Spinner's End lay on the outskirts of Cokeworth, in the shadow of a towering, ancient chimney.
Cokeworth had once been the largest industrial town in all of Leeds County. All the coking coal for northern England was processed here before being shipped out, and the surrounding alleys had been crammed with the cramped houses of workers.
But now, no black smoke rose from the chimney; no reddish-brown sewage flowed from the pipes. The air was still foul, and the river still ran pitch-black...
The massive chimney had been idle for many years, its surface coated with moss...
Aside from the murmur of the black river, everything was deathly silent, with hardly a trace of life to be seen.
Every so often, thin, almost childlike cries from the foxes carried through the air, as if they were mourning the death of a town that had once symbolized the Industrial Revolution.
...
A slender figure in a hooded cloak approached the ancient chimney, looking cautiously around as she walked.
It was a woman.
She no longer looked young, yet her skin was still well maintained, the kind that came from a life of comfort and privilege. Judging by the gold and silver jewelry she wore, she clearly came from a very wealthy family.
A woman like this had no business being in a filthy place like Cokeworth.
The thieves lurking in the alleys would be more than happy to welcome her appearance.
Her movements were very careful; she kept glancing back over her shoulder, as though afraid someone might be following her...
"Is it here?" She stopped and looked up at an old house in front of her.
The house seemed to have been abandoned for decades. Even the door handle was rusting away... She bent her head to take a closer look, then gave a small shake of her head.
"No, I have to go farther in," she muttered to herself.
As she hurried away, her eyes flicked over the name on the doorplate—"Evans."
It was a somewhat familiar surname, but she couldn't quite remember where she had heard it... Still, she was certain there was no Evans family among the Sacred Twenty-Eight Pureblood Houses. Perhaps it had been a classmate from her Hogwarts days, but the years had blurred the memory.
Night had completely fallen. She darted through a narrow alley between two buildings, then turned onto another street that looked almost identical to the last.
Both alleys were deserted. Most of the streetlamps were broken, leaving everything shrouded in darkness.
The witch drew her wand from her pocket and whispered softly:
"Lumos."
Once the light had illuminated the path ahead, she continued on.
Behind her, the mill's tall chimney stabbed up into the sky like a giant raised middle finger.
She walked past one boarded-up, dilapidated window after another, her footsteps echoing against the cobblestones.
She reached the final house. A faint light seeped through the gap in the curtains of a downstairs room.
"This should be it?" she murmured, glancing down at her map.
...
Narcissa Malfoy knocked softly on the door.
Then she stood outside, waiting, breathing a little heavily as she caught the stench of the sewage-filled river on the evening breeze.
She pushed her hood back. Her face was deathly pale, and her long golden hair hung in disarray down her back...
She looked utterly wretched.
To be honest, in nearly forty years of life, Narcissa had never felt as helpless as she did now... Her husband had been sent to Azkaban, her sister had been sent to Azkaban, and her son had been given a terrifying task by the Dark Lord...
In truth, every member of her family was now in grave danger... except for one sister who had married a Mudblood and never contacted her again, and a cousin who was now playing lapdog to Dumbledore.
She had no choice. To save her poor, innocent son... she had come all this way to Spinner's End to seek help.
"He used to be Lucius's most trusted friend..." Narcissa whispered to herself. "I hope he can help Draco..."
Her face was already streaked with tears.
There was movement behind the door, and then it opened a crack. A man peered out at them, his long, jet-black hair hanging like curtains on either side of his face, framing a huge hooked nose and a pair of deep, bottomless black eyes.
"Oh, Narcissa?" The man looked slightly surprised. "How lovely to see you!"
...
He meant it. He really did look pleased.
Severus Snape said calmly, "I truly didn't expect you to find your way here alone... You know what I mean—my place is rather filthy, rather remote, and rather chaotic."
Narcissa Malfoy agreed with him completely, especially after the ill-intentioned Muggles she had run into along the way.
Yet she hadn't dared use magic to teach them a lesson, for fear that the Aurors would notice, drag her off, and throw her into Azkaban to join her sister and husband.
"Severus?" Narcissa asked nervously. "May I speak with you?"
"Of course. I have plenty of time, my friend." Snape gave a brief smile and stepped aside to let her into the house.
"Do you live here alone?" Narcissa entered a small sitting room that felt more like a dim cell. Books lined the walls, most bound in old black or brown leather. A lamp hung from the ceiling, its candles casting a faint, gloomy light.
Following Snape's instruction, Narcissa sat down on a sofa that smelled faintly of mildew.
"Just me," Snape replied calmly with a nod. "I've spent more than thirty years devoted to the Dark Lord's cause."
As he spoke, he sat down as well and flicked his wand. A glass of blood-red wine flew to Narcissa, and another settled beside Snape.
"For the Dark Lord." He raised his glass and drained it in one gulp.
"For the Dark Lord," Narcissa echoed distractedly, lifting her own glass and taking a few sips.
Snape flicked his wand again, refilling her glass.
"Severus—" The witch seemed on the verge of breaking down, her voice full of pleading. "I'm terribly sorry to trouble you, but I can think of no other way. You have to help Draco, save him..."
Severus Snape calmly raised a finger, signaling her to stop.
"First, Draco is already our ally," Snape said gently.
"He's not even of age yet. He's still just a child..." Narcissa couldn't help but protest.
