Lucius Malfoy was striding quickly through an alleyway that was utterly beneath his status, his luxurious robe almost absorbing the surrounding stench.
The place was piled with trash, plastic bags, beer bottles, and decaying waste nearly burying the original pathway. The air was filled with the acrid stench of rotting food, while yellow weeds stubbornly sprouted from cracks in the bricks and at the base of the walls, growing wildly.
Lucius Malfoy's face bore an unconcealed disgust and wariness as he struggled to avoid stepping directly into the filth on the ground. He clutched his black cloak tightly around him, as if to shield himself from the decay and squalor surrounding him.
"Damn it! Does he really live in a place like this? Keeping company with Muggle garbage heaps?"
Lucius couldn't help but mutter curses under his breath, yet he had no choice but to push on through this narrow alley, arriving at the last house. He extended his snake-headed staff and knocked sharply on the door three times.
After a moment, he heard footsteps behind the door, which soon opened a crack, revealing Snape's sallow and gaunt face, with greasy black hair hanging lank on either side.
Seeing Lucius outside, there was no surprise in his eyes, only a deep, knowing gravity.
"Lucius."
"Let's talk inside!"
Without time for the usual polite pleasantries, Lucius seemed driven by an invisible fear, sidestepped, and hurriedly squeezed through the narrow slit in the door.
Snape's sharp gaze swept over the empty alley outside, then swiftly closed the door. The heavy latch thudded into place, sealing them off from the outside world.
Snape's room was dim and cramped. Despite being a wizard adept in spells, he hadn't cast any spatial expanding charms on his living room, making it feel as confined as a cell.
Every wall was lined with books, the sofa was worn and fraying, and the armchair and table were unsteady.
In one corner near the fireplace, two motionless people lay on the floor. Their clothes were tattered, and their faces were covered in bruises and grime, looking extremely disheveled.
Lucius's gaze swept over these additional people, his eyebrows furrowed with disdain as he pointed and asked in a low voice, "Who are these people, Severus?"
Standing in the shadows, Snape replied coldly, "Two fools lacking basic intelligence and judgment. They thought this was Vid Gray's residence and planned to sneak in while no one was around to steal something like research notes to sell."
Lucius asked in shock, "How dare they?"
Even if news was scarce, they should know—the poppets owned by Vid Gray possessed high intelligence and autonomous action ability.
Even if no one was home, wouldn't he leave a few poppets to guard the house?
Snape gave a sardonic smile, "That's why they're fools. They've been addled by intelligence-robbing drugs and alcohol, capable of anything!"
"But…"
Lucius still found it somewhat odd, a bit inexplicable…
"Why would they think this is Vid Gray's place? Has that kid been coming and going here recently?"
Did Snape, besides teaching at Hogwarts, also tutor Dumbledore's favorite during holidays?
That remark seemed to hit a nerve with Snape, whose expression turned even colder, a look of affronted anger appearing on his face.
"Obviously…" Snape drawled, grinding his teeth as he spoke slowly, "this misunderstanding is naturally a carefully crafted trap by our 'beloved' headmaster... crude but effective."
Lucius involuntarily made an "ah" sound, wanting to laugh mockingly, but recalling his situation, his pale face showed a sardonic look of sympathy.
"Albus Dumbledore… People like them, always making full use of everything…"
Snape's eyebrows twitched slightly as he looked at Lucius, whose face was full of bitterness, inwardly scoffing.
"Let's sit and talk… though this place may be too plain for you."
With a wave of Snape's magic wand, a dust-covered bottle of liquor and two glasses flew over. Snape sat opposite Lucius, casually wiped the bottle, then poured each of them a glass.
"Ah, gin."
The familiar aroma seemed to awaken something in Lucius. He looked at the label on the bottle, then raised his head to look at Snape:
"I remember this… It seems like it was a Christmas gift I gave you a few years ago?"
"Indeed." Snape said indifferently, "I wouldn't spend money on something like this. So, Lucius..."
He looked directly at the other, his voice low and smooth, devoid of any emotion, "Why are you here? To reminisce?"
Lucius's expression froze slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing subtly. His eyes swiftly scanned the surroundings, then settled on the two lying on the floor.
"Don't worry," Snape said, "they won't wake up until tomorrow morning."
Lucius still appeared somewhat uneasy, but he had no other option, so with a sneaky demeanor, he pulled out a rectangular package wrapped in black dragonhide from the inside of his cloak.
"This is... what the Master needs." Lucius lowered his voice to a bare whisper, each word trembling as if squeezed through gritted teeth.
Snape's gaze immediately fell on the dragonhide package, his pupils briefly contracting imperceptibly.
He asked nothing, only slowly extended his withered hand, palm up, silently requesting it.
But Lucius did not hand it over, gripping it even tighter instead.
"I..." he swallowed, his voice trembling as he asked, "Can I... deliver it to him in person..."
"I'm afraid not," Snape said expressionlessly, "You should understand why, Lucius. The fact that the Dark Lord hasn't knocked on your door and cast an Avada Kedavra on your entire family by now is already his mercy."
Lucius had no response, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
Snape glanced at him, reaching out, but just when his fingers were about to touch the package, Lucius's fingers tightened suddenly, joints whitening from the force.
He seemed to regret handing it over directly, as if wanting to use the item for some negotiation; or perhaps driven by a deeper suspicion and fear, he clung to it stubbornly.
For a moment, they each held one end of the package, forming an eerie standoff.
The chandelier overhead held flickering candles that swayed as they burned, casting unsteady light that illuminated both their faces, reflecting the silent stares they exchanged.