Clandestine Whispers

>>>>>16 When darkness falls

"Where on bloody earth...? Where are we?"

"Who knows? I vote we get out of this place as soon as we can. Harry? What are you doing?"

"We're in a cellar. At some place called Polly's Putrid Pot. See here, it says it on the crates piled up here. Some sort of restaurant."

Harry walked down the hallway out of the room and then turned left up the rickety stairway out of the cellar, wand in hand, followed by Ron and Hermione. They emerged in the bar area of a small dinky restaurant. On a stage stood a band of wizards, singing their hearts out with wands waving wildly. Slinking around in dark corners of the restaurant, and peeking out to gesture suggestively from behind stage curtains were several scantily clad women, some of who were most likely part veela. Sitting at the bar were goblins, wizards, and many people of many races. However, all of them were rather unpleasant in look and in demeanor.

Ron squeaked as a trail of spiders scuttled by. Hermione noticed dripping down from the dusty rafters of the ceiling, was a sickly brown-green goeey glop. Harry was busy cleaning his glasses of the filth that had so suddenly and easily collected on them, while simultaneously attempting to cover his nose to guard it from the nauseating smell. One thought ran through the minds of the trio: We need to get out of this place, unnoticed, unharmed. And we need to get out fast.

The question was...how?

This question bored even more urgently in their minds as suddenly a scarred, heavy weight, tough-looking wizard bartender clomped up to stand in front of them; his dark heavy brows furrowed, he glared at them accusingly.

~~*~~

"Ok, Wormtail, you hideous little rat! Here's what you have to do unless you want your throat slit...use that damn silver hand of yours to carve a tear-shape out of the wall. You have powers with that thing, right? I'm finishing this spell whether you like it or not. If you make any move to escape, or anything of the like, cold metal will accompany your last breath! Now get on with it."

Trembling fearfully, Wormtail tried to bend away from the dagger pointing at his throat, which was impossible because he already lay on the floor. Slowly he reached out his silver hand, and clenching his eyes shut tightly, began to do as Draco ordered.

~~*~~

"Something is wrong, Lucius. He should be here by now, after having checked on your boy. All my other Death-Eaters are here, and Darkel did not say anything was wrong when he left your boy alone in the tower. Go, disguise yourself, and aid Harry Potter and his friends on getting out of Polly's Putrid Pot. The little wizardlings appear to be having a problem with Rodger. Then, once they are on their way to the tower, check up on your boy, and then we'll all meet Harry Potter and his friends at the sand formation you drew. We will bring out your boy, and then, the dueling will begin, and blood will be shed!"

The evil, sinister laughter of the Dark Lord and his followers pierced the air.

~~*~~

Harry and Hermione quickly turned as they heard a thump from behind, and the bartender began to laugh. Ron lay on the floor, struggling to fight off a voluptuous bodied scantily-clad waitress who was rubbing herself all over him. As Harry grabbed one of the girl's arms, and Hermione managed to grab the girl's ankles, they attempted to rip the girl off Ron. However, it was difficult; the female was actually not a girl and actually a woman who looked to be about nineteen or twenty, and she had a very strong grip. Harry and Hermione, disgusted, frustrated, and angry, both violently tried their best to help Ron.

Meanwhile, Ron was struggling even harder, because the perfume reeking off of the woman was intoxicating. He valiantly fought the urge to snog the woman right then and there. Her feminine curves very obvious as they pressed against him, her lips were always at action, kissing all over his face and licking his ears and his neck. And then she moved down, and Ron yelled loudly as her one free hand began to roam. He was almost about to give in to the magical perfume she wore, eyes glazing over, passionate urges to snog rising, when suddenly, she froze, petrified. Breathing heavily, Ron stood up with help from Harry, brushing himself off and trying to rub off the lipstick. He cringed at feeling the bite mark on his ear.

All three of them turned to see who'd put the spell on Ron's attacker. Standing there, smiling, was none other than Cornelius Fudge! After muttering many thank-you's to the Minister of Magic, the trio followed him outside, relievedly taking in deep breaths of the fresh outside air. Harry asked, "Um, Minister, I can't help but ask...what are you doing, here? And in Polly's Putrid Pot?" "Oh, Ministry work, you know. I've been trying for a long time to rid this little village of certain people, the type of people that you saw at Polly's Putrid Pot, including your friend's female attacker. It's quite tough, getting the bad people out, because, after all, they belong here in a way, the bad with the bad. You see, this village is located at the base of the hill upon which sits Malfoy Manor, so, they're comfortable living here."

"Actually, that's our destination, right now. We have some very urgent business there. Do you know the way?" Smiling, Cornelius nodded, saying, "I can lead you three to the gates. But for the rest, you're on your own."

Hermione wondered at this reaction. She had thought he would ask why, and that they would have to lie. And here he was, willing to lead them to the gates? Something was up. This was not the real Cornelius Fudge! But than who was he?

She was in-between flame and ice here. The flame was this feeling that her, Harry, and Ron shared. Determination. They were determined to get to the end of this no matter what. Because they knew it was another dark plan of Voldemort's. And the ice was the darkness, this mystery of not knowing what badness would happen, but knowing that surely, something would.