The Albanian Forest was sweltering on a summer afternoon. There was not the slightest sound of wind, and sunlight pierced into the deep woods like sharp swords. Fortunately, the dense leaves still blocked some of that fire-like glare. Even so, stepping into the depths of the forest was like entering a steaming sauna, making it hard to breathe.
With the black mist that appeared out of nowhere, a thunderous boom shattered the silence of the deep forest. The door leading to the underground Grotto beneath Albania seemed to have been pushed open by an invisible hand. Black robes billowing, Snape, his greasy hair plastered to his head, followed the stone steps downward into the underground Grotto.
This place seemed to form an entirely different space from the world above. Compared with the scorching ground, the cellar, which had been additionally enchanted with a temperature-control spell, was very cool.
Snape's brow was tightly furrowed, his gaze dark. He strode swiftly toward the interior of the Grotto with more urgency than usual, his long cloak slapping against his ankles. He turned down a corridor and continued upward, entering the stone hall where the Dark Lord most often stayed.
Inside the stone hall, Snape's hurried footsteps broke the almost stagnant atmosphere. All the Death Eaters turned their eyes toward the wizard who appeared in the doorway and quickly walked in.
After a long period of construction, this secret base beneath Albania had been arranged more and more thoroughly. In the very center of the stone hall stood a long table—it looked as if Lucius Malfoy had moved the long dining table from his own home here. High-backed chairs were neatly lined up on both sides of the table, filled with Death Eaters, while other Death Eaters stood in rows on either side. (Author's