Don’t Follow Their Example

"Is Potter really that sharp?" Karkaroff anxiously kicked at a chunk of snow on the ground. "I noticed that little girlfriend of his was giving me strange looks. And today, I was even attacked by their pets!"

Snape sneered. "Karkaroff, you've always been a fool."

"But your foolishness never ceases to amaze me—it keeps setting new lows. What were you thinking, giving Potter a score of four? Even Madame Maxime, as nitpicky as she is, knew to give him a nine."

"Did you really think Krum could be a match for Potter?"

"Why not?" Karkaroff stubbornly countered.

Snape reached out and jabbed him in the chest. "And now you regret it? Trying to play the 'good headmaster' like Dumbledore?"

Karkaroff's expression soured. "I have to find a way out for myself. You're no different, Severus—you're just Dumbledore's lapdog now."

"It's a transaction," Snape said coldly. "Now tell me—what has you, the esteemed Headmaster of Durmstrang, so frightened? What's happening with the Mark?"

"You haven't felt it?" Karkaroff looked shocked.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "So, not only is your brain useless, but now your eyesight is failing, too?"

He pulled back his sleeve, revealing an empty left arm.

"I heard Potter did this?" Karkaroff muttered in disbelief. He reached out to touch it, but his fingers passed through nothing. No Disillusionment Charm, no invisibility—it was truly gone.

Snape nodded, his sneer deepening. "So, you're not completely ignorant of everything."

"I despise Potter. He annoys me, and I annoy him," Snape said with icy calm.

"Last year, I finally had enough. I wanted to kill him. But I'll admit, under Dumbledore's guidance, Potter has picked up some skills."

Karkaroff swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "You… you didn't go all out?"

"I wanted him dead," Snape corrected. "Karkaroff, have you lost your hearing as well? I just told you that."

Karkaroff's nerves frayed. "But you're so powerful—how could you fail?!"

Fourteen years ago, Snape had been one of the strongest Death Eaters. Now, after all these years, his growth was unimaginable.

"Now isn't the time to discuss Potter," Snape said impatiently. "No matter what he's capable of, you wouldn't understand even if I explained."

"Right now—immediately—tell me what's happening with the Mark. And what exactly are you all scheming?"

He paused, then added, "I am far more capable than the lot of you combined, and I understand Potter better than anyone. No one wants him dead more than I do."

—

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione gritted her teeth and clutched Harry's arm tightly.

How could he?!

She had believed Snape was a good man. But now… now he was speaking like this?

Did he think that just because neither Harry nor Dumbledore was around, he didn't need to hide his true face?

Harry gently squeezed her hand in reassurance.

Karkaroff furrowed his brows, his voice heavy with fear. "It's been growing more active—ever since a month or two before the Quidditch World Cup. It sent us a signal, telling us to gather."

"But it wasn't from the Dark Lord himself—it came from someone else, someone he had entrusted with authority."

Snape's expression turned grim. "What were they planning at the World Cup?"

"I don't know. I wasn't in Britain at the time, and I didn't dare go."

Karkaroff shuddered violently. "But lately… it's been growing stronger, waking up. You understand what that means, don't you? The Dark Lord… he's coming back."

"And the Triwizard Tournament?" Snape pressed, his wand now at Karkaroff's waist.

Karkaroff flinched. "Severus, what are you implying?"

"You don't know what they're planning with the Goblet of Fire?"

Karkaroff hesitated. "The night I arrived at Hogwarts, when I returned to the ship, there was a letter waiting on my bed. I didn't recognize the handwriting."

"But it bore the Dark Mark. The writer told me to put Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire."

—

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry's eyes narrowed.

So, the second person who put his name into the Goblet had now revealed himself—Karkaroff, a Death Eater.

It was exactly as he had suspected—these people were plotting against him.

"You obeyed?" Snape pressed.

Karkaroff's voice turned shrill. "How could I not? They know my secrets! They're very likely one of us—perhaps even one of those the Dark Lord personally granted authority to."

"Severus…"

Snape's voice remained eerily calm. "If you're so scared, then run. I won't tell the Dark Lord about this."

Karkaroff paced frantically, deep in thought.

"But if you want to survive," Snape continued, cold and steady, "I have a kind suggestion for you."

Karkaroff stopped and looked at him desperately. "Severus, my friend—I knew you would help me!"

Snape's lips curled cruelly. "Now is the Dark Lord's weakest moment."

"He will rise again, undoubtedly, and reclaim his place of power. But, Igor… now is now, and the future is the future."

"You're suggesting I go to him?" Karkaroff's face paled.

"If the Dark Lord favors you, your life will be safe," Snape said dismissively. "Look at Bellatrix—no one likes her, yet she remains one of his most beloved followers."

Karkaroff's face twisted in thought.

"Besides," Snape continued, his voice devoid of warmth, "thanks to Potter, I've lost my chance to contact our master. That boy severed my arm with that sword, and I need the Dark Lord's blessing to restore it."

—

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione stiffened.

Wait… what?

Snape had just said… what?

Harry had cut off his arm with the Basilisk bone sword?

But she clearly remembered—Harry had used the Sword of Gryffindor.

She turned to Harry.

Even in the dim light, she could see something in his expression. Not surprise, not confusion—something closer to satisfaction, a quiet thrill, like a hunter watching its prey walk into a trap.

She thought she understood.

"I see," Karkaroff murmured, exhaling heavily. "Severus, let me think it over."

Snape smirked but said nothing, watching Karkaroff's shadow stretch under the glowing fairy roses as he walked away.

Then, he turned sharply toward Harry and Hermione's hiding spot.

"Miss Granger?" His voice was as smooth as silk. "And perhaps Mr. Potter as well?"

"Do you always use this cloak for your dates?"

—

Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, expression blank. "Sorry, we just happened to stumble upon your date with Karkaroff and got curious."

Hermione's face burned red.

"Did you enjoy the conversation?" Snape asked coldly.

Harry