"You've traveled a long way, Professor."
"About three thousand miles. All in one summer."
Skyl poured Nord Mead into the cup across from him.
They were sitting beside a classroom desk. The cauldron that had previously been used to brew potions had been removed, replaced by a bubbling copper pot. Steam rose from the clear broth as it simmered over the heat.
Old Bat Snape tossed his hair.
Skyl watched him carefully for a moment, confirming that he hadn't shaken any dandruff into the pot.
Snape picked up a plate of sliced mushrooms and tipped them into the broth. He then grabbed a plate of romaine lettuce and added that as well.
Meanwhile, Skyl prepared his dipping sauce. He dropped two chunks of blue cheese into a small bowl, added a spoonful of ranch dressing, another of chive sauce, and a generous helping of chili oil. After stirring everything together with a spoon, he tasted a little to check the seasoning.
Snape frowned when he saw the blue cheese.
Everyone had different tastes. He had never particularly cared for blue cheese or creamy dressings, but he was quite fond of spicy garlic butter.
"Why aren't you cooking the meat first?" Skyl asked casually.
"It'll make everything taste like meat!" Snape replied coldly.
They were enjoying a simple meal of simmering broth and assorted ingredients in an empty classroom late at night. With nobody around to disturb them, it was an excellent opportunity to chat.
"What made you decide to return to Hogwarts?" Skyl asked.
"Didn't you come back as well?"
"When did I ever leave?"
Snape didn't immediately understand what he meant.
After a moment of contemplation, he nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes. I suppose I feel the same way."
Skyl smiled and changed the subject.
"You used the Imperius Curse and the Killing Curse on Cornish pixies during class today. As a representative of the entire pixie population, I must formally condemn your actions."
Holding his mug, Snape asked indifferently, "You weren't in class. How do you know I cast those spells on the pixies?"
"I know a little about everything."
"Then do you know those pixies were nothing more than enchanted dummies?"
The old bat smiled triumphantly.
"They looked remarkably lifelike, didn't they? If I'm going to imitate Mad-Eye Moody, I have to put some effort into it. I need to behave like a proper lunatic, or Dumbledore will become suspicious."
"And you think he isn't already suspicious?"
Skyl gave him a disdainful smile.
"Old Bumblebee hasn't gone senile just yet. Where have you hidden the real Alastor Moody?"
"Under the bed in my office. There's a suitcase with an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. It's spacious enough to accommodate five fat pigs. Moody is sleeping quite comfortably inside."
Skyl clicked his tongue.
"Now that's a proper Death Eater's approach. You've even put his artificial eye on your face. Doesn't that feel strange? And how exactly do you intend to keep fooling the old wizard? He's not someone you can easily deceive. The moment he gets an opportunity to resist, he'll bite back. Be careful he doesn't end up killing you."
Snape replied calmly, "The Draught of Living Death and the Imperius Curse. Fortunately, I participated in the central brain experiment last year, so I've learned how to weave memories. Moody won't notice anything unusual in his dreams. As long as I play his role properly, those memories will become experiences he believes he actually lived through. I can withdraw at any time without leaving any evidence behind."
"You'll still need to find a way to fool the central brain. There's no such thing as personal privacy in the information age. Whenever you use the Handbook (the Manual), the central brain records your thought-strings. Every person's soul is different, and those differences are perfectly obvious to it."
Snape's expression shifted subtly as he realized the difficulty of that particular problem.
Skyl continued mercilessly.
"And then there's the Marauder's Map. Remember that? Your supposedly perfect disguise is actually riddled with holes. James Potter is currently one of the central brain's maintenance personnel, and he also helped invent the Marauder's Map. If he starts suspecting your identity, it won't take him long to expose you.
"Just imagine. A man you've always hated, who also happens to be your wife's childhood sweetheart, has changed his appearance and infiltrated the place where she works. Anyone would be on edge, wouldn't they?"
