Gadgets, gizmos, steaming, sputtering, twinkling, tinkling, chiming, hissing littered every surface of the room. Cloaks, curtains, unidentifiable fabrics draped over cabinets and chests, chairs and drawers. The air was ripe and thick, Hermione could feel the resistance of it on her skin, pushing against her face and pouring into her lungs, her very being.