Of men on the opposite side was singing and weaving across the pavement.

“Just as a matter of interest, why Tottenham Court Road?” Ron asked Hermione.

“I’ve no idea, it just popped into my head, but I’m sure we’re safer out in the

Muggle world, it’s not where they’ll expect us to be.”

“True,” said Ron, looking around, “but don’t you feel a bit – exposed?”

“Where else is there?” asked Hermione, cringing as the men on the other side of

the road started wolf-whistling at her. “We can hardly book rooms at the Leaky Cauldron,

can we? And Grimmauld Place is out if Snape can get in there. . . . I suppose we could try

my parents’ home, though I think there’s a chance they might check there. . . . Oh, I wish

they’d shut up!”

“All right, darling?” the drunkest of the men on the other pavement was yelling.

“Fancy a drink? Ditch ginger and come and have a pint!”

“Let’s sit down somewhere,” Hermione said hastily as Ron opened his mouth to

shout back across the road. “Look, this will do, in here!”

It was a small and shabby all-night café. A light layer of grease lay on all the

Formica-topped tables, but it was at least empty. Harry slipped into a booth first and Ron

sat next to him opposite Hermione, who had her back to the entrance and did not like it:

She glanced over her shoulder so frequently she appeared to have a twitch. Harry did not

Like being stationary; walking had given the illusion that they had a goal. Beneath the

Cloak he could feel the last vestiges of Polyjuice leaving him, his hands returning to their

Usual length and shape. He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on again.

After a minute or two, Ron said, “You know, we’re not far from the Leaky

Cauldron here, it’s only in Charing Cross –“

“Ron, we can’t!” said Hermione at once.

“Not to stay there, but to find out what’s going on!”

“We know what’s going on! Voldemort’s taken over the Ministry, what else do

we need to know?”

“Okay, okay, it was just an idea!”

They relapsed into a prickly silence. The gum-chewing waitress shuffled over and

Hermione ordered two cappuccinos: As Harry was invisible, it would have looked odd to

order him one. A pair of burly workmen entered the café and squeezed into the next

Booth. Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper.

“I say we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. Once

we’re there, we could send a message to the Order.”

“Can you do that talking Patronus thing, then?” asked Ron.

“I’ve been practicing and I think so,” said Hermione.

“Well, as long as it doesn’t get them into trouble, though they might’ve been

arrested already. God, that’s revolting,” Ron added after one sip of the foamy, grayish

Coffee. The waitress had heard; she shot Ron a nasty look as she shuffled off to take the

new customers’ orders. The larger of the two workmen, who was blond and quite huge,

Now that Harry came to look at him, waved her away. She stared, affronted.

“Let’s get going, then, I don’t want to drink this muck,” said Ron. “Hermione,

have you got Muggle money to pay for this?”

“Yes, I took out all my Building Society savings before I came to the Burrow. I’ll

bet all the change is at the bottom,” sighed Hermione, reaching for her beaded bag.

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 993