Saturday on which we went to Hogsmeade was hot and steamy. I had an inkling that there would be a storm at the end of the day, yet I still hoped that it would not happen before we got back to the castle. During the rain the path which led from the village to Hogwarts became slippery, so walking down the road was nothing pleasant.
The visit in the Hog's Head Inn was nothing pleasant, either, since the room which we were given was tiny and inside, I felt as though no-one had ever opened the window there, not to mention getting rid of the thick layer of dust which lay on every surface. Maybe if it was any less steamy outside, waiting for Lucius Malfoy would not seem to take so long.
"You know," I said quietly to Severus, who kept staring at some spot in front of him. "If I were to testify in your case as a defence witness... they would have no reason to convict you. In this case, there would be no need to remove you from the Potions teacher job at Hogwarts. If I..."
"Silence, Shirley," growled Snape. "You're not going to testify in any case. You're not going to stick your neck out for me."
"So you think I'll just keep quiet when you..."
"Yes, you will keep quiet," he answered emphatically, finally turning his head to look at me. Our eyes met, and I frowned.
That was, though, when the door opened and at the threshold stood no-one else but Lucius Malfoy himself. The bartender bowed his head a little, glared a bit ominously in our direction, then closed the door – and hopefully walked away.
"Well, well, well..." murmured Malfoy, and I blinked. I had already heard that voice somewhere, but I could not remember when and where.
Severus nodded his head a bit, as though in a greeting, then gestured towards the seat next to him at the table. I could not help but watch the blond gentleman as he walked calmly up to the chair and sat on it. He looked like he had aged a lot in a very short time. Around his eyes he had many little wrinkles, however, his light, pale eyes seemed to be immensely penetrating.
No wonder, I thought, that McGonagall and Snape collaborated with him... he seemed to be an influential and extremely intelligent person. However, only later on did I discover how right I was.
"Recently you get in trouble surprisingly easily, Snape," sang Malfoy, leaning his cane against the table top. I was a bit struck by the view of the knob in the shape of a silver snake head. "If I weren't so sure it's you, I could start doubting."
"Enough with the jokes, Malfoy," snapped Snape. "I don't need your company, I need your influence."
The corner of Malfoy's mouth twitched slightly, but that smile did not seem to embrace his eyes, which remained cold, as though dead, even if still shockingly astute.
"Oh, of course," answered the blond. Although those were just two plain words, they sounded a bit like an insult. Involuntarily, under the table I curled my hands into fists. I still was not certain what was between the two men, because when I had talked to Snape face-to-face, he had spoken about Malfoy with deep respect, but now, I had got a strange feeling that they felt aversion towards each other, perhaps even disgust.
Hesitantly, I glanced at Snape, not quite sure if I should speak up. Therefore I left speaking to him. Yes, I was supposed to help him, but I had an impression that currently he just wanted me to know as much as possible about the whole case, not to comment on it.
"If I understood you well, you're still... in... good relations with the Ministry's employees," said Snape after a while of silence. The look he served to Malfoy caused even me to shiver a bit. However, Lucius, though, looked completely unimpressed.
"I do have certain sources," the latter agreed. "In many cases gold is quite helpful while finding friends. Therefore, even if I'm not friends with those whose help you might need, I am certain I'll be able to... reconcile with them.
The tone of his voice made me alert, but I had heard before that Lucius Malfoy was one of those people who were affluent and could use their wealth. Whether it was a proper way to use their wealth or not, it would be hard to judge; for sure, he did use it to achieve his goals. And if he had agreed to help Severus...
"I must get to know if Death Eaters entered the ranks of the Ministry," answered Snape. This time, he spoke openly, even bluntly, which shocked not only me, but Malfoy as well; the latter moved back a bit. His sight for a moment landed on the cane by his side. "And if so, who it is."
For a moment silent fell in the room; I was convinced that both of the men were listening intently, as though trying to catch the sounds that would indicate that someone was eavesdropping. However, we could only hear the bartender sweeping the floor downstairs.
