Hermione hadn't slept all night.
Candlelight flickered in the Common Room, pinning her motionless shadow to the stone wall.
The air smelled of old parchment, dried ink, and her own exhaustion after a sleepless night.
More than a dozen sheets of parchment lay spread before her, filled with analysis in her rigidly neat handwriting.
The logic behind Moody's abnormal behavior.
His pathological reverence for chaos.
His covert methods of dividing the team.
And the enormous holes in the motives of the targets he had offered up-Snape and Karkaroff.
Every suspicious point was like a black nail she had hammered firmly into the paper with logic.
When morning light pierced the stained glass, she stopped writing.
She inhaled, drawing the cold morning air into her lungs.
This matter was too big.
It was beyond the scope of students, beyond the limits of their Detective Club.
She had to seek help from an adult. An adult who could suppress all chaos with absolute reason.
Only one name surfaced in her mind.
Professor Douglas Holmes.
To her, this professor was logic itself.
He was the only person who could unravel this deadlock.
The door to the Defense Against Dark Magic Office was shut tight.
Hermione raised her hand, her knuckles clenched white.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three knocks echoed through the empty corridor.
"Come in."
Professor Douglas's clear, steady voice came from inside.
Hermione pushed open the door. The office was as tidy as ever, sunlight pouring through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows. The air held only the scent of books, unlike Moody's office, which always carried a tense smell of metal mixed with sweat.
Douglas sat behind his desk, twirling a quill. When he saw her, a perfunctory smile appeared on his face.
"Miss Granger. Judging by your expression, you hardly look relaxed after