"But that doesn't change the fact that he is our ally." Snape continued, paying no heed to Narcissa's interruption. "Secondly, I know the Dark Lord's plan. I know every detail of it. I know what Draco's mission is."
"You know?" Narcissa froze. "But the Dark Lord clearly... only told Draco about his task..."
"And his most loyal servant!" Snape smiled faintly, a touch of mystery in his expression. He picked up his goblet and drained the blood-red wine in a single gulp.
"I heard... the Dark Lord no longer trusts anyone... especially after the battle at the Department of Mysteries... after Lucius and Bellatrix were thrown into Azkaban..." Narcissa stammered.
"But he still trusts those who are loyal to him." Snape's expression was almost relaxed.
"Though the battle at the Department of Mysteries was a failure, it allowed the Dark Lord to see who his truly loyal servants were, and who the traitors were... Unfortunately, he made a small mistake beforehand."
"That damned Auror?" Narcissa's face changed at once.
"Exactly. Alastor Moody—or rather, Barty Crouch Jr.... We never knew which was his true identity." Snape's face turned serious. "My guess is that Dumbledore must have switched him out, though I don't know when he did it..."
"Then before the battle at the Department of Mysteries, why didn't you..."
"Dumbledore always kept his plans tightly sealed. No one could see through his mind... He was a great wizard." Seeing Narcissa Malfoy's expression twist slightly at that, Snape added, "The Dark Lord thinks so as well."
"As one of Dumbledore's more trusted subordinates, I sensed that something was off at the time, though I didn't know much in detail," Snape went on. "Two days before the battle at the Department of Mysteries, I risked my life to leave Hogwarts and go to Malfoy Manor. You should remember that."
"I do!" Narcissa blinked, then nodded quickly. "I was the one who brought you to the Dark Lord."
"I warned the Dark Lord. I told him that the members of the Order of the Phoenix seemed to be on the move... that they were brewing some sort of plan. I didn't know the specifics, but I could feel that it was dangerous." Snape shook his head regretfully. "Sadly, the Dark Lord did not believe me... Of course, he trusted my loyalty, but he doubted how accurate my information was."
"Because of Barty Crouch Jr.?" Narcissa asked, a hint of anger in her voice.
"Yes. Because before he received my warning, he had already received intelligence from Barty Crouch Jr. Barty Crouch Jr. was embedded even deeper than I was, held a higher position in the Order of the Phoenix than I did, and had a closer relationship with the Dark Lord... So the Dark Lord had absolutely no reason to trust my warning over Crouch Jr.'s intelligence."
"Moreover, Barty Crouch Jr.'s intelligence and plan held far greater allure for the Dark Lord..." Snape continued calmly. "They planned to lure Dumbledore to the Department of Mysteries using Harry Potter. The Dark Lord would occupy Dumbledore's attention, while Mr. Crouch would seize the chance to strike when Dumbledore was distracted... to kill him, or at least seriously injure him."
"But none of us anticipated that Barty Crouch Jr. had already been replaced... The one who was ambushed was the Dark Lord, and the one gravely injured was also the Dark Lord... After that painful lesson, I think the Dark Lord finally understands who his truly loyal servant is."
A faint smile tugged at Snape's lips.
"I have never doubted your loyalty to the Dark Lord, Severus..." Narcissa hurried to say.
"Indeed, I believe you, Narcissa." Snape nodded. "Your sister, on the other hand, was very suspicious of me. It's a pity she now has only the Dementors for company in Azkaban... No, that's not right—there don't seem to be Dementors in Azkaban anymore. Those Auror guards make for far duller company."
...
Narcissa felt they had spent far too long on things that had nothing to do with why she was here.
After a moment's thought, she spoke slowly. "Severus, about Draco... and the task the Dark Lord has given him..."
"But, Narcissa..." Snape shook his head gently. "What sort of help are you hoping for? If you imagine I could persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I'm afraid that's impossible—utterly impossible."
"Severus..." Narcissa whispered, tears spilling down her pale cheeks. "My son... my only son..."
"Draco should be proud," Snape said coolly. "The Dark Lord has bestowed upon him a great honor."
"But he's only sixteen. He has no idea what awaits him... Why, Snape? Why my son? It's too dangerous... This is punishment for Lucius's failure, I know it is!" Narcissa in front of him was already sobbing uncontrollably.
"Perhaps you can take a little comfort, Narcissa." Snape's tone softened slightly, and he answered slowly, "The Dark Lord has always been merciful. He wouldn't send Draco to his death for nothing..."
Seeing Narcissa about to speak, Snape raised a finger to stop her.
"The Dark Lord has a far more detailed plan. Draco is only one part of it... You don't seriously believe the Dark Lord would attempt such a difficult task relying solely on Draco, do you?"
"You mean... you mean..." Narcissa stared at him, stunned.
"Since the Dark Lord chose to share the contents of this plan with me, it certainly wasn't just to chat." Snape smiled calmly. "I also play a crucial role in this scheme. You understand what I mean, Narcissa."
"So you will help Draco?" Narcissa Malfoy asked, her voice trembling.
"Of course. That is the Dark Lord's wish." Snape nodded without hesitation.
"Thank goodness!" Narcissa finally seemed able to breathe again.
Snape flicked his wand once more, and two fresh goblets of blood-red wine flew to them.
"For the Dark Lord," he said, raising his glass and draining it in one go.
"For the Dark Lord!" Narcissa cried, raising her own glass with matching fervor.