The streets are clean and neat in one of the posher parts of London. The street is neatly lit by lamps that grow darker and dimly lit a small side street, an alleyway, really. Within the gloomy side street, there is a well-kept garden in front of a corner establishment with decorative lanterns glowing warmly to lighten the evening. In elegant, cursive golden letters upon the door are carved the name of the establishment, "The Shaded Lantern."
Past the oak-colored door into the sophisticated gentleman's club is a main parlor. The waiters are impeccably dressed as they move about serving fine drinks in crystal goblets with silver-rimmed bottoms to reveal any attempt at poisoning. The wizards comfortably chat and drink in velvet armchairs.
Further down the hall, there is an open bar along with a smoking room. There is even a large game hall filled with various gambling tables including a muggle billiards and a dart board. At this hour, the gaming room is full of wizards enjoying a rousing game or two. The nearest adjacent table to the door is a group of wizards playing poker with an enchanted poker deck that dealt itself.
One might think a player might overdrink and become rowdy, but there is little chance of that. In each corner of the gaming chamber stands two brawny wizards. The large forehead of Hyde is narrowed, but even more, his short temper with loud louts is infamous. He would kick out any one of them at the first chance he got. The members of the establishment had wisely learned to take a break from drinking or step away from the game to cool their heads. A hard lesson that many had learned more than once upon being ruthlessly cast out onto the street.
On the other hand, the beady eyes of Floyd are trained on the game itself. Floyd for all his brawn had quite with a sharp mind. Any attempt at cheating would be harshly and rather painfully dealt with. It only took two lessons for the message to stick. Then again, the two cheaters had ended up in St. Mungos for weeks. It was not a lesson anyone desired to undertake.
Past the gaming hall for patrons less interested in betting, there is an elegantly lit dining hall for those wishing to leisurely chat or discuss business. Smaller doorways line the hall for privacy in secure conference rooms. Down the hall is a stairway leading to dozens of bedrooms for the guests to rest or even reserve for personal pleasure. There were strict rules and regulations regarding the request for pleasure services. The bedrooms need only to be reserved 24 hours in advance and paid for to ensure that an herb or flower from Madam Zenaries Emporium of Fine Delicacies, Treats, and the Exotic would be readily available to fulfill the gentlemen club member's baser needs.
There is a set of guards that patrol the second floor of the Shaded Lantern. It is to ensure both the safety of the patrons and the flowers and herbs of Madam Zenaries Emporium of Fine Delicacies, Treats, and the Exotic. Occasionally accidents tended to happen due to miscommunication. They tended to be pointedly and most quickly resolved.
Back onto the first floor past the dining hall and conference rooms, there is a large library liberally used by many connected to an adjacent parlor that overlooks the gardens in the back. Many patrons enjoyed reading by the light of candlelight or simply chattering in a softer setting as they gazed out into the relaxing gardens.
The remaining corridors are off-limits to guests as they lead to the servant quarters. Yet in a dark corner of the club, there is a carefully hidden study. The study itself is decorated in warm earth-tone colors with a large window that overlooks, a well-kept garden.
Sitting in a velvet armchair is an old, weathered wizard with neat-cut hair and a pastel-colored jumper. Sanderson sits engrossed in a muggle novel, "The Castle of Otranto." The novel itself begins on the wedding day of the sickly son of Lord Manfred, who will wed a princess. Yet shortly after his son dies and a prophecy foretells the end of Lord Manfred's line. Lord Manfred proceeds to do all he can to prevent the end of his line including trying to forcefully marry his son's widow. And in the end, mistakenly kills his daughter in a fit of blind rage and paranoia.
There is a fidget and rustle from the others sitting in the study impatiently waiting for Sanderson to stop reading. Lewis, the head of the Welsh scrunches up his high forehead causing his dark hair to slip further downward. His olive-colored skin is pulled taunt against his flesh. His blue eyes flicker full in annoyance.
At Lewis's side stands his metamorphmagus, Melion, who had been lent to Sanderson. The very same, who had posed as Sanderson's deceased son in Hogsmeade, a shopkeeper's aid at Zonko's. Melion's true form is that of a slender man with dragon pox scars, wispy brunet hair, big eyes, and a crooked-toothed smile. His eyes however change colors according to his mood at present showing a murky brown of uncertainty.
Puffing away calmly is Jones, the Head of Northern England. He is a pale, gruff, and unshaven elderly wizard. His tobacco pipe hangs between his lips revealing the occasional crooked, yellow teeth. He did not mind the silence at all being a patient, wily fox.
The only female in the chamber is Fenny, the former second-in-command of Forsythe. The fierce witch had replaced Forsythe as the Head of Scotland not hesitating to sacrifice her boss to save her crew. Her skin is weathered and rough with silver streaks in her crimson hair. A spray of freckles can be seen all over her limbs including her weathered hands.
"Tis enough!" Fenny finally said. "Sanderson, Lewis did as you asked and Melion did his job. Enough of your tricks, what do you want with us?"
Sanderson gently closes the novel and places a bookmark between the pages. In a pastel jumper, Sanderson appears rather inoffensive. Yet as always, his wolfish brown yellowish eyes betrayed him.
"I have summoned you all this evening to form an albi," Sanderson matter-of-factly replied. "The Aurors will come knocking soon at our doors wanting to know how so many portkey's were created without being noticed. We need to make sure that there are no loose ends that lead them back to us."
Jones lets out a cloud of smoke. "If 'ats all you are wanting, it isn't hard at all. We already made sure to clean up any loose ends."
"Are you certain, Jones?" Lewis growled. "I heard that drunken son of yours was bragging in the pubs who might list about how he pulled one right under the Auror's noses!"
"My son is no concern of yours, Lewis!" Jones growled dangerously setting his pipe down.
"It is of a concern to all of us, Jones," Fenny pointedly reminded. "If ye can't keep your son in tow, then Sanderson will do so for ye."
Jones stiffens visibly as Sanderson's wolfish eyes eye him like a piece of meat or rather a dead man walking. "I'll talk to him," Jones rasped. "He won't say a word."
"And he shan't," Sanderson earnestly said. "I had Hyde and Floyd have a firm chat with him. He's at St. Mungo's being treated as we speak for wounds garnered at Hogsmeade, well, at least that is what his medical records will say."
Jone's face tightens unhappily, but he knew that was better than having his son killed. At least in this manner, his son's words would be completely discredited by the Aurors. He grimly sticks his pipe between his teeth and puffs away like a chimney pipe.