Ravenclaw

The Ravenclaw common room is huge and versatile, and it's a good thing, because they need the space.

The room is open and airy, to let creativity flow free. It's a good thing they all have wands, because there are the people obsessed with preserving space, the people in thrall of feng shui, the people who need to set up all kinds of experiments, and the room is constantly being arranged. The one thing that no one does, though, is block the windows. They love the sight of the mountains by day and the stars at night, and seeing them can suddenly prompt a flow of inspiration in a previously-blocked mind.

In the spaces between the windows, there are bookshelves, tall and deep and with Undetectable Engorgement Charms on them so that all the books will fit. When they need to get a book out, it's much too time-consuming to search all the way through the bookshelf, so they just use a simple Summoning Charm. Occasionally, this causes an avalanche of books to the floor that then need to be reshelved. The prefects keep talking about finding some kind of better system, but the truth is that no one wants to – because whenever the avalanche falls, the students swarm to it. Often they'll find books they've forgotten about, or new ones that suddenly strike their fancy.

The room is divided into three sections: the silent section, the spoken section, and the place for experiments. The silent section is mostly populated by fifth and seventh years, or people who really need to study. But in the two weeks before exams, the silent section is expanded so that everyone who needs it can have the quiet that they want.

The experimental section is filled with people trying to create their own spells or tweak potions they've already learned. Sometimes it involves loud bangs and explosions – despite their best efforts, there are still a few stubborn stains on the ceiling. No one can see them because they simply paint over them. Some people, knowing that they're there and incessantly bothered by this problem that they haven't solved, still try to desperately devise a way to get the magical stains out of the ceiling, while others – often Muggle-borns – deplore the wizards' refusal to accept simple solutions.

The speaking section is filled with many small tables, each for different purposes. People who don't have serious studying to do often choose to spend time in the speaking section, waiting for a topic to surface that strikes their fancy. Some tables are meant for review – filled with peer tutors who work with younger or struggling students to give them closer attention than the teachers can, and some of the tutors can even explain things better than the professors. Other tables are devoted to discussing particular subjects, to expanding on theories brought up in classes or textbooks.

Still more tables are filled with hot debates – generally something will have started out as a harmless discussion at one of the other tables, until two – or more – viewpoints grow more pronounced, or more contested. When this happens, the debaters will move to another table and start to hash out their subject matter, sometimes drawing complex diagrams and/or gaining a plethora of followers who will join in. The debates can last late into the night, or for days on end – until one person either is proven right or the other gives in. Debates don't just die out at the Ravenclaw tables – no one will rest until the answer is found, and rivalries can last for as long as necessary until that happens. The argument about hippogriff consciousness between Anthony Goldstein and Alyse Jackson has become legend.

In the spoken section there is also a table laden with snacks and tea, specifically reserved for the people who wake up at midnight with their brains overfilled and absolutely, desperately need a late-night snack and some time to think. Sometimes, groups of late-night wanderers will gather around the table and talk for hours. In the morning, coffee and a variety of potions for alertness are available for them.

There are always at least a few students on guard just inside the door to listen to the riddle being asked when students come to the door and are unable to answer. These students will discuss the riddle through the door so that the person who needs to enter is never without help. Sometimes, if the door senses that people are learning and if they come up with an answer that is acceptable, even if it's not quite right, it will take pity on the poor student and swing open to let that person inside, usually with a few tips as to where the reasoning is flawed.

The door itself is actually quite fascinating; if you're looking for someone with whom to discuss a point tirelessly for hours on end and can't find any other Ravenclaws who will – as uncommon an occurrence as that might be – the door will be happy to oblige. It can get insistent, though, and some Ravenclaws have developed a long-abiding resentment for that door. Still others love it, and it's not uncommon to see people chatting at the door at all hours of the night and day – because after all, the door has no commitments but letting people in.

Some Heads of Houses never visit their common rooms, but Professor Flitwick can often be seen in that of Ravenclaw. He actually has a special table designated for him – it's tall, so he can see everything that's going on, but the chair is also high. There's a stepladder so he can get to it and the floor around is protected by Cushioning Charms, just in case someone's experiment gets a little crazy and Professor Flitwick gets knocked off the chair (it's happened enough times to warrant the protection).

He does his grading at that table, or his research, but he wanders around the common room periodically, too. Sometimes he'll enter a debate, tossing in a point that no one has considered yet and then leaving to check on someone else, leaving everyone stunned at his brilliance. He also visits the tutoring tables regularly, so that if a tutor is unable to get a point across or they run into a question even the tutor doesn't know, he can supply helpful information or get someone who can.

The Ravenclaw common room sees more teacher interaction than any of the other rooms, because if Flitwick doesn't know something he'll often leave to fetch a professor who does. McGonagall comes often, to help with discussions about Transfiguration in particular, but she's pretty sharp on every subject. Professor Sprout comes in with Herbology help – and they love it when she comes, too, because she often brings exotic and unusual teas with her made from her (or others') rare plants. Even Professor Snape has come in once or twice, although that's rare. Once Slughorn starts teaching there, visits from a Potions professor are much more common.

The Ravenclaws don't generally party, and when they do, there's no or little alcohol involved. They pride themselves on their mental states and don't want to alter that, because after all, without their intelligence, what are they? However, there are some people who argue persistently and constantly that alcohol actually enhances the mind – those are people who get drunk when looking for new ideas, and there is a small section of the common room reserved for those who want to party. It's not usually very large, but people will go there, sometimes if only to try it out.

Those – and some others who are just interested in the theory – are the people who are most invested in creating a potion that will cure hangovers. In the mornings, those who have gotten drunk are always ready to try it out. Sometimes those potions have disastrous results – but other times, they're quite good.

There is, however, one huge and consistent party per year, and that takes place right after exams. Specifically, after O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, when the fifth and seventh years can finally exhale the stress that they've been sucking in for months and let loose.

Though the Ravenclaws don't often party, for that one, they don't hold back. There is butterbeer, mead, and firewhisky pre-ordered from the Three Broomsticks (to beat the rush), in bottles enchanted with Refilling Charms. There are sweets from Honeydukes, cakes and appetizers saved and stolen from the kitchen over long periods of time and charmed to stay fresh. This stash has been hoarded for months, and it's finally time to break it out – and so they do.

Professor Flitwick makes sure to stay away from the common room on the night following exams; he's familiar with the Ravenclaw tradition, having been part of it himself once. He will come in once, at two in the morning or so, and if anything dangerous is going on he'll make sure to put a stop to it and check that everyone is safe. If everything is fine, he'll give the obligatory "Go to bed" and leave, knowing full well that no one will be going to bed yet. After all, there are always the people who prefer not to drink, and those people are levelheaded and helpful enough to make sure that everyone is being safe.

Of course, before the party starts they make sure the younger kids are safe in the dormitories and that the common room is sealed with silencing charms so that they won't disturb anyone who wants it from much-needed sleep.

During the party, they try to stay away from any discussion of school or intellectual topics at all. This is supposed to be their time to free themselves of all those pressures. However, it usually doesn't work out this way. Generally, even during the party, groups will begin to form around the edges where people have begun – yet again – to discuss magical theory, philosophy, and all manner of new and old ideas. After all, Ravenclaws are Ravenclaws, and they can't stay away from intellectual pursuits for too long.

The Ravenclaw common room, on the whole, is a place of freedom, a place of adventure, if only mentally. It is a place where creativity flows freely, where new ideas are welcomed but tested, where boundaries between people break down, where everyone is united by a shared love of learning and understanding. It is a place for those of ready mind, where those of wit and learning will always find their kind.