Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

In the shadows of the castle, Karkaroff's face transformed into a mask of pure shock. His mouth gaped open and he was speechless for a moment.

Bicorn horn powder, Boomslang skin... Harry blinked, easily recognizing these as potion ingredients. Moreover, the names seemed familiar, as if he'd heard them somewhere before. So, he lowered his head slightly and looked at Hermione in confusion.

"Polyjuice Potion—"

Hermione's face, illuminated dimly by the castle's distant lights, mirrored Harry's shock. Her eyes widened with recognition, and seeing Harry's confused expression, she mouthed the words without sound.

They exchanged wordless glances, both noting the surprise in each other's eyes. This was a possibility they hadn't considered before – Polyjuice Potion. It was certainly a clever way to conceal one's identity, and not particularly difficult to execute. All they would need was to secretly collect a hair from a Hogwarts upper-year student during mealtime in the Great Hall, and then they could legitimately approach the Goblet of Fire to submit Hermione's name!

The question that now burned in their minds were two: 'Was Karkaroff truly the mastermind behind this scheme? And if so, what possible motivation could he have for targeting Hermione so specifically?'

Both of them instinctively held their breath, their bodies pressing closer to the ground as they strained to hear every word of the confrontation unfolding before them.

"I understand now." Karkaroff's voice had transformed from shocked silence to barely contained fury. He snapped his mouth shut with an audible click, his eyes blazing with anger as he looked at Snape with an accusatory glare.

His next words came out in a rush, each one dripping with paranoid suspicion.

"You're here to test me, aren't you, Severus?" The words emerged as a harsh whisper, tinged with desperation. "Who put you up to this – Dumbledore or Watson? You've already shared your suspicions with them, haven't you? They're investigating this matter—"

He caught himself here, his thoughts visibly redirecting. "No, no, that's not important. Severus, have you completely pledged yourself to their service now?"

The darkness seemed to deepen around Snape's tall, imposing figure as he remained unmoved by Karkaroff's outburst.

"Answer my question first!"

His obsidian eyes bore into Karkaroff's with unwavering intensity, his wand gripped so tightly that his knuckles showed white against the dim light.

"This has nothing to do with me, Severus!" Karkaroff's voice trembled with stress. "Durmstrang is also a victim in this matter!" His face contorted with desperation as he added, his each word carefully uttered through clenched teeth, "Do you need me to swear by the Dark Lord's name?"

The mere mention of that title sent an invisible ripple through the night air.

Snape's eyebrow twitched violently, though his rigid posture noticeably relaxed. The weight of such an oath wasn't lost on him - he knew all too well the gravity that such words carried for someone like Igor Karkaroff.

"How amusing—" In an instant, Snape's hostile, cold smile melted away into an expression of lazy contempt as he smoothly tucked his wand back into the folds of his black robes and sneered at Karkaroff. "You dare mention the Dark Lord? Let me be frank, Igor - given your past actions, if the Dark Lord returns, death would be the least of your concerns."

Clearly finished with the conversation, Snape turned on his back, his black robes billowing behind him as he made to return to the warmth of the castle.

However, Karkaroff, his face now ashen at Snape's casual reminder of his probable fate, lunged forward with unexpected speed. His fingers clutched desperately at Snape's robes as he snarled, his voice dense with both fear and anger.

"Go back and tell those despicable men, Watson and Dumbledore, make it perfectly clear to them – they aren't the only ones who can harbor suspicions. I'll be conducting my own investigation into their activities!"

"I'll pass that along—" Snape extracted his arm from Karkaroff's grip with fluid grace, his lips curling into a mockery of a smile. "Anything else you'd like to add, Igor? If not, I strongly suggest you return to your ship before long. These grounds are positively crawling with Dumbledore's loyal observers."

Just when Harry and Hermione thought this secret conversation had reached its conclusion, they witnessed an extraordinary transformation in the Durmstrang headmaster.

Like a skilled actor changing masks, Karkaroff's entire demeanor shifted. The righteous indignation and wronged expression vanished, replaced by an almost sickening display of forced camaraderie, as if the heated accusations of moments ago had been nothing but a passing dream.

"Don't be so hasty to leave, my dear old friend!" Karkaroff's voice now dripped with honey, his smile broad and ingratiating as he draped an arm around Snape's shoulders in a gesture of false friendship.

Snape's face twisted with barely concealed disgust, though he didn't immediately shrug off the unwanted contact.

"There's a small matter where you might be of assistance..." Karkaroff's voice dropped to a whisper. "I've heard, Severus, that Bryan Watson was once a proud member of your house, and word has it you've maintained quite an amicable relationship?"

Snape's response was nothing more than a sidelong glance, his silence speaking volumes.

"You see," Karkaroff pressed on, his voice becoming even more ingratiating, "perhaps you could, as a favor to an old friend, while clearing my name with Watson regarding that foolish girl's name in the Goblet, make some discrete inquiries about the nature of the first task? It would only be right, wouldn't it? After all, you suspected me, doubted an old friend of many years—it wounded me deeply, it broke my heart. Surely you owe me some small compensation, you need to make some amends—"

Despicable!

Shameless!

The sheer audacity of his request made Harry and Hermione's blood boil. They almost jumped up in anger. This was the same man who, few minutes ago, had been hurling threats about investigating Professor Watson, and now he had the gall to seek inside information through such calculating means!

Hermione's cheeks flushed red with anger. Earlier during the day, when Sirius told them that Igor Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, they were more surprised than anything else, but now, witnessing this scene firsthand, she truly understood just how low this man's character was.

Harry and Hermione were thinking along similar lines, but Harry gave Hermione a meaningful look. The irony wasn't lost on either of them - if Durmstrang's own headmaster was willing to stoop to cheating to aid his champion, perhaps accepting Hagrid's offered assistance wasn't such a big moral compromise after all.

