After a thorough wash, Severus Snape returned to the dormitory.
Avery and Mulciber lay sprawled across their beds, limbs dangling outside their blankets, mouths slightly agape, snoring in a discordant symphony.
"Idiots," Snape muttered under his breath, pulling out his wand and flicking it toward his four-poster bed.
"Muffliato."
The thought that this spell was originally invented to help him sleep through snoring struck him as faintly ridiculous.
Tossing his soiled clothes into the empty laundry basket, Snape sank onto his pillow.
"Ugh, tomorrow I've got to go to the Hog's Head for that Walpurgis gathering," he sighed heavily, sifting through his memories. "It's practically a Death Eater recruitment camp, isn't it…"
Staring at the faintly discernible silver-and-green striped curtains in the darkness, accompanied by an indistinct buzzing in his ears, Snape tried calling out "System" and "Grandfather" in both Chinese and English a few times. Receiving no response, he finally drifted into sleep.
The next morning, Snape woke early.
After a moment's thought, he dragged his trunk out from under the bed.
It held little: a worn set of Gobstones, a few tattered books passed down from his mother. Among them was Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage, grimy and dog-eared from frequent use.
Rummaging through the trunk, Snape pulled out a pair of ill-fitting, threadbare jeans and slipped them on beneath his robes.
He never wore such unsightly Muggle clothes at Hogwarts, but caution dictated otherwise. If the Marauders ambushed him, this might offer at least some protection.
The rustling woke the others.
Avery's jaw dropped, staring at Snape, then shaking his head in disbelief, rubbing his eyes.
"Get dressed. Let's go to breakfast," Snape said, sensing Avery's curiosity but unwilling to entertain it.
Along the way, students pointed, whispered, and stifled laughter.
It took all his restraint not to fling a few Avada Kedavra curses their way—maybe make their noses bleed for good measure.
Hidden beneath his sleeve, Snape subtly aimed his wand at the crowd, muttering, "Langlock."
The whispers choked off instantly.
Several students clutched their throats, tongues glued to the roofs of their mouths, unable to speak.
The world was finally quiet.
Seated at the table, Snape piled his plate with pork chops, beefsteak, and lamb cutlets.
As he ate, he mused, "The house-elves really know their craft. I should eat more meat, maybe find a way to train and get stronger.
"But the priority is getting off Tom's sinking ship. Double agent, triple agent—neither seems to end well.
"Besides, I'm not keen on playing nanny for seven years, only to have Potter broadcast my secrets to the entire school after I'm dead.
"Death Eater reserve… surely it's not as binding as the real thing. That's a problem.
"Voldemort should have five Horcruxes at this point: the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem. Nagini and Harry haven't had the honor yet."
Chewing slowly, Snape's gaze drifted unconsciously to the staff table at the head of the Great Hall.
Behind half-moon spectacles, a pair of piercing blue eyes met his for a fleeting second.
Snape jolted, cold sweat prickling his skin.
He quickly ducked his head, staring at his plate, grabbing his knife to slice the steak with feigned focus.
"Damn it, I nearly forgot about him.
"Good thing I should know Occlumency. Not sure if last night's episode affected it, though. I'll need to test it soon…"
Outside the castle, a crimson sun bathed the grounds in light.
A breeze skimmed the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, glinting with flecks of deep green.
Argus Filch stood inside the main doors, clutching a long list, scrutinizing every face to ensure no unauthorized students slipped out.
The group passed through the gates, between the towering stone pillars topped with winged boars, and veered left onto the path to Hogsmeade.
As they walked past Zonko's Joke Shop, Mulciber decided to stock up on Dungbombs and prank supplies.
Though uninterested, Snape opted against going off alone.
He lingered in the shade by the door, watching flocks of owls—big, small, and every color—flit in and out of the post office, hooting softly.
"Look who's there," Mulciber said, emerging from the shop with a large paper bag, Avery at his side.
Lily Evans and her roommate Mary Macdonald were strolling down the lane, chatting cheerfully.
"Perfect chance to test the new stuff," Mulciber grinned, reaching into the bag for a Dungbomb.
As he raised it to throw, Snape instinctively drew his wand.
"Protego!"
An invisible barrier sprang up, the force knocking Avery and Mulciber flat on their backs.
Dungbombs, Stink Pellets, and Belch Powder spilled across the ground, rolling in every direction.
Snape froze, retracting his hand as if the action hadn't been his own.
But what was done was done.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Mulciber and Avery scrambled up, covered in dust, glaring through the transparent shield.
"Severus, have you lost it?" Avery snapped.
"Leave them alone, alright?" Snape said.
"What? For those two Mud—"
"Don't say that word!" Snape shouted.
His lowered arm rose again, eyes locked on them.
Avery and Mulciber drew their wands, but despite the two-on-one odds, they hesitated to strike first.
"Listen, Severus, don't forget who you are," Mulciber warned.
"I don't need you to remind me, Mulciber," Snape shot back.
The sun neared its zenith, the air thick and stifling, clinging to every inch of skin.
A breeze stirred behind Snape, and a familiar figure stepped through the heat to his side.
Mary approached, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.
Snape hadn't expected anyone to stand with him—least of all Mary.
What a remarkable girl, he thought. After all the times his group had tormented her with Dark Magic, she'd still passed messages to Lily for him, and now stood by his side.
Then Lily stepped forward, joining Mary.
Snape instinctively avoided her gaze, unable to look at her.
"Mulciber, are you sure you want to take me on?" Snape asked, making a show of lowering his wand.
Mulciber shot him a venomous look, then grabbed Avery, gathered their scattered items, and stormed off.
"Thank you, Mary," Snape said, a touch uncertain.
Mary nodded and walked away.
Even after Mary and Lily had gone, Snape remained rooted to the spot.
The Hog's Head—go or not? That was the question.