"I understand."
Fear and excitement left her unusually alert despite her sleepless night.
"Professor Moody hates all Dark Wizards!"
"In his eyes, there's no difference at all between a traitor like Karkaroff, who bought his freedom by betraying his accomplices, and a former Death Eater like Snape, who only escaped conviction because Dumbledore vouched for him!"
"They're both criminals who escaped justice!"
"So he isn't framing anyone!"
"He's enforcing the law in his own way!"
"He firmly believes you're guilty, so he engineered the theft, stirred up chaos, and divided us... everything he's done has been to drag those he considers guilty back to stand trial!"
The deduction sent a chill down her spine.
But all the pieces fit.
Every abnormal action of a genuine Moody now had a single explanation.
This was that one path to survival that led straight to hell.
Someone had to warn the victim being kept in the dark.
Someone had to pry more information out of him and stop Moody's vigilante justice.
She closed the newspaper.
Stood up.
Walked toward the doors.
The morning breeze lifted her long hair.
She headed for the dungeons, for the darkest corner of Hogwarts.
The door to Snape's office stood at the end of the corridor like a silent gravestone.
Hermione stood before it and took a deep breath of the dungeon air.
Cold, damp, and mingled with the bitter scent of herbs.
She raised her hand.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three knocks, crisp and firm.
Inside, dead silence.
A few seconds later, a hoarse, venomous, profoundly impatient voice came from within.
"Get out!"
Hermione did not back down.
She leaned toward the crack in the door and spoke with unprecedented clarity.
"Professor, I'm not here to question you."
"I'm here to warn you."
"You and Headmaster Karkaroff have