Fastidiously, Humphrey flicked dust from the shoulder of his robe. Travel by portkey was so demeaning, but even his best research had turned up no alternate means of reaching the facility. Even owls had trouble getting here, apparently.
The yard they had landed in was practically empty. Humphrey knew the warden was aware of their arrival, for he had sent her the itinerary himself. Apparently, this was her way of expressing her displeasure at the ministry's interference with her little prison.
As his companions picked themselves up, retched into paper bags brought specifically for those who suffered portkey sickness (a marvellous idea the muggle relations office had come up with), and generally got oriented, Humphrey looked for someone he could enlist as a guide.