Turning off Hogsmeade's main street into a narrow alley, Snape arrived at a small pub.
A shabby wooden sign hung from a rusted bracket. It showed a severed boar's head, blood seeping through the white cloth wrapped around it.
The Hog's Head Inn. It was Snape's destination.
Unlike the bright and polished Three Broomsticks Inn, also in Hogsmeade, this place was different.
Most people kept their faces tightly covered and spoke in low voices, as if everyone was sharing secrets they couldn't tell anyone else.
But Snape made no attempt to hide himself. He ran a hand over his freshly washed, shoulder-length hair and strode inside.
"Creak."
As he pushed the door open, the tiny, dim, filthy room, thick with the smell of sheep, fell silent.
Everyone looked toward Snape, some from beneath the brims of their hats, others from behind scarves. He was completely exposed.
"That's a Hogwarts professor."
"I remember he likes doing business in Knockturn Alley."
"Showing up like that at the Hog's Head Inn is a bit disrespectful of the rules here."
The murmurs reached Snape, but he paid them no mind.
He swept his gaze over the pub as if inspecting students, then fixed it on the person sitting in the corner.
"Well, this is a rare visit, Snape. What'll you have?"
The tall, thin owner, whose long hair and beard had both turned gray, called from across the room. At last, Snape looked away from the corner.
"Firewhisky, please."
Snape placed his order, his gaze returning to the corner.
At that moment, the person with half his face hidden beneath a scarf and hat—only his mouth showing when he drank—met Snape's eyes.
Snape waved at him, but the man looked away and lowered his hat deliberately.
"He doesn't seem to want to talk to