Capítulo 363: Tintwell
At the edge of a muggle town by the name of Tintwell is an old pub, where only travelers and strangers stop by. The inhabitants of the town mostly drink at a local inn, but the old pub is kept afloat by the stream of strangers that use it. They're weird alright always wearing hoods like belonging to some sort of cult.
The old bartender Johnny knew better than to ask questions. He just served the strange, hooded customers drinks without prying and the customers in turn paid for their drinks. Often more than not, the strangers in hooded cloaks would leave huge tips that he couldn't complain about. T'was the only reason he hadn't called the local constable on them after all these years.
The pub was fairly empty at this late hour but there were still one or two travelers drinking late. Old Johnny paid them no mind as he cleaned the tables and grabbed empty beer mugs off of them. From the corner of his eye, he kept an eye on a sickly-looking dark-haired man. The pallid man looked like he would cough up a lung any minute the way he kept coughing. He had lost weight by the pounds telling by his loose clothes and gaunt cheekbones.
The sickly-looking man kept glancing at this pocket watch. Personally, Old Johnny thought whoever he was supposed to meet are right mean bastards. The poor man should be lying somewhere in bed not up at his ungodly hour waiting for a friend at some random pub. People these days!
Old Johnny was interrupted mid-tirade when two tall, hooded figures entered the pub. He got an awful shiver as he saw them remove their cowls. The bigger of the two was broad-shouldered and looked right mean with a cruel, sadistic smile. He looked like the kind of bastard who would have enjoyed breaking the neck of a kitten or puppy just for fun. While the other dark-haired man was rather thin with ice-cold eyes. It was as if all the light in his soul had been stripped away, forever extinguished never to experience even the slightest flicker of joy ever again.
Uneasy, but he still had a job to do Old Johnny approached them and said, "Will you fellows be needing a drink tonight?"
"A whiskey malt, if you please," responded the thin, dark-haired man.
"Alright, and you stranger?" Old Johnny asked the mean-looking one.
"Vodka, the strongest one you have," the haughty-faced man sneered.
Old Johnny quickly moves away and prepares the drinks as quickly as he can. Dropping the two glasses before him he hurries into the back. He just had the feeling that he shouldn't hear a single word that was about to be spoken. Or else, his life would be forfeited, and that gut feeling had saved his life more than once over the past years.
The old bartender disappeared into the back as the gaunt form of Alphard Black carefully stuck out his wand and cast a spell around them. Hiding the wand back in his sleeve he says, "Thank you for coming to meet me, Lestrange and Dolohov."
"If this is a trap, Black," Antonin Dolohov darkly warned, "I'll kill you first and burn the whole village to the ground before the Aurors capture me."
"Calm yourself, Dolohov," Rodolphus Lestrange said as he took a sniff of his whiskey malt, before tentatively sipping at it to make sure it was safe. And it was, before taking a larger gulp of the burning liquid.
"Well, Black, I'm waiting," Dolohov threatened as he rested his elbows on the table.
"I am not here in regard to the murder of Tobias Snape," Alphard plainly stated as hid his disgust for the vile action. "Rather I have three questions pertaining to these three men." Alphard shoved a tiny scrap with the three names across to Dolohov.
Dolohov takes the paper and snorts. "What about them? They were all students while I was at Hogwarts, but they were all older by a few years."
"That is my precise question," Alphard said as he leaned forward. "Were any of them in contact with Tom Marvolo Riddle?"
Dolohov's eyes dramatically narrowed at the question. "What about the Dark Lord? Are you here to prove the fact that he's a filthy half-blood? Because I already know his filthy little secret, but he gets the job done well enough. I won't complain yet."
Leaning back Dolohov adds, "And the Dark Lord was quite pleased with my actions of removing the squib of Tobias Snape. He was a travesty upon the founder's lineage."
"As I said before I am not here to ask about Tobias Snape," Alphard stiffly said. "What I want to know is if Tom Marvolo Riddle was ever seen in their company."
"Once or twice," Dolohov confessed with a shrug. "All of them were in Sluggy's club along with the Dark Lord. Beyond that they were in different years and houses, there wasn't much interaction between them."
"Nothing else that was odd?" Alphard further prodded.
"Why so curious about these three men, Black? You must surely be desperate if you've come seeking my aid," Dolohov coldly said with a wolfish smile.
"I am not paying you to ask me questions, Dolohov," Alphard icily retorted. "If you cannot answer them, you will not be paid."
Dolohov sneers as Rodolphus remains rather calm still sipping at his whisky malt. "All I know is that the Dark Lord disliked the Gryffidnor," Dolohov barked as he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Why?" Alphard asked as he leaned forward.
"Back in our fifth year, Gamp called him the product of an incestuous relation," Dolohov snickered upon recalling the memory.
"I don't know how Gamp came to know that the Dark Lord's mother was a Gaunt, but he must have suspected something we did not. The insult was ironically appropriate since the Gaunts were rather infamous for intermarrying a bit too closely for comfort. They were mad the whole lot of them in the end. Either way, the two of them got into a bit of a duel with the Dark Lord naturally winning in the end."
"That still leaves all three of them," Alphard regretfully mused to himself in frustration. He had hoped to rule out Gamp, but now he simply couldn't discard him. The reason being just how in Merlin's name had Gamp known that Riddle was a Gaunt in the first place? It was something that even a pureblood would have had access to such secure information much less a Gamp even with all his wealth.
Reaching at his side, Alphard tosses a pouch onto the table containing rare potion ingredients. "As promised your payment."
Dolohov specifically checks inside and confirms it is the agreed-upon payment. Handing over the pouch for inspection to Lestrange, Dolohov says, "Why the curiosity if I may ask, Black?"
Alphard pauses as he rises to his feet. "There are infinitely far worse things in the world than the Dark Lord," Alphard replied, before putting the payment for his drink on the table. "And please don't kill the bartender, this is a useful location for quiet transactions to pass unnoticed."
Dolohov sneers but throws down a wad of muggle money onto the table, before following Black out of the pub. Lestrange follows at his side as they watch Black apparate away in the shadows of the pub. After a moment of silence, Dolohov says, "Lestrange, what did Black mean by that?"
"I don't know," Rodolphus confessed with a trace of unease. "But whatever it is, it can't be good," Dolohov grunts before the two of them apparated away.
The sleepy town of Tintwell remained unperturbed as old Johnny cautiously emerged from the back. Seeing that the last of his customers were gone he wanders over to gather the change. Shaking his head, he mutters, "Maybe it's about time, I retire. There's bound to be a nice available flat down in Baths."
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
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