"Well, well... Severus... I haven't expected such a question," Malfoy replied finally. "And it is incredibly... difficult."
"But you know the answer," answered Snape, using such a tone that Malfoy could not even try to argue. "There's no-one else who would know as much about the Ministry as you do, Malfoy."
The blond cleared his throat, and then, to my surprise, smiled softly. At last, he stood up and walked up to a horribly dirty window, through which one actually could not see anything at all. However, the man seemed to be watching something outside.
"At the Ministry, there's no-one who'd have served the Dark Lord in the days of his splendour," he said after a long while. "There's also no-one who would have served him after his revival and during the war... However, there are a couple of people who... attracted my attention."
"In what way?" asked Snape emphatically.
"Calm down, Snape." Malfoy turned back to cast a glance at Severus. I was astonished by how different they were... and yet, how much similarities they shared. "You say it as if you didn't know I was aware of the... value of such information."
"I don't care about money, Malfoy. Name your price."
In response, we heard a short, quiet, cold laughter. Lucius walked over to the table and propped both of his hands on it.
"I have enough gold, Snape. I need something... different," he said at last. "A favour for a favour, like the old days."
Across Snape's face rushed some strange shadow, as though he was reminded of something he would rather not remember. At that moment, I regretted being there. Yes, I was aware of the fact that my presence there was necessary, but I had got a feeling that thewhole conversation was in some peculiar way... intimate. As though two old friends were talking about things about which only the two of them could know.
"Agreed," answered Snape.
Lucius raised his brow a little, then smiled in a way that made it somehow very similar to Severus's triumphant smirk. The man straightened up, then folded his arms over his chest, then walked over to the window once again. Only then did I realise how pale he was; his skin's hue was almost the same as his hair colour.
"The names mentioned are not unknown to you," said Malfoy after a while. "I'm surprised, though, that the case from a few years ago taught them nothing... The parents of the majority of them ended up in Azkaban after the war."
"You missed that pleasure," replied Snape roughly.
"Good," immediately answered Malfoy, "because thanks to this you have an informant at your beck and call. You're no-one special, Snape. Information has its price, and I know it perfectly. If there was someone who offered me more than..."
"Names, Malfoy, or there's no agreement," growled Snape.
In the room there was sudden silence. I frowned a little. Even the sound of sweeping the floor had died out; I hoped the bartender was not eavesdropping behind the door. I had no idea how much he knew, but I definitely did not think that the things that were discussed there should ever come to light.
"For God's sake," Malfoy sighed, then in a quick motion reached for his wand and waved it towards the door, which immediately opened. In the doorway was no-one but the bartender himself, staring at us from underneath the bushy eyebrows.
"I told you to leave us alone," hissed Snape.
"I've heard something that caught my attention," answered the grey-haired man, not even trying to lie that he had heard nothing, that he had not been eavesdropping. He came limping into the room. I was surpirsed by the fact that neither Snape nor Malfoy tried to stop him. "And I won't say I'm glad to hear that it's happening once again."
"Do you know something about it?" asked Snape calmly.
The elderly man smiled quite mysteriously. Softly, he waved his wand, and after a moment into the room flew a tray on which were four incredibly filthy glasses and a carafe full of amber-coloured liquid. The man sat down, and the liquor poured itself into the glasses.
"I've heard a little something," admitted the bartender. "Being the owner of an inn does have its perks. Especially when it's an inn like this."
Malfoy turned back, curiously glancing at the inconspicuous bartender, whose piercing eyes was in some way similar to Lucius's gaze. But it were not Lucius's eyes the elder man's eyes resembled the most...
"Some of them are nitwits," continued the man. "Otherwise they wouldn't have appeared here right after the war. It's not a safe place for them... especially so close to Hogwarts... as I live and breathe... they reckon people can't think. But sometimes it's enough to put two and two together."
Snape seemed to be irritated, but said nothing; he only gave the bartender a disapproving glance which I knew perfectly well from when I had still attended Potions classes. I bit my lips and looked away.
