Severus Snape decided to pay a visit to the Hog's Head.
Not for any particular reason, except perhaps to blame Lord Voldemort for turning the wizarding world into a cesspool of chaos.
In the original story's trajectory, the casualty rate for their generation was, frankly, a bit too high. Lily, himself, Regulus Black, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Barty Crouch Jr., Bellatrix Lestrange... both sides, good and evil, had been nearly wiped out.
Even that fraud of a junior, Gilderoy Lockhart, had ended up in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, sharing a ward with Frank and Alice Longbottom.
After some thought, it seemed the only ones to survive unscathed were the Malfoys, a family that couldn't muster a single decent wand between them.
In his past life as a diehard Harry Potter fan, Snape had no intention of sitting idly by. If he didn't personally turn this world upside down, plugging the charger into Tom Riddle's two-pronged socket, wouldn't this whole trip be for nothing?
Having landed in this grand, turbulent world, he couldn't just live a mediocre life, could he?
Now wasn't the time to completely sever ties 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 clue where the other Horcruxes were.
Turning down a narrow path beside the post office, Snape spotted a small pub.
The pub's weathered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket above the doorframe. It depicted a severed boar's head, blood seeping through the white cloth wrapped around it. Each gust of wind sent the sign creaking and groaning.
Snape pushed the door open, and a thick beam of dusty sunlight sliced the room in two. As the door creaked shut behind him, the light vanished.
His pupils dilated quickly, struggling to adjust to the dimness.
It was a small, gloomy room. The few bay windows were caked with grime, letting in barely any light. Half-melted candle stubs flickered on rough wooden tables. The whole place reeked of a strong, goaty stench.
Apart from a group of Hogwarts students huddled around the table farthest from the bar, most patrons wore hooded cloaks. Avery, Mulciber, Regulus, and Crouch Jr. were among them.
Snape had once offered up the Muffliato Charm to the Death Eaters like a gift. With it, they could speak freely in the Hog's Head without fear of eavesdroppers.
As Snape approached, the indistinct buzz of conversation from the wooden table abruptly stopped.
At the center of the group, a hooded woman tilted her chin upward, lounging in a tattered armchair with the air of someone reclining on a throne.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I'm here for our shared purpose."
"You dare show your face here?"
The woman's lips curled into a sneer, her eyelids half-lowered, her tone dripping with disdain.
"And how should I take that, Bellatrix?"
"How should I take that?" Bellatrix echoed in a shrill, mocking giggle, repeating Snape's words.
She shot to her feet and strode toward him, locking eyes.
"Little Sev," she said, "your friends tell me you seem to prefer the company of filthy little Mudbloods over them."
"Compared to all the filthy things in this world," Snape replied, his gaze lingering on Bellatrix's refined features with a hint of amusement, "including those two."
"I've only just realized there's something better, purer, that I prefer—"
A burst of wild laughter cut him off. Bellatrix looked half-mad, doubled over with hysterics.
"Oh… little Sev," she said, brushing a few sleek, glossy strands of black hair behind her ear and wiping a tear from her eye. "Who'd have thought? Do you fancy your big sister? But you're a bit late, aren't you?"
"Indeed, I'm sorry to hear it," Snape said. "Lucius tells me you and Rodolphus tied the knot a few months ago."
Bellatrix let out a soft snort, her lips twisting into a mocking smirk. In a barely audible whisper, she muttered, "Why bring up that idiot?"
"I'm glad we agree on something," Snape said, a short, low chuckle escaping him as he leaned in. "Though, compared to his stupidity, I'm far more jealous of his luck."
"Oh, really?" Bellatrix said, enunciating his surname with deliberate slowness. "Pity, Snape, but compared to Lestrange, it's not just his luck you should envy."
Her tongue flicked across her thin lips as she fixed her gaze on his eyes.
"You've changed, haven't you? It's… surprising."
In that instant, Snape felt Bellatrix's icy stare bore into his pupils like a dagger, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, probing for prey.
But something strange happened—a detached sensation, as if a transparent veil separated him from the serpent. He felt as though he could choose which thoughts to reveal.
Images flashed through his mind like a film reel: the Marauders' ambush, suffocating humiliation, a girl's scornful gaze, strands of hair falling in a mirror, Bellatrix's beautiful face, a flicker of possessive desire…
"Enough!" Snape roared under his breath, stumbling back and knocking over a chair. "Bellatrix, enough!"
"How dare you… how could you…"
He took a deep breath, his voice low and trembling, avoiding her gaze.
"Quiet, Severus," Bellatrix said, sinking back into her armchair, resuming her languid pose. "Sit down and keep your filthy thoughts to yourself.
"Stay loyal to the Master, and you'll receive rewards most wizards can only dream of."
She glanced around the room. "The same goes for all of you. The Master doesn't overlook any loyal servant.
"To better serve him in the future, let's return to today's agenda. Since you've all finished your fifth year, I'll give you a head start on your sixth-year curriculum. Today, we'll learn how to use the three Unforgivable Curses. Afterward, you can find opportunities to practice on your own…"
The candles on the wooden table burned lower, their flames shifting from yellow to orange-red.
As the meeting ended, Snape lingered deliberately.
"About the Dark Lord's rewards, Bellatrix," he said, probing for answers. "I've heard that for his most loyal servants, the Dark Lord grants special favors."
His tone carried a mix of fear and greed. "Do you know what those special rewards might be?"
Bellatrix's ears flushed pink, as if his words had struck a nerve. Her voice rose a few notches above her teaching tone. "The Master will see it in the end—I am his most loyal, most reliable servant!"
"As a member of the ancient and noble House of Black, your loyalty is beyond question," Snape said quickly, giving her a parting gesture before turning to leave the pub.
Thank Merlin for Bellatrix's deep-rooted pure-blood supremacy, or he might've been in real danger today.
One day, he'd make that madwoman kneel at his feet.
Unfortunately, the risk hadn't yielded good news. Hufflepuff's Cup likely wasn't yet hidden in the Lestrange family vault.
After walking back to the castle and eating dinner in the Great Hall, Snape returned to his dormitory.
His freshly laundered clothes were neatly folded at the foot of his bed.