Southwest England, Wiltshire.
A visitor arrived at a stately manor, the ancestral seat of a lord.
Severus Snape walked at an unhurried pace along a narrow country lane, finally coming to a halt before a pair of elaborate wrought-iron gates.
He reached out and touched the gates.
The wrought iron began to twist and deform; the abstract scrolls and flourishes contorted into a terrifying face that spoke in a resounding, metallic echo: "State your purpose."
"I am Severus. I have come to see Lucius Malfoy."
The gates swung open immediately.
Snape continued along the driveway. High hedges on his right obscured his view, though he occasionally caught glimpses of pure white tail feathers drifting above the treeline. These were the white peacocks kept by the Malfoy family.
A moment later, Snape's silhouette appeared before the stone steps of a very handsome residence.
Lucius Malfoy, dressed in exquisitely tailored, magnificent robes, stood at the door waiting for him with Draco at his side.
"Good morning, Professor," Draco greeted him with perfect etiquette. Snape, however, merely gave him a slight, cold nod.
Neither Malfoy father nor son was surprised by Snape's reaction; the "Old Bat" had always been this aloof.
"It has been a long time, Severus," Lucius said with a smile. "What wind blows you here?"
"A matter of great importance..." Snape cast a glance at Draco, who was standing beside Lucius. "Regarding that diary."
Lucius's already pale face turned a shade whiter instantly.
"Draco, go to your room."
Draco gave his father a puzzled look, but because of Lucius's long-standing authority, he did not dare to disobey.
"We shall talk in the study," Lucius said, taking the lead to show Snape the way.
The two men passed through a foyer lined with portraits and crossed a spacious, grand drawing room. After ascending a flight of stairs, they arrived in Lucius's sophisticatedly decorated study.
A roaring fire burned in the marble fireplace, dispelling the chill of the gloomy manor.
A house-elf proactively served them both coffee.
Snape leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed intently on Lucius, keenly catching every minute expression on his face.
"Are you still sufficiently loyal to the Dark Lord, Lucius?"
At the mention of the Dark Lord's name, Lucius's hand, which was stirring his coffee with a silver spoon, gave an inevitable twitch.
"Sev, my loyalty to the Dark Lord is beyond question."
Yet, a hint of panic was clearly audible in his voice.
Snape let out a cold sneer. "I don't see it that way. I believe you know exactly what happened with that diary."
Beads of cold sweat appeared on Lucius's forehead. Even the blazing fireplace could not dispel the icy dread in his heart.
Caught red-handed, the usually silver-tongued Lucius found himself at a loss for words to defend himself. His hand slid slowly toward the cane leaning against the arm of his chair—the one that concealed his wand.
"There is no need to be tense, Lucius."
Snape set down his coffee cup, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. "In truth, we are the same kind of person."
The same kind of person?
Lucius halted his subtle movements and began to ponder the meaning behind Snape's words.
Did "the same kind of person" mean... double agents?
"Horcruxes. Are you familiar with that magic?"
Snape's continued speaking, interrupting Lucius's racing thoughts.
"A Horcrux? I know of them, of course..."
Lucius answered without thinking, though he was curious why Snape had suddenly turned the conversation toward the Dark Arts.
A possibility struck Lucius's mind like a bolt of lightning, and he was instantly drenched in cold sweat.
"Then did you know that the diary you used to frame the Weasleys was, in fact, one of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes?"
The coffee cup slipped from Lucius's hand and shattered on the floor. The liquid instantly stained a large patch of the clean, tidy carpet and soaked Lucius's polished leather shoes.
But Lucius couldn't care less about that now.
"Sev, what is it you want?"
Snape pushed up the left sleeve of his robes. "I want you to contact the former Death Eaters. Assemble them."
Lucius's eyes widened in disbelief; he was clearly terrified by what Snape was saying.
He shook his head repeatedly. "No, Severus... I finally have the stable life I have today..."
Snape strode forward, leaning across the desk between them, and thrust the faded mark on his left forearm before Lucius's eyes.
"Do you think you have a choice, Lucius?" Snape's voice was rasping. "The Dark Lord possesses more than one Horcrux."
Lucius looked at Snape in horror.
"According to Dumbledore's deductions, the Dark Lord has at least two or more Horcruxes. But even his deductions are far too conservative."
Snape lowered his sleeve, concealing the Dark Mark on his arm once more.
"As far as the Horcruxes I know of currently, there are four!"
"Do you think you were the only one granted the honor of safeguarding a Horcrux for the Dark Lord?"
"Over a decade ago, he entrusted two other Horcruxes to Bellatrix Lestrange and Regulus Black, respectively."
Lucius slumped into his chair, shell-shocked, gasping for breath.
The news Snape had dropped was far too staggering; he couldn't process it all at once.
As he regained his senses, a profound fear surged within Lucius—a boundless terror that threatened to consume him.
The existence of so many Horcruxes meant that Voldemort's return was an absolute certainty; it was merely a matter of time.
When that time came, if Voldemort discovered that Lucius had been so audacious as to discard his Horcrux, leading to the destruction of a piece of his soul...
To be allowed to die quickly would be a merciful release for Lucius at that point.
"Severus, you must help me!"
Snape walked over to Lucius and placed both hands on the arms of the chair, looking down coldly at the ashen-faced man.
His voice was like a devil's whisper:
"I intend to establish an organization—one that is hidden within the Death Eaters, yet not entirely contained by them..."
Lucius took a deep breath, suppressing his internal panic slightly. "I'm in."
He looked up at Snape. "May I know what your objective is?"
"I plan to resurrect the Dark Lord."
The color that had just begun to return to Lucius's face vanished, leaving him deathly pale once more.
"My own abilities are insufficient to achieve my true goal, so I must borrow the Dark Lord's power."
He glanced at Lucius, who was trembling like a frightened chick. "As long as you are willing to help me, I will not report you to the Dark Lord."
"And after that, we can use Dumbledore's power..."
What Snape did not say aloud was that they could also use the power of Grindelwald.
"After that, you and I will be free. We will never have to live in the Dark Lord's shadow again."
Lucius nodded dejectedly; he had no choice.
"What is the name of our organization?"
"The Death Eaters shall be the shell used to disguise it," Snape mused for a moment before providing a name—"Shell."
He extended his hand toward Lucius. "We need some sufficiently robust safeguards."
When Snape departed from Malfoy Manor, three faint chain-like marks were visible on the back of his hand.
Those were the traces left by the Unbreakable Vow.
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