I could not help feeling that in a very short time the things had gone much futher than we had thought. Or maybe they had been that far for a very long time, but we had just found out about them. I was afraid that it might already be too late, that the disaster was already inevitable... and the vision of another war scared me the most.
"It is said that some of the Death Eaters avoided getting caught after the war. That somehow they managed to run away, and the Ministry's trying to cover it up, 'cause it'd make them lose respect, which they recovered with such difficulty. In turn, others are sitting nicely in prison, waiting for the right time. A few mentioned even that the guards at the Azkaban had been bribed, and when the time comes, they'll set the prisoners free."
His quite creepy smile sent chills down my spine. Snape looked at Malfoy, and the latter returned his pretty alarmed glance.
"Have you heard any names?" Snape suddenly asked the bartender, who took a nice swig from one of the glasses. Only then did he nod.
"Aye, I have," he muttered, watching the glass get filled once more. "For sure, Avery, but he's not the boss there."
"We already know about Avery," Snape interrupted him. Both Malfoy and the bartender looked at him in amazement. "Go on."
"So then... the Carrows. It seems that it was Avery who saved them from Azkaban, but now, they're hiding somewhere," answered the bartender. "They're waiting for a signal from their boss. Well, just like Mulciber and Jugson."
Snape grimaced slightly, as though the names rang a bell, but he had not expected to hear them, but it could as well be the lights playing upon his face. He sighed and wiped his face with a hand.
"Anyone else?"
Malfoy narrowed his eyes a little, leaning back against the wall. His arms were still crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed upon the grey-haired man, but when he sensed my glance on him, he glared at me, which made me look away.
"Some names that tell me nothing," answered the bartender. "Wilson. McGallagher. Rogers. That'd be all."
"Wonderful." Malfoy sneered cooly, then clapped his hand. "Give us a while, we'll pay for the whisky in a moment."
The bartender bowed, but there was some odd expression upon his face, as though he expected being paid for something more than just the liquor.
When the man had left the room, complete silence fell. I was unable to read anything from Snape's face; he stared at some point in front of him, his face expressing nothing. Malfoy finally sat down and took a sip from the dirty glass, flinching a bit. When he put it back onto the table, he drummed his fingers on the table and looked at Snape.
"And what do you think?" he asked quietly.
"I don't think he's bluffing," answered Snape finally. "After all, it's Dumbledore. A coward like no other... but he knows what war and suffering are. And he doesn't want it to happen again."
I raised my brows a bit when the name of Dumbledore was mentioned. Only then did I remember where I had seen those piercing, blue eyes before. So the bartender must have been the very brother of Albus Dumbledore.
"His words only confirmed the rumours I have also heard, Snape," said Malfoy. "At the Ministry you can hear about the promotion of Wilson, Rogers and McGallagher... apparently for some outstanding achievements, but no-one's really talking openly about what those achievements were. I have no idea who they've got, but I'm sure that their network at the Ministry is much wider than one could suspect. Or maybe," once again, he sipped from the glass, "some specific person pulls the right strings."
Snape frowned, looking at Malfoy.
"What do you mean?"
"I've heard more names, Snape. Besides those three... I know about the young Goyle. Draco knows nothing about it, and I'd rather it stay like that. Furthermore, the young Nott... Montague... Flint... Snape, these are your students."
"My former students, Malfoy," answered Snape, but the expression on his face made it clear that he was deeply shocked. He looked like he was really tired.
"Anyway... I'm glad that Draco isn't trying to get involved in the case. And Snape, please, don't try to change that." Lucius looked at him seriously. "After what's happened... after what's happened to my family, I don't want my son to go through it once again."
Severus leant back in his chair.
"None of them is the leader, right?" he asked, as though he had not been listening to Malfoy's words about his family at all.
"No... but if the rumours are true, and I doubt they could be, there's someone else. Someone behind all of this. Someone who truly desires to become the next Dark Lord."
"Who is it, Malfoy?" asked Snape vehemently.
On Lucius's face appeared a grim smirk.
"Rudolf Lestrange."