Ron was rather conspicuous with his reaction to their surroundings as the raven, though aware he couldn't possibly be all that better having never had the chance to stay in a hotel before as there'd never been a snowflake's chance in Hell the Dursely's would ever have taken him to one, doubted that your typical Muggle walked into the lobby and started looking around with their mouths agape like a fish. Hermione, seeming to share Harry's sentiment, was quick to chide him on the matter and the red head closed his mouth so quickly that his teeth knocked together with a sharp clack. As the frizzy haired witch left them standing in the middle of the room to approach the front desk, presumably to make their reservations and pay for the room joined Harry in staring at their surroundings.
He doubted that the place was all that high end, not that he was really in any position to tell, but that didn't matter in the end. It was more than likely all they'd be able to afford, and even then only for a short while, with what Muggle money Hermione had had the foresight to include in her expanded beaded bag of tricks. Attempting to pay with sickles and galleons would more than likely prove a bad idea as, as tempting as gold and silver might be, it was also liable to get the Muggle authorities called on them. And being held up in their efforts to leave the country for America would only heighten their chances of getting caught.
As badly as he wanted to proceed immediately Harry knew that Hermione was right. This wasn't a situation which could abide giving in to his Gryffindor tendencies and rushing in with reckless abandon and a Hail Mary in hopes that his inexplicable luck would be enough to get to the bottom of the mystery and put Tom Riddle back to rights. They knew too little about too little and didn't have any other choice but to rectify that fact and their best chance of doing so would be to go to the Library of Congress in America.
And that meant relying on the Slytherin streak which had almost landed him in Snake House to keep his patience long enough for Hermione to successfully undergo the process of forging the documents necessary for them to make it passed the American authorities.
The well-lit room, lined on all sides with beige-gold tile, and the wall inset with massive windows was setting him on edge. Every time something moved outside-a pedestrian, a car or something else-green eyes would dart swiftly towards it in order to assess the threat. Hand subconsciously twitching towards where his wand was hidden in the waist band of his pants. Nothing, every time. Still, it didn't make him feel any better.
Needless to say, Harry was beyond relieved when Hermione returned with the room keys in hand and led them towards the elevator. Once the doors had juttered shut behind them and the elevator had started upwards with a ding she turned towards them. "I didn't have much left on me so I could only get one room for about two nights. We still have a bit left over for food, but…"
"Better we get out of here as soon as possible. We were safer in the forest than we are in London." Harry said. "Are you going to be able to get the documents done by then?"
"It will be pushing it but if I start right away I should be able to." Hermione said. "As much as it isn't ideal it may be better to only make one, duplicate it and then make the necessary modifications to them to ensure that we have the best possible chance of getting passed the authorities when we arrive."
"Blimey, Hermione." Ron said. "Mind telling us when and why you learned to do this sort of thing?"
"I didn't learn to do it on purpose!" She swatted at him weakly with her bag, pink in the face. "You just…pick up on how to do a lot of things when you read as much as I do."
"Do you know how to hot wire a car, too?" he raised an arm to defend himself from her retaliatory assault. "Better not let the plonker Mundungus find out. He might try and convince you join his little thievery enterprise."
"Harry!" The beads on her bag rattled together as she swung it at him but the only half-serious attack ended when the elevator doors opened again with another shrill ding.
The halls were narrow with off-white grungy walls and floors paved in what could only be described as bowling alley carpet. It smelled like cleaning fluid and cigarette smoke. The room that they'd managed to book was 418, third down from the far end of the hall.
It took them a good three tries to finally fit the key into the look but, on the edge of giving up on the matter entirely and using an Unlocking Charm instead, they finally managed to force it in and turn it. Once the lock had clicked free of its lowered position the trio managed to shoulder it open and spilled inside in a heap.
The same unflattering carpet and smoke stained white walls awaited them, accompanied by drab less than clean bedding and atrocious floral curtains which reminded Harry far too much of Dolores Umbridge's office for comfort.
"Aside from the fact that those curtains make it a bit too similar to the office of that awful Ministry Hag, I think I can work with this." At least he wasn't the only one who held such less than flattering sentiments. Hermione disentangled herself, rose to her feet, and brushed dust free of her knees. "Hopefully neither of you is allergic to dust."