"I'll deal with it."
The old bat remained as stubborn as ever.
"At the very least, the Guide should have a solution."
"Don't look so miserable, Professor. Come on, have a drink. Did you come back just to see Ms. Lily Evans?"
"No. There are other things I'm worried about."
Snape rolled up his sleeve, revealing a horrifying tattoo on the inside of his forearm.
It depicted a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth.
This was the Dark Mark, the symbol Voldemort had branded onto his most trusted Death Eaters.
After Voldemort died at the Potters' home all those years ago, the Dark Marks on his followers had gradually faded.
Now, however, the mark had reappeared.
Although it was still faint and displayed the inactive red coloration, its return was enough to make anyone uneasy.
Skyl pursed his lips in boredom.
"Voldemort again? Do you seriously think Hogwarts needs to worry about someone like Voldemort anymore? Times have changed, Professor Snape. Believe it or not, even the headmaster's personal assistant could take care of him."
"You mean Gellert?"
Snape lowered his sleeve.
"He doesn't look like a good person. But he's not a Death Eater, either. At least, I never saw him around Voldemort back then. Regardless, Voldemort has indeed returned. Or at least, part of him has."
Snape began recounting his experiences over the summer.
After having a long conversation with Lily, the gloomy man who had spent so many years trapped by guilt had finally been released from his seemingly endless burden.
Unfortunately, he had no idea what to do with himself afterward.
And so he embarked on a solitary journey without any particular destination.
He let his footsteps carry him forward, allowing the passage of time to gradually change him.
He traveled across continental Europe and the Middle East, leaving the wizarding world behind and wandering through Muggle communities.
He ate croissants, wore an Arab keffiyeh, and witnessed the frenzied arms trafficking that swept Eastern Europe following the collapse of the Soviet Union.
He even found himself caught up in a local Muggle war and narrowly avoided having his skull pierced by a sniper's bullet.
Eventually, after reaching the Far East, he turned around and made his way back to London, completing an enormous circuit.
"Muggles have a much greater variety of ways to slaughter one another than wizards do," Snape remarked sarcastically.
After returning to London, the Dark Mark on the old bat's arm began to ache.
The Quidditch World Cup was taking place around that time, and the entire wizarding world's attention had been drawn to the event.
It was the perfect opportunity for someone to operate unnoticed amid the confusion.
"When I arrived, I discovered that the one who had summoned us was a deranged house-elf. But the way it spoke was unmistakably Voldemort's."
"And then?"
"I discovered what was driving it mad. A locket. It was actually one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Voldemort ordered me to return to Hogwarts, capture Harry, and deliver the boy to him as an offering."
"You didn't agree."
"No. I didn't."
Snape's voice emerged from deep within his throat, and the cup in his hand trembled slightly.
"Instead, I destroyed the locket with Fiendfyre."
He paused.
"I killed him once. But who's to say there won't be a second time? From that day onward, I became Voldemort's enemy. That's why I have to make preparations in advance. Ideally, I want to extinguish the spark before it can become a disaster.
"...I don't like this feeling. The feeling that I could die at any moment. Voldemort's most terrifying magic isn't the Killing Curse. It's fear. Even today, the wizarding world hasn't escaped his shadow."
He lowered his gaze.
"And neither have I."
Skyl rested his cheek against his hand and spoke softly.
"Courage. That's what separates you from the Death Eaters. You have courage."
"No."
Snape covered his face with his hands.
The crow's-feet around his eyes resembled the dried-up riverbeds left behind by tears shed long ago.
"No, I don't. I'm a coward through and through."
"You're drunk, Professor."
Skyl looked at him for a moment.
"Well, at least you're a drunk right now. Have something to eat. And next time, don't spend the entire evening drinking to your sorrows."
Snape composed himself and began adding thinly sliced beef and lamb to the copper pot.
Such was the remarkable ability of adults to rein in their emotions at a moment's notice.
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