There was a soft creak, and Harry looked around to see that a door he hadn't noticed was opening. It looked like the doorway into a corridor, so he went over. He would have to find some way to apologize and leave as quickly as possible.
Then he stopped, because now that he was close enough, he could read the flowing handwriting on a piece of wood on the door.
Harry Potter's Room.
"No way," Harry breathed. "How can this be my room?"
No one answered him, but the floorboards creaked slightly in what sounded like a welcoming note, and then a light appeared on the ceiling. Harry yelped and scrambled backwards. It really had appeared, a huge golden old-timey chandelier! It was filled with brilliant white candles that shed a brilliant white light.
Harry stared around at the bedroom again, and realized it had mirrors on the other walls, a huge desk, lots of chairs, a door standing open that showed a glimpse of a white bathroom beyond, and a window seat. He'd always wanted a window seat.
"But why is this my room?" he asked the house, because he didn't have anybody else to ask.
The wood on the wall stirred, and a face formed there. Harry jumped and stared, more than a bit worried about what this meant for his freakish sanity, but he supposed it wasn't any different from the light forming on the ceiling.
The face had shut eyes and huge wooden eyebrows and a beard. It also had a big nose that looked as if it would poke Harry if he got too close. But he was going to stay back, because the mouth was huge, and the teeth looked like sharpened stakes.