The Hog's Head Inn

Snape decided that he should pay a visit to The Hog's Head Inn after all.

It wasn't for any other reason than the fact that Voldemort had made a complete mess of the wizarding world.

In the original course of events, the casualty rate for their generation was simply too high.

Lily, himself, Regulus Black, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Barty Crouch Jr., Bellatrix Lestrange... both sides had been wiped out almost entirely.

Even that fraud of a junior, Gilderoy Lockhart, had ended up as a fellow patient at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries alongside Frank and Alice Longbottom.

After much thought, it seemed that only the Malfoy family, who couldn't scrape together a single functional wand between them, had survived completely unscathed.

As a veteran Potterhead in his past life, he was unwilling to just stand by and watch. If he didn't personally turn this world upside down and plug the charger into Tom's two-pronged socket, wouldn't his trip here be for nothing?

Therefore, days without Voldemort were the only good days.

Now was not yet the time to completely draw a line in the sand with the Death Eaters. Aside from the ring buried in the ruins of the Gaunt shack and the diadem hidden in the Room of Requirement, he had no idea where the other Horcruxes were.

Turning into a small alley next to the post office, Snape saw a small pub.

The pub's dilapidated wooden sign hung from a rusted bracket above the door frame.

The sign depicted a severed boar's head, with blood seeping through the white cloth wrapping it.

Whenever the wind blew, the sign would creak and groan.

Snape reached out and pushed the door open; a thick, dust-filled shaft of sunlight split the room in two.

As the door creaked shut, the sunlight vanished in an instant.

His pupils dilated rapidly, struggling to adjust to the dimness:

It was a small, dark room with thick layers of grime on the bay windows, letting in almost no light. A few half-melted candle stubs burned on the rough wooden tables.

The entire room reeked of a strong, pungent smell of mutton.

Except for a few Hogwarts students huddled around the table furthest from the bar, most of the customers were wearing hoods.

Avery, Mulciber, Regulus, Crouch Jr., and the others were all there.

He had once gifted the Silencing Charm to the Death Eaters.

Because of this, even in The Hog's Head Inn, they didn't need to worry about their conversation being overheard.

With Snape's arrival, the indistinguishable buzzing coming from the wooden table ceased abruptly.

Surrounded by the group, a hooded woman lifted her chin slightly, leaning back in a tattered armchair with an expression as if she were resting on a throne.

"What are you here for?"

"I have come for our shared purpose."

"You dare to come here?"

The woman curled her lips in contempt, her eyelids drooping slightly, her tone laced with disdain.

"How am I to interpret that, Bellatrix?"

"How are you to interpret that?"

Bellatrix suddenly began to giggle, repeating Snape's words in a shrill voice.

She rose abruptly, strode over to Snape, and locked eyes with him.

"Little Sev, your friends tell me that you seem to prefer stinking little Mudbloods over them."

"Compared to all things that stink, of course, including those two."

Snape studied Bellatrix's delicate face with an intrigued gaze.

"I seem to have only just realized that there are better, purer things in this world, things I prefer—"

A fit of hysterical laughter cut him off. Bellatrix looked somewhat unhinged, laughing so hard she couldn't stand straight.

"Ah... Little Sev." She tucked a few strands of sleek, jet-black hair behind her ear and wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.

"I really didn't expect this. Do you like your elder sister? But you've come a bit late—"

"Yes, I regret that. Lucius told me that you and Rodolphus held your wedding a few months ago."

Bellatrix let out a soft snort, curled her lips in mockery, and said in a voice barely audible, "Why bring up that idiot?"

"I am glad we can reach a consensus on that point."

Snape let out a short, low chuckle, his voice dropping to a murmur.

"Though, compared to his stupidity, I am clearly more jealous of his good fortune."

"Is that so? It's a pity that compared to a Lestrange, it isn't just his luck you need to be jealous of, Snape."

Bellatrix enunciated Snape's surname syllable by syllable.

She licked her thin lips with the tip of her tongue, all the while staring intensely into Snape's eyes.

"The change in you is truly astonishing..."

In an instant, Snape felt Bellatrix's icy gaze bore into his pupils like an awl, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue to probe its prey.

Yet, at this moment, he felt a strange sense of detachment—as if a transparent veil hung between him and the serpent.

It seemed he could choose which thoughts to show her.

Images flashed through his mind like a movie:

The Marauders' attack, the suffocating humiliation, the girl's look of contempt, the strands of hair drifting in the mirror, Bellatrix's beautiful face, a flicker of possessive desire...

"Enough!"

Snape roared in a low, angry voice, stumbling back a few steps and knocking over a chair.

"Bellatrix, enough!"

"How dare you... how could you..."

He took a deep breath and spoke in a low, trembling voice, though he kept his head bowed to avoid Bellatrix's gaze.

"Quiet, Severus."

Bellatrix sat back down in the armchair, resuming her languid posture.

"Sit down, and keep those filthy thoughts of yours to yourself."

"Be loyal to the Master, and you will naturally receive rewards that many wizards could never dream of."

She looked around the room and said, "The same goes for you all. The Master will not overlook any loyal servant."

"To ensure you can serve the Master better in the future, let us return to today's topic."

"Since you have all finished your fifth year, I will help you lay the foundation for your sixth-year curriculum. Today, we shall learn how to use the three Unforgivable Curses. Afterward, you can find opportunities to practice them yourselves..."

The candles on the wooden table burned down bit by bit, the flames shifting from yellow to orange-red.

When the meeting ended, Snape deliberately lingered behind for a while.

"Regarding the Dark Lord's rewards, Bellatrix." He wanted to confirm something. "I heard that for particularly loyal servants, the Dark Lord bestows upon them some special rewards."

Snape asked in a tone that mixed fear with a hint of greed:

"Do you know specifically what the Dark Lord's special favor might be?"

Bellatrix seemed stung by the words; the tips of her ears turned pink, and she spoke in a voice several degrees higher than when she was teaching:

"The Master will see in the end that I am his most loyal and reliable servant!"

"As a member of the ancient and noble House of Black, your loyalty is beyond question."

Snape hurriedly made a gesture of farewell toward her and turned to leave the pub.

It was fortunate that Bellatrix's belief in blood purity was so deeply ingrained; otherwise, he would have been in real danger today.

Sooner or later, he would have to make this madwoman kneel at his feet.

Unfortunately, the information he had risked so much to obtain could hardly be called good news.

Hufflepuff's Cup should not yet be hidden in the vault of the Lestrange family.

Walking all the way back to the castle and finishing dinner in the Great Hall, Snape returned to his dormitory.

The laundered clothes were already neatly folded at the foot of his bed.