but its feel. Through means unknown, whether magical or mundane, the flooring is so soft that it is not uncommon for one to lose where their feet end and where the carpet begins.

The walls, too, follow this cosy décor. A decidedly quaint and simple white paper has been cast upon each and every wall, making those who look upon it feel almost as if they have been sent back in time. In occasional corners, one is able to see the signatures and notes of those who have come before, passing notes of encouragement and determination to the new residents of the dorm room, some dates stretching back centuries; others, present.

Each bed in the room harkens from eastern tradition in the form of a roll-up futon, the kind that lies directly upon the floor. The softness of the carpet when combined with the mattress balance perfectly against the stiffness of the ground, creating an experience no less comfortable than any bed. When all futons are rolled up and stored alongside each student’s trunk, the room becomes open and provides plenty of space to lounge and converse. To this end, a series of seating cushions are stored in a simple wooden cupboard, itself built into the wall next to the door.

To the surprise of many, the Nest lacks any windows, causing it to grow entirely dark and black at night, adding to the intimate nature of the dormitory. At this time, should a student stay awake, they may witness twinkling golden lights dancing across the ceiling. During the day, the same enchantment is used to broaden these lights, making them appear almost as if miniature suns, illuminating the room and bringing a sense of joy and daylight to the inhabitants.

The smallest of the four Gryffindor boy’s dormitories, Niffler Nook is the home of the mischievous and the adventurous. Guarded by four wooden carvings of Nifflers scampering about the door itself, the small doorway leading into the dormitory is only a meter and a half tall, requiring its taller inhabitants to duck in order to avoid cracking one’s head on the low frame. A miniature tunnel lit by lightbulb-kept glow worms extends from the entrance, likely requiring those seeking access to crouch and crawl before finally being permitted to behold this humble abode.

The dormitory is, without question, a hoarder's dream; wherever the eye looks, small knick-knacks, worthless oddities, and shiny baubles can be found piled and strewn across the spruce flooring covered with quaint crocheted rugs and stitched fabrics. The bedsheets are covered with homemade patchwork quilts, evoking a humble homestead, and the beds themselves are much lower to the ground than normal bunk beds. In fact, everything within the dormitory seems just a hair smaller than it should be; bunks, drawers, desks, and even the two bookshelves filled with childhood nursery rhymes and casual reading material located underneath but one of the Nook’s circular windows are fitted to a size below the average.

The Nook remains a cozy niche for most of the year as if to promote friendship and compatriotism between the boys who take up residence within. However, that is not to say that it doesn’t have a few additional oddities now and again. Much like its namesake is known to do, the Niffler Nook seems to attract that which does not belong to them. Well known over the years to have become something of a lost and found, items lost by other Gryffindor students within the tower somehow often seem to magically find their way into this particular dorm. It is not uncommon, then, for inhabitants of other rooms to come knocking, inquiring whether this or that has turned up among the knick-knacks within.

April 1st is the other significant date for the Niffler Nook. On that day, the Nook experiences a reverse of its typical smaller state, and instead the room begins to appear much bigger than its inhabitants. In some cases on this day, one might have to find a way to physically climb into bed or may have to run through the normally short path which leads back into the Gryffindor common room.

The door to the Hippogriff Holt is not a door at all, but rather a painting, much like the Fat Lady that guards the Gryffindor Common Room proper. Depicting an elderly knight, those students assigned to the dorm must greet the oft dozing man with an appropriate hail—demonstrating their nobility—before he swings asunder granting them access.

Immediately upon entrance, one would be taken aback by the sheer spaciousness of the area. Whilst appearing as rather small from the outside, the Holt itself is enchanted to be magically massive. Entirely open plan in its design, the interior of the dormitory resembles a barn more than anything else. Aged oaken floors provide a satisfying tap as students walk across them, and matching wooden planking adorns the walls. The entire room serves as the sleeping area, with beds placed into what appear to be converted stables on the near sided wall, the entryways to the stalls serving as dividers between each student’s personal space.

Yet, the true majesty of the room lies upon its far side, where the room ceases to be a room at all and transitions onto a stone balcony. A large arch cuts into the far wall, appearing at first glance to be entirely void of protection from the elements beyond, the gray within its stony frame often mistaken for the overcast sky beyond. In place of a door, a closer inspection reveals a magically enchanted mist-like barrier, instead. At night—once the hours of curfew have settled—the mist coalesces into a murky form, impossible to step through and appearing as if made out of nimbus. Within regular daylight hours, however, any of the dorm's members may pass as though stepping through little more than air.

When one steps through the mist and onto the balcony itself, they will be immediately greeted by the blowing of the exterior wind, the atmospheric charm at the archway that had kept the interior room insulate no longer of effect once beyond its impact. The balcony itself blends seamlessly into the rest of the building. Not hidden, by any means, nor invisible to those that would glance up from below, but rather made of the same aged stone as the rest of the castle, both floor and barrier blending together in their make.

It is only the adornments to the balcony that provide a break to the colour scheme, for a number of owl perches have been erected upon the stone, their sharp birch wood contrasting like snow upon the night’s sky. A singular bronze telescope also stands alone, joined only by a simple wooden seat, allowing a would-be astronomer the chance to peer into the heavens. For those wishing to peer during the day, they will find that the balcony serves as a fine vantage point over the school grounds, the comings and goings of peers and staff alike visible to curious young eyes.

