Hogwarts' dungeons.
Black stone formed oppressive, solemn walls. Shelves lined the walls, packed with all manner of glass jars containing countless strange things.
Snakes, scorpions, toads, and other biological specimens soaked in liquids of every color, along with the eyeballs and organs of creatures no one recognized.
At the center of the room stood a broad rectangular table, covered with scales, glassware for measuring solutions, and beakers filled with dried herbal ingredients.
Several copper cauldrons sat on iron stands, perhaps brewing some mysterious potion, filling the entire room with the indescribable, distinctive smell of magic. This was now the office used by the Slytherin Head, and supposedly the Detention Room Hogwarts had once used for cruel punishments.
Now, after many years, it seemed to have resumed its old purpose. Mr. Marcus Flint, whose family had extensive Ministry of Magic connections, had been tied to a chair by Snape for several hours.
Of course, Snape was not torturing Marcus Flint. His methods of completing assignments and obtaining information were merely somewhat archaic—at least, that was how he intended to write his report.
"Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle~"
The potion in the cauldron bubbled away.
From his initial nonstop shouting,
to his current unconsciousness,
Marcus Flint had probably endured dozens of rounds of Snape's particular brand of hospitality—the assortment of bottles and jars on the table beside the bench had all become empty.
Besides massive doses of Veritaserum, there had been many other potions with varying effects. The potions currently brewing in those cauldrons were presumably Marcus Flint's dinner tonight.
This was naturally not an operation permitted by the school, nor was it a form of torture sanctioned by the Ministry of Magic. But Snape, Hogwarts' true dark wizard, clearly did not care about morality.
Death Eater.
What more needed to be said?
"Slytherin