"Not me." Ron said. "You, mate?"
"No." Harry said, getting up as well.
"So, how are we going to do this?" He gestured to the only two beds in the room. "Hermione and I in one and Harry and…the locket?"
The raven rolled his eyes as he dropped onto the nearest bed with the shriek of old hinges. "I promise not to make out with it while the pair of you are in the room."
"I'd hope not. Doubt my sister would be entirely pleased to find out you'd replaced her with a Dark Object." Ron said as he sprawled out atop the other bed.
"Ronald, I understand that you're her brother, but considering the fact that they're currently broken up both Harry and Ginny are fully within their rights to be seeing other people. Not that I approve of you being with a Horcrux either." The beaded bag clattered loudly when she dropped it onto the table, beginning the process of fishing out the required items. "Maybe after we've put him back together, if things go how we hope."
"Hermione!"
"Bloody Hell, 'Mione! Why are you, trying to set him up with the Dark Lord?"
"It should be obvious." She'd managed to drag ink, a quill, a couple of pieces of parchment and a number of other objects the raven didn't recognize out of her bag. "Face it, boys, the longest relationship Harry's ever had with any one has been with Tom Riddle. And even with him having gone crazy you can't deny that they're a lot alike."
"Thanks," the raven drawled, dropping his head back onto the pillow. The thing was on its last legs and let out a sad sounding wheeze as soon as weight was applied to it. "I definitely needed someone to tell me that. Couldn't possibly have gone on another moment longer without being informed of how similar I am to the Darkest Wizard of our generation."
No matter if he was at fault for his own actions or not, and regardless of how sorry for him he felt, it still wasn't the world' most flattering remark.
"I'll be a while," her voice had taken on a distracted tone as she started in on the job of creating passports and IDs and whatever else they'd need to avoid being arrested immediately for unlawful entry of a foreign country. "Why don't you show Ron the television, Harry? I'm sure that his response will be rather interesting."
It was. Not quite to the stereotypical point of the red headed wizard asking how the Muggles got into the glass box but close enough to make both of them laugh. He, Harry felt sure, probably hadn't looked much better when he'd first discovered the Magical World.
That night, much to the relief of all three of them, went by without trouble. They watched a bit of TV, ran over some of what they'd already decided would be the best protocol of action both if things went right and if things went wrong, ordered pizza and then went to sleep. And the next day went much the same. Wake up at ten in the morning (Hermione had been up since seven), watch more TV, eat the rest of the pizza for lunch, watch more TV. Then came dinner. No pizza left.
"There's a café a couple of blocks west of here." Hermione still hadn't properly finished their false documents but, no doubt owing to the fact that they all remembered exactly what had happened the last time they'd been to a café, replaced them in her bag either way. "We'll run there to grab a bite and then come back. Let's go."
After turning out the lights and ensuring, on reflex more than out of any need to have them, that they had both room keys on them the trio filed out of the room and left the hotel.
Darkness had fallen about an hour before and Harry couldn't help himself from holding his wand in a death grip underneath his oversized jumper. The golden links of the locket's chain were warm around his neck but did little to offer comfort. They reached the café without incident and sat at the table farthest back and away from the window. Dinner was quiet. Harry knew it wouldn't last.
They were alone on the quiet street in the dark, halfway back to the hotel, when the locket suddenly constricted like a python. The force of the metal biting into his throat with enough force to cut off his breathing and made him double over, and as a result he narrowly avoided the spell which whizzed by just over his head. A cacophony of cracks ricocheted off the walls of the surrounding buildings as Death Eaters apparated into being around them, cloaks black as shadows and silver skull masks glinting in the dark. With how badly his eyes were watering (thankfully the thing had released him almost immediately) it was difficult to aim. He fired off one spell and then another and was gearing up for a third but never got the chance. Hermione seized him by the back of his neck and spun on the spot.
As the familiar darkness and crushing sensation of Apparition washed over him all Harry's mind could focus on was the fact that the locket had acted to protect him.