Arguably one of the more elaborate dorm doors, the Phoenix Pen boasts a grand mahogany portal, it's frame intricately carved to give the appearance of feathers and flame, interwoven in an endless dance. Like every other dorm, the names of its inhabitants can be seen carved into it. More eye-catching, however, is the door itself into which is carved an delicately detailed egg. But it isn't always an egg. Over the course of the day, the egg hatches, revealing a small chick that grows and develops with the progression of the sun across the sky into the form of a fully adult phoenix. At nightfall, the phoenix is set ablaze, its image upon the door little more than a haze of smoky ash overnight. By the time curfew is lifted in the morning, however, and children are permitted to emerge from the dorm once again, the ash wisps away to reveal the egg once again.

Upon entering the Phoenix Pen, one’s eyes would be immediately drawn to the centrepiece of the room: an enormous hearth. More akin to a bonfire than a traditional fireplace, the flickering orange and red flames sit in a lowered pit, a small stone barrier serving as protection against students who may tend to wander toward it during the night. Not that they need to worry, for the flames are enchanted so that they cannot burn, and flicker to a dim blue at night, imitating the natural luminescence of the moon. Surrounding the pit are an odd assortment of wooden chairs, a mixture of trees and grains, each combining elements both worn and new, as if halfway between old and young. Some have fabric or cushions adorning them, aged velvet or freshly sown wool, whilst others are as stern and harsh as the trees from which they were carved.

The floor matches the mismatch of furniture, with alternating wood patterns—oak, birch and mahogany among them—granting the room an energy that is both chaotic and tempered, much like the flame that rests in its centre. The wood is polished to a shine, the varnish reflecting the light of the fire, and vibrant red rugs are strewn toward the outskirts of the room, where the beds sit. For each student who calls the Pen their home, a four-poster bed has been erected, each—once more—a different type of wood. At their foot sits a trunk, its own material matching that of the bed to which it is married. Upon assignment, the trunk is enchanted to display the name of the boy who will call it his own for the duration of his stay.

The room itself is spacious, and surprisingly round, with a roof that curves and comes together in a decided point, leaving its dimensions entirely egg shaped. How the stone walls and roof were carved into such a shape in spite of their obvious rectangular form leaves but one solution, magic. There are no dark corners in which to hide in in the room, with each bed granted equal access to the hearth. Although, sufficient space between the beds and the hanging of crimson and gold curtains serve to provide each student with ample privacy should he so desire.

Yet, the most magical part of the room is the enchantment cast upon its furniture and fittings, as the year grows longer so too does the wood and stone rapidly age: young and supple wood becomes ancient and strong; the stone grows cracked and wearied; and the room itself appears tempered by years. The entire process reverts over the summer, undone and renewed by the time the students return the following September, the cycle of rebirth complete.

Its doorway is guarded by large, gold and silver encircling wings of a creature serving as the namesake of this dormitory. A pair of ruby eyes belonging to a large golden dragon head glare down at whoever dares to enter this home of the bold and confident. At night, the eyes glow faintly in the dark, and its nostrils flare with a harmless glow of fire which creates sparse shadows and gives the strange illusion that the creature appears to be breathing. Inscribed overhead is a runic warning: “Take not of my treasure trove, lest consequence of greed be loathed.” Past this loyal golden guardian, the stalwart of heart would come face to face with a blast of heat to test their mettle before they are finally permitted to enter the Dragon’s Den. It is suggested that flammable papers and loose items be held close to oneself when entering, lest their corners be scorched in this initial encounter with the ambient magic of this dormitory.

Within, the dormitory itself is decorated to interpret a dragon’s magnificent treasury. The bedposts gleam with gold and silver, the carpets are woven with shimmering thread and feature magnificent oriental patterns, and gems glimmer in the corners of the room upon gleaming piles of false galleons, sickles, and knuts. The animated paintings depict wild dragons of all sorts in various landscapes. From time to time, the dragons spar with one another in an event dubbed Elitex Dracones—an event which takes place once every other month on the night of the New Moon and may provoke betting, rabble-rousing, and competition among the inhabitants. On this night, Pepper Imps and teardrop phials containing harmless amounts of Dogsbreath Potion are found among the treasure, encouraging the students to engage in their own acts of fire-breathing and amassing the largest ‘horde’ of the riches before the night is through.

Although this dormitory appears luxurious and would certainly be the envy of any man, great misfortune begets those who dare attempt to make off from within any item beyond their own rightful possessions. The portent scrawled over the dormitory blazes golden when such an infraction transpires, and the unfortunate thief is blasted with a wave of heat, the roar of a dragon echoing in the vicinity. When the moment passes, the individual finds their skin painlessly pockmarked and blistered with draconic scales on their arms, legs, and face unable to be disguised or covered. Intended to shame any who should stoop so low to thievery, the effect diminishes gradually over time, fading altogether after an hour. Should this be insufficient to encourage the return of stolen goods to their rightful owner, the objects do so themselves. At sun-down, any wrongfully removed item from the Dragon's Den finds itself temporarily transfigured into a small golden dragon to make the flight back to reunite with its own in the dorm.