Snape decided he would still make a trip to the Hog's Head.
Not for any particular reason, if blame were to be laid, it was on Voldemort for having thrown the wizarding world into utter chaos.
In the original course of events, the casualty rate among their 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, light and dark, were nearly wiped out.
Even Gilderoy Lockhart, that useless junior, ended up a patient in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, sharing the same ward with Frank and Alice Longbottom.
When he thought about it, it seemed that only the Malfoy family, who could barely scrape together one intact wand between them, managed to survive wholly intact.
In his previous life, as a veteran Potterhead, there was no way he would sit back and do nothing now.
If he didn't stir up this world himself, turning it upside down, and didn't stick the charging plug straight into Tom-brand's two-pronged socket, wouldn't that be a wasted trip?
Therefore, a day without Voldemort was the best kind of day.
Now was not yet the time to cut ties with the Death Eaters completely. Other than the ring buried in the ruins of the Gaunt shack and the diadem hidden in the Room of Requirement, he did not know the whereabouts of the other Horcruxes.
Turning into a narrow alley beside the post office, Snape saw a shabby little pub.
The tavern's weathered wooden sign hung on a rusted iron bracket above the doorframe.
On the sign was painted the severed head of a wild boar, blood seeping through the white cloth that wrapped it.
Whenever the wind blew, the sign let out a creaking groan.
Snape pushed open the door. A broad beam of dust-filled sunlight sliced the room in half.
With a creak, the door swung shut again, and the sunlight instantly disappeared.
His pupils dilated rapidly as he tried to adjust to the gloom.
It was a small, dark room. Thick grime coated the mullioned windows, blocking most of the light. A few stubby, half-melted candles flickered on rough wooden tables.
The entire place reeked heavily of mutton.
Aside from several Hogwarts students huddled at a table farthest from the bar, most of the patrons wore hoods.
Avery, Mulciber, along with Regulus and little Crouch, were among them.
He had once ceremoniously gifted the Death Eaters the Muffliato spell.
That way, even in the Hog's Head, they had no need to worry about eavesdropping.
As Snape arrived, the indistinct buzzing voices from that table suddenly cut off.
Amidst the gathering, a hooded woman tilted her chin, lounging lazily in a battered armchair with the air of someone reclining on a throne.
"What are you doing here?"
"I've come for our shared purpose."
"You still have the guts to come here?"
The woman sneered, her lips curling with disdain, eyes half-lidded.
"How am I to take that, Bellatrix?"
"How are you to take that?" Bellatrix suddenly cackled, repeating Snape's words in a shrill voice.
She leapt to her feet and strode toward Snape, locking eyes with him.
"Little Sev, your friends tell me that, compared to them, you seem to prefer those stinking little Mudbloods."
"Compared to everything foul-smelling, yes, that includes the two of them."
Snape studied Bellatrix's striking face with an amused gaze.
"It seems I've only just realized that there are better, purer, and far more appealing things in this world-"
A peal of manic laughter cut him off. Bellatrix looked deranged, laughing so hard she nearly doubled over.
"Ah... little Sev." She tucked a few sleek strands of black hair behind her ear, wiping at the corner of her eye with the back of her hand.
"I never would have thought it. So you like older girls? But you've come a bit late-"
"Yes, I regret that. Lucius told me you and Rodolphus had a wedding a few months ago."
Bellatrix gave a soft, dismissive snort, her lips twisting into a mocking sneer. In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, "Why mention that fool?"
"I'm glad we can agree on that much."
Snape gave a short, hoarse laugh, his voice low as he continued, "But compared to his stupidity, I clearly envy his luck more."
"Is that so? Too bad that, compared with Lestrange, what you have to envy is not just his luck, Snape."
Bellatrix pronounced his surname with deliberate emphasis, her tongue flicking against her thin lips as she locked eyes with him.
"Your recent changes are truly startling..."
In that instant, Snape felt her icy gaze boring into his pupils like an awl, probing like a snake flicking its tongue at its prey.
But this time, he felt strangely detached, as though a transparent curtain separated him from this serpent.
It almost seemed like he could choose which thoughts to show her.
Images flashed through his mind like scenes on a film reel: the Marauders' attacks, suffocating humiliation, a girl's scornful glance, strands of hair falling in a mirror, Bellatrix's beautiful face, a flicker of possessive desire...
"Enough!"
Snape growled in a low, furious voice, staggering backward a few steps and knocking over a chair.
"Bellatrix, enough!"
"How dare you... how can you..."
He took a deep breath and spoke in a low, trembling voice, his head lowered to avoid her eyes.
"Be silent, Severus."
Bellatrix dropped lazily back into her armchair, resuming her indolent pose.
"Sit down, and stow those filthy thoughts. Loyalty to the Master will earn you rewards beyond the wildest dreams of any wizard."
Her gaze swept the circle. "The same goes for all of you. The Master does not overlook any loyal servant. To ensure you can better serve the Master in the future, let us return to today's lesson."
"Since you have all completed your fifth year of studies, I will help lay the foundation for your sixth year. Today, we will learn the use of the three Unforgivable Curses. Afterward, you can find chances to practice them yourselves..."
The candles on the table burned steadily downward, their flames shifting from yellow to a deep orange-red.
When the gathering ended, Snape deliberately lingered behind.
"As for the Dark Lord's rewards, Bellatrix," he asked cautiously, "I have heard that for particularly faithful servants, the Dark Lord grants them special rewards."
Snape's tone was tinged with fear, but also with a trace of greed.
"Do you know what those special rewards might be?"
Bellatrix reacted as though struck by a nerve. Her ears flushed pink, and in a voice pitched higher than her lecture, she snapped:
"The Master will see in time. I am his most faithful and most reliable servant!"
"As a proud and noble Black, your loyalty is naturally beyond doubt."
Snape quickly made a parting gesture, then turned and left the pub.
Thankfully, Bellatrix's obsession with pure-blood supremacy was so deeply ingrained. Otherwise, today might truly have been dangerous.
Someday, he would make this madwoman kneel at his feet.
Unfortunately, his risky venture had not yielded good news.
Helga Hufflepuff's cup, at this point in time, should not yet have been hidden within the Lestrange family vault.
After making his way back to the castle and eating supper in the Great Hall, Snape returned to his dormitory.
His freshly laundered clothes were already neatly folded at the foot of his bed.