After sharing a glance with Ron and Hermione, Harry pushed open
the door to the Room of Requirement. He wasn't quite sure what
he was expecting, but a large and elegantly-appointed entry hall,
such as might be found in a grand Muggle mansion, certainly
wasn't it.
His eyes flicked around the room, searching for possible threats.
At the same time, he was taking in the whole of his surroundings.
Marble floors, staircase and balustrade of the same marble
leading to a large landing overhead, walls paneled in a dark wood
that somehow managed to look warm instead of sinister, furniture
that looked antique without looking fragile, several closed
doors... and a dozen full-length, three-dimensional photographs
of intent-looking men and women in a wide variety of outfits,
most of them black. One of them, he noticed, was Professor
Sangnoir.
The rest of the Defense Club streamed in behind him, staring at
the hall just as much as Harry. He only absently noticed the
sound of the door closing behind them, but jumped like all the
others when an older male voice said, "Good evening, young
masters and misses," in measured, cultured tones.
There was a bit of confusion and commotion as everyone tried to
spin about at once and most of them got tangled up in one
another. Harry's Quidditch-honed reflexes served him somewhat
better, so he managed to turn around with wand in hand to face
their interlocutor while the others were untangling their arms
and legs from each other.
Next to the door they had come through was a gray-haired man of
middling height, dressed in an outfit that vaguely resembled a
tuxedo. It took Harry a moment to place it from what little
television he had been allowed to watch -- it was a butler's
uniform. His eyes flicked upward to the man's face. It was
faintly lined, the face of a man who has left middle age but is
not yet exactly *old*. His eyes were blue, and even though his
expression never varied from a studied neutral, Harry was sure
there was a smile in them.
As the last of the club got themselves sorted out, the butler
bowed to them and said, "Welcome to Warriors Mansion. I am
Summerfield, the Warriors' butler and majordomo."
Putting his wand away, Harry glanced around to see everyone was
looking expectantly at him. "Um. Thank you, Mr. Summerfield.
We were supposed to meet Professor Sangnoir here?"
The gray-haired man nodded. "Just 'Summerfield,' young master.
Colonel Sangnoir is expecting you, and has already set up
clearances to give you all access to the Mansion's high-security
zones. He has instructed me to register you with the security
systems and then lead you to the Danger Room."
Next to Harry, Hermione's eyes grew wide as she silently mouthed
the words "danger room".
With a profound economy of movement that looked at the same time
both efficient and formal, Summerfield slid around the bunched
students to stand next to one of the doors. He did something to
the wall next to it, and a panel slid down and away to reveal a
small, flat box with a keypad and the outline of a human hand
upon it. Turning back to the DA, he bowed slightly again and
said, "If you would each place your hand upon the scanner plate
and speak your name, the security systems will identify you and
allow you access."
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
the door to the Room of Requirement. He wasn't quite sure what
he was expecting, but a large and elegantly-appointed entry hall,
such as might be found in a grand Muggle mansion, certainly
wasn't it.
His eyes flicked around the room, searching for possible threats.
At the same time, he was taking in the whole of his surroundings.
Marble floors, staircase and balustrade of the same marble
leading to a large landing overhead, walls paneled in a dark wood
that somehow managed to look warm instead of sinister, furniture
that looked antique without looking fragile, several closed
doors... and a dozen full-length, three-dimensional photographs
of intent-looking men and women in a wide variety of outfits,
most of them black. One of them, he noticed, was Professor
Sangnoir.
The rest of the Defense Club streamed in behind him, staring at
the hall just as much as Harry. He only absently noticed the
sound of the door closing behind them, but jumped like all the
others when an older male voice said, "Good evening, young
masters and misses," in measured, cultured tones.
There was a bit of confusion and commotion as everyone tried to
spin about at once and most of them got tangled up in one
another. Harry's Quidditch-honed reflexes served him somewhat
better, so he managed to turn around with wand in hand to face
their interlocutor while the others were untangling their arms
and legs from each other.
Next to the door they had come through was a gray-haired man of
middling height, dressed in an outfit that vaguely resembled a
tuxedo. It took Harry a moment to place it from what little
television he had been allowed to watch -- it was a butler's
uniform. His eyes flicked upward to the man's face. It was
faintly lined, the face of a man who has left middle age but is
not yet exactly *old*. His eyes were blue, and even though his
expression never varied from a studied neutral, Harry was sure
there was a smile in them.
As the last of the club got themselves sorted out, the butler
bowed to them and said, "Welcome to Warriors Mansion. I am
Summerfield, the Warriors' butler and majordomo."
Putting his wand away, Harry glanced around to see everyone was
looking expectantly at him. "Um. Thank you, Mr. Summerfield.
We were supposed to meet Professor Sangnoir here?"
The gray-haired man nodded. "Just 'Summerfield,' young master.
Colonel Sangnoir is expecting you, and has already set up
clearances to give you all access to the Mansion's high-security
zones. He has instructed me to register you with the security
systems and then lead you to the Danger Room."
Next to Harry, Hermione's eyes grew wide as she silently mouthed
the words "danger room".
With a profound economy of movement that looked at the same time
both efficient and formal, Summerfield slid around the bunched
students to stand next to one of the doors. He did something to
the wall next to it, and a panel slid down and away to reveal a
small, flat box with a keypad and the outline of a human hand
upon it. Turning back to the DA, he bowed slightly again and
said, "If you would each place your hand upon the scanner plate
and speak your name, the security systems will identify you and
allow you access."
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