They strained forward, eager to hear Snape's response to this brazen request, but fate had other plans.

A thunderous roar from the marble staircase in the entrance hall shattered the tension like glass, causing both of them to jump in their skins.

"CAUGHT IN THE ACT, EH?"

The familiar voice bellowed across the grounds, followed by the distinctive thump-clunk of wooden leg against stone as its owner descended the stairs.

The scene that unfolded before them was almost theatrical in its timing - even Hermione, despite her usual seriousness, couldn't help but appreciate the dramatic irony, while Harry's lips curled into a satisfied smirk of schadenfreude.

Despite Moody's distinctive limp, there was nothing diminished about his intimidating presence. If anything, the irregular rhythm of his steps added to the rising tension, like the drumbeat before an execution.

His magical eye whirling frantically in its socket fixed itself upon Snape and Karkaroff with unsettling intensity. The scar that marked his face seemed to come alive in the shadows, writhing like a restless centipede across his facial features.

'You should have been more cautious—' Harry thought with a mixture of satisfaction and slight malice as he observed the two men's reactions.

Moody's appearance was hardly surprising to those who knew his habits. Even in retirement, the legendary Auror maintained his famous constant vigilance, routinely patrolling the castle grounds after nightfall. He was also known to often assist Hagrid in monitoring the Forbidden Forest.

The effect of Moody's arrival on Karkaroff was visible. His body language transformed in an instant, his previous façade of friendly confidence crumbling like a sandcastle before the tide.

Karkaroff's initial impulse to flee wasn't just a momentary reaction - it was deep-seated, perhaps a remnant of old guilt. He had already taken a backward step, his body half-turned toward escape, and if not for Snape's quick reaction in grabbing his arm, he might have already vanished into the darkness.

Snape, while maintaining better composure than his companion, couldn't entirely hide his discomfort. The usual sallow complexion of his face took on an even more ashen hue as he faced Moody, though his voice remained steady as he attempted to defuse the situation.

"What do you mean, Moody? We were merely having a conversation—"

Something peculiar occurred then - Moody's step faltered unexpectedly, giving a brief break in his intimidating approach. But he recovered with remarkable speed, his scarred face splitting into a fierce grin that held no warmth as he advanced on the pair.

"Just talking, you say? LIES, Snape!" Moody mercilessly exposed this obvious excuse. "Two former Death Eaters who narrowly escaped Azkaban's embrace, skulking about in the darkness and bitter cold, avoiding the populated courtyards—all for a friendly chat about old times? What's really on the agenda tonight, gentlemen? Sharing tips about dodging justice... or perhaps hatching new schemes!"

Despite being outnumbered, Moody's presence seemed to fill the space around them, as if he had somehow managed to surround both men through sheer force of personality. The intimidation radiating from him was almost palpable.

"TELL ME!" The roar that erupted from Moody's throat echoed across the grounds. "Confess everything now, or I'll have you both in Dumbledore's office before you can draw your next breath!"

"You're mad—" Karkaroff's voice came out in desperate pants as he stumbled backward, his composure completely shattered. "What we discuss is our business, Moody, it has nothing to do with you. The Ministry has cleared my name—you have no right to question me—"

"Oh, is that so!" Moody's laughter was cold enough to freeze the marrow in one's bones. "Perhaps you think betraying your former 'associates' has washed your hands clean, but I remember the filth you've wallowed in, Karkaroff.

Shall we review some of your greatest hits? Show me if you've learned any new tricks. For instance, your method of slipping Hermione Granger's name into the Goblet of Fire was quite ingenious. I must admit—your magical abilities have improved considerably since our last encounter fifteen years ago if you managed to fool an artifact as ancient and powerful as the Goblet!"

"You're completely deranged!"

These were the last words Karkaroff managed to force out. His eyes, wide with undisguised terror, remained fixed on Moody as he stumbled backward, his feet tangling in his expensive furs before he finally turned and fled headlong into the encompassing darkness of the grounds!

What happened next left Harry and Hermione more puzzled than anything that had come before. Professor Moody, contrary to his reputation for relentless pursuit, made no move to chase after the fleeing Karkaroff. He simply stood there, allowing Karkaroff to escape into the night.

"COWARD!"

The word was spat out with pure contempt, echoing across the grounds before Moody turned his attention to Snape, whose face had taken on an interesting bluish tinge in the dim light.

"You seem to possess more spine than your friend, Snape. Perhaps you'd care to share something of interest!"

"I have nothing to say to you—" Snape's words came out in rapid bursts, his breathing clearly affected by Moody's oppressive presence. His thin lips pressed together so tightly they almost disappeared. "If you have questions about me, take them to Dumbledore!"

With those words, Snape wrapped his black cloak tightly around himself, the movement similar that of a bat folding its wings before flight. He strode past Moody with as much dignity as he could muster, his footsteps echoing in the entrance hall before fading into silence.

The grounds fell into an eerie quiet, broken only by the whistle of the bitter wind.

Harry's eyes remained fixed on Professor Moody, who stood approximately fifteen meters away, watching Snape's retreat with his magical eye. While Harry couldn't help but admire how effectively Moody had scattered both Karkaroff and Snape, something about the situation nagged at his mind.

'Why had he let them off so easily? Shouldn't he have pressed harder for answers?'

As Harry pondered this inconsistency, he noticed that Hermione too seemed troubled by the unusual turn of events. Given Moody's earlier display of intimidation, his sudden passivity felt out of character. But before either of them could fully process these thoughts, Professor Moody's next words froze them both in place, their hearts seeming to stop mid-beat.

"My word, it's getting rather frigid out here, and that muddy ground can't be particularly comfortable. Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, why don't you both stand up so we can have a proper conversation?"

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