Henri Rousseau The Sleeping Gypsy paintingHenri Rousseau The Dream paintingPaul Cezanne Trees in Park painting
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 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!"
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