The Hog's Head Inn

Snape decided to make a trip to The Hog's Head Inn after all.

For no other reason than that Voldemort had turned the Wizarding World into a complete mess.

In the original course of the story, the casualty rate among his generation had been far too high.

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

Even Gilderoy Lockhart, that fraud of a younger schoolmate, had ended up in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, sharing a ward with Frank and Alice Longbottom.

After thinking it over, it seemed that only the Malfoy family, who could not scrape together a single intact Wand from the whole household, had survived unscathed.

As a veteran Potterhead in his previous life, he had no intention of standing aside. If he did not personally turn this world upside down and plug the charger into Tom's two-pronged socket, then would this trip have been for nothing?

That was why a world without Voldemort was a good world.

It was not yet time to completely cut ties with the Death Eaters. Aside from the ring buried beneath the ruins of the Gaunt shack and the diadem hidden in the Room of Requirement, he did not know where the other Horcruxes were.

Turning into an alley beside the post office, Snape spotted a small pub.

The pub's weathered wooden sign hung from a rusted bracket above the doorframe.

It depicted a severed boar's head, blood soaking through the white cloth wrapped around it.

Whenever the wind blew, the sign creaked and groaned.

Snape reached out and pushed open the door. A broad beam of dust-filled sunlight split the room in two.

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

His pupils rapidly dilated as he struggled to adjust to the gloom:

It was a cramped, dark room. Several bay windows were caked in thick grime, barely allowing any light through, and stubs of half-melted candles burned on rough wooden tables.

The entire room reeked strongly of mutton.

Apart from several Hogwarts students gathered around the table farthest from the bar, most of the patrons wore hoods.

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

He had once presented the Silencing Charm to the Death Eaters as though it were an offering.

That way, even in The Hog's Head Inn, they did not need to worry about their conversation being overheard.

The indistinguishable hum from the wooden table stopped the moment Snape arrived.

At the center of the group, a hooded woman sat lazily in a battered armchair, chin slightly raised, wearing the expression of someone reclining upon a throne.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came for our common purpose."

"You still dare come here?"

The woman curled her lips disdainfully, her eyelids half-lowered, her tone carrying a trace of contempt.

"How should I take that, Bellatrix?"

"How should I take that?"

Bellatrix suddenly let out a shrill giggle, repeating Snape's words in a piercing voice.

She abruptly rose to her feet and strode over to Snape, meeting his eyes.

"Little Sev, your friends told me that compared to them, you seem to prefer filthy little Mudbloods."

"Compared to anything filthy, certainly. Including those two."

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

"I seem to have only just realized that there are things in this world that are better, purer, and more to my liking—"

A burst of wild laughter interrupted him. Bellatrix looked slightly mad, laughing so hard she could barely straighten up.

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

"I never expected this. Do you like your big sister? But you're a little late—"

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

Bellatrix gave a soft snort through her nose, lifting the corner of her mouth mockingly as she murmured almost inaudibly, "Why bring up that idiot?"

"I'm glad we can agree on that."

Snape gave a brief, low chuckle and said in a hushed voice:

"But compared to his stupidity, I am clearly more jealous of his luck."

"Is that so? Unfortunately, compared to Lestrange, it is not just his luck you need to envy, Snape."

Bellatrix pronounced Snape's surname one syllable at a time.

She ran the tip of her tongue over her thin lips, all the while staring fixedly into Snape's eyes.

"Your change is truly surprising..."

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

Yet at that moment, he felt a strange sense of detachment—as though a transparent curtain stood between him and that venomous snake.

He seemed able to choose which thoughts to show her.

Images flashed through his mind like scenes from a film:

The Marauders' attack, the suffocating humiliation, the girl's contemptuous gaze, strands of hair falling in the mirror, Bellatrix's beautiful face, a trace of possessive longing...

"Enough!"

Snape snarled angrily under his breath, staggering back several steps and knocking over a chair.

"Bellatrix, enough!"

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

He drew a deep breath and spoke in a low, trembling voice, yet lowered his head to avoid Bellatrix's gaze.

"Quiet, Severus."

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

"Sit down, and put away those filthy thoughts.

"Be loyal to the master, and you will naturally receive rewards that many Wizards cannot even dream of."

She swept her gaze around the room and said, "The same goes for all of you. The master will not overlook any loyal servant.

"To help you serve the master better in the future, let us return to today's topic.

"Since all of you have finished your fifth year, I shall lay some groundwork for your sixth-year studies. Today, we will learn how to use the three Unforgivable Curses. Afterward, you may find opportunities to practise them as much as you like..."

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

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

"About the Dark Lord's rewards, Bellatrix." He wanted to confirm something. "I heard that the Dark Lord grants certain special rewards to particularly loyal servants."

Snape asked in a tone that mingled fear with a trace of greed:

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

Bellatrix seemed as though the question had struck a nerve. The tips of her ears flushed pink, and she said in a voice several degrees louder than when she had been teaching:

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

"As an ancient and noble Black, your loyalty needs no questioning."

Snape hurriedly made a gesture of farewell to her, then turned and left the pub.

Fortunately, Bellatrix's belief in pure-blood supremacy ran so deep. Otherwise, he really would have been in some danger today.

Sooner or later, he would make that madwoman kneel at his feet.

Unfortunately, what he had learned at such risk could hardly be called good news.

Hufflepuff's Cup probably had not yet been hidden in the Lestrange family vault.

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

His washed clothes had already been neatly folded at the foot of his bed.