Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0536 Suspicions

Unlike Harry's deep and almost familial bond with Sirius, Hermione's relationship with Sirius had initially been more distant and cautious. However, the weeks they had spent together at the Burrow during the summer, coupled with their shared connection through Harry, had gradually transformed Sirius into a trusted friend.

Moreover, as a Muggle-born witch, Hermione had come to view Sirius as something of a worldly mentor figure in the often-bewildering Wizarding world, despite—or perhaps because of—his own complicated relationship with it.

Hermione began to open up about the increasing pressure that had been crushing down on her like an invisible weight. Her voice, barely above a whisper, trembled as she described the suspicious glances and whispered conversations that seemed to follow her through the castle corridors. Her began to quiver beneath the silvery fabric of the Invisibility Cloak, revealing the emotional toll of recent events.

Beside her, Harry listened in tense silence to his friend's troubles, his hands unconsciously clenching into tight fists beneath the cloak. A familiar surge of protective anger blazed through his chest, hot and fierce.

The situation was painfully familiar—he knew all too well the bitter taste of being ostracized and doubted, having endured similar treatment during his second year when half the school had suspected him of being the Heir of Slytherin.

"I understand—" Sirius's voice was gentle, carrying the weight of personal experience. His grey eyes, which had seen both the depths of despair and the heights of redemption, held a deep empathy.

"More than most, I truly understand what it means to be misunderstood, Hermione. That feeling of isolation, of being judged and condemned without justice—it's absolutely unbearable. But remember this: if you stay true to yourself and persevere, hope will eventually break through even the darkest clouds. You mustn't let those who persecute you achieve their goal—their power lies in breaking your spirit."

Hermione raised a trembling hand to wipe away the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes, and gazed at Sirius with a mixture of surprise and realization. Then she realized her own troubles suddenly seemed to shrink in perspective as she considered the magnitude of what Sirius had endured.

He had spent twelve years in Azkaban, wrongly imprisoned for betraying his best friends, surrounded by soul-sucking Dementors that forced him to relive his worst memories day after day. Even after his escape, he had lived as a fugitive, surviving on rats and sleeping in caves, all while pursuing the true traitor who had destroyed his life.

Yet here he sat, offering comfort and wisdom born from his trials, living proof that acceptance and vindication were possible even in the darkest circumstances.

"Thank you, Sirius—" Hermione's voice was dense with gratitude as she pressed her lips together, fighting to maintain her composure.

"Do you have any leads, Sirius?" Harry asked eagerly, leaning forward with such enthusiasm that the cloak shifted, momentarily revealing a glimpse of his trainers.

"I'm not entirely certain—" Sirius released a weary sigh. "I have some theories forming, but since both Bryan and Dumbledore have chosen to maintain their silence on certain matters—"

His voice trailed off suggestively, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like an unfinished spell.

Sirius's cryptic explanation hung in the air like an unsolved riddle; neither Harry nor Hermione could quite decipher the hidden meaning behind his words.

Catching himself, and apparently deciding he shouldn't burden the young ones with too much anxiety, Sirius straightened in his chair and adopted a more businesslike demeanor.

"Hermione," he said solemnly, his voice dropping even lower, "I need you to recount everything that happened after your selection as champion. Every detail, no matter how insignificant it might seem, could help me form a more accurate assessment of the situation."

Hermione had previously shared the details of that argument in the antechamber behind the Great Hall with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Now, revisiting those moments made her heart race as though she were experiencing it all again. Though the raw desperation of that night had somewhat faded, her pulse still quickened noticeably as she began her explanation.

"--After what seemed like an endless debate, Barty Crouch finally confirmed my position as champion," she whispered, constantly scanning the crowded pub for any sign they'd been noticed. "He told the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons headmasters that if they considered it unfair, Hogwarts' overall score would be calculated as an average of mine and Cedric Diggory's performances. That essentially ended the immediate argument—"

The busy atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks forced Hermione to frequently pause her narrative. The constant flow of patrons, the clinking of glasses, and the rowdy laughter of the Durmstrang students made it necessary to time her words carefully.

What might have been a straightforward retelling stretched into a fifteen-minute exercise in patience and vigilance as she carefully reconstructed the events of that evening in the Great Hall.

"Well?" Harry's voice vibrated with barely contained anticipation. "Have you managed to piece anything together, Sirius?"

"Obviously—" Sirius's face took on the intense focus of deep contemplation. While thinking, his grey eyes occasionally flashed with sharp, rational brilliance. It seemed that his career as an Auror had made him more perceptive.

After two minutes of concentrated silence, during which Harry and Hermione barely dared to breathe, Sirius spoke with grave certainty: "The person who submitted your name to the Goblet of Fire, Hermione, was present in that room that night."

Hermione's hands instantly clenched into tight fists, her knuckles whitening beneath the cloak. Beside her, Harry nearly launched himself off his stool in a surge of protective anger. Only Hermione's quick reflexes, grabbing his arm with pressure, prevented their cover from being blown completely.

"How did you arrive at that conclusion, Sirius?" Hermione's voice was breathless with tension, her body rigid with anticipation.

"Does it really require such intensive deduction?" Sirius's smile carried a hint of grimness. "Bryan already provided us with the key to this puzzle, didn't he? Under normal circumstances, the Goblet of Fire would select only one champion per school—that's been its purpose for centuries.

Yet both you and Amos's son were chosen to represent Hogwarts. This wasn't some magical mishap or coincidence—it could only have happened through deliberate interference with the Goblet's ancient magic, and anyone capable of such powerful manipulation was undoubtedly present in that room that night—"

Hermione's mind raced through a mental catalog of everyone who had been present: the headmasters of the three schools, Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, Igor Karkaroff, Professor Watson, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Moody, Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman from the Ministry, and of course, the four champions themselves—Cedric looking confused, Fleur indignant, Krum stoic, and herself, overwhelmed by it all.

"I thought Professor Watson made that statement just to help me—" Hermione's voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Clear your name?" Sirius finished her thought with a knowing smile. "You'll find, young ones, that adults rarely speak with such simple intentions, especially in situations as unsimple as that one. Every word uttered in that room carried multiple layers of meaning.

Of course, Bryan was partially attempting to defend your reputation, but I strongly suspect he was also sending a clear message to the hidden perpetrator—essentially announcing that he had identified their method and warning them against any further rash actions—"

"But who could possibly be behind this?" Hermione's question carried an urgent edge of desperation.

Harry remained conspicuously silent, though Sirius's knowing glance toward his position under the cloak showed he understood exactly where his godson's suspicions lay.

"I know precisely who you suspect, Harry, but I must disappoint you—I don't believe Snape is responsible for this particular plot."

Anticipating Harry's inevitable protest, Sirius quickly continued, his voice carrying a mix of old hatred and current rationality, "Believe me, we all share your distaste for Snivellus, Harry, but this situation requires objective analysis.

I know him—perhaps better than I'd like to—and this isn't his style at all. If he wanted to cause trouble for Hermione, he'd be more likely to tamper with potion ingredients during class and then publicly berate her for alleged carelessness or incompetence or something."

Harry lapsed into a sulky silence, though the slight rustling of the Invisibility Cloak said he was still fidgeting with suppressed arguments.

"That night—" After effectively silencing Harry's suspicions, Sirius fell into another contemplative pause, and his words began emerging slowly and deliberately. "Moody made a rather sharp observation—that whoever placed your name in the Goblet either harbored murderous intentions toward you or aimed to create chaos for Hogwarts."

Sirius's voice took on a thoughtful tone as he continued, "Hermione, did you happen to notice who caught Moody's attention—specifically, who he was watching—when he made that statement?"

"The Durmstrang headmaster, Professor Karkaroff—" Hermione's response came quickly, her sharp memory instantly reconstructing the scene. Then her brow furrowed in confusion, her expression beneath the cloak shifting from realization to bewilderment. "Are you suggesting that the headmaster of Durmstrang Institute deliberately entered my name into the Goblet of Fire? But what possible motivation could he have?!"

"Ah—" Sirius took a slow sip of his drink, his casual shrug contradicting the seriousness of his words. "I'm not alone in this suspicion—Moody clearly shares similar thoughts. Don't underestimate Alastor Moody's instincts. Though he's officially retired now, he was absolutely legendary in the Auror department.

His intuition for detecting dark magic and those who use it is practically supernatural. The mere mention of his name used to send hardened criminals into panic—far more effective than our current Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour, could ever hope to be."

"But that night, Karkaroff was absolutely adamant in trying to invalidate my position as champion. He didn't seem—" Hermione's voice trailed off as she struggled to reconcile this theory with her memories. If the Durmstrang headmaster truly was the culprit, his performance that night would have required extraordinary acting abilities.

And why would he want to kill her? Hermione knew with certainty that she'd never had any prior interaction with him. Even if his goal was to embarrass Hogwarts, why would he specifically choose her from among all the potential targets?

"Seem?" Sirius's mouth twisted into a contemptuous sneer. "If I were orchestrating such a plot, I would also do everything in my power to appear completely uninvolved. Hermione, those who harbor truly dark intentions are far more cunning than you might imagine, particularly someone of Igor Karkaroff's... background."

"You know him personally?" Even Harry caught the loaded implications in Sirius's tone, and his voice rose with surprise.

"Oh, Harry—" Sirius's contempt deepened visibly, his facial features darkening. "It would be nearly impossible not to know of him. Igor Karkaroff's notoriety extends far beyond his current position as a headmaster—I'm referring specifically to his time in Azkaban—"

Sirius cast a meaningful glance toward the rowdy group of Durmstrang students still crowding the bar, his expression growing even more somber. "I'll be direct with you both: Igor Karkaroff was once in Voldemort's inner circle. He was a Death Eater—and don't harbor any doubts about this fact. There's concrete evidence, and he freely admitted it himself during his trial before the Wizengamot."

His voice dropped even lower as he continued, "The only reason he avoided a fate similar to mine in Azkaban was his willingness to strike a deal. He convinced the Ministry of his supposed reformation, and to secure his freedom, he provided names—many names—of his former 'colleagues.' His testimony led directly to numerous arrests and subsequent imprisonments in Azkaban—"

Sensing the waves of shock emanating from the two invisible teenagers beside him, Sirius took a long drink from his glass and released a cold, humorless laugh. "Oh, and I nearly forgot one crucial detail... it was Moody himself who originally captured Karkaroff and brought him in for questioning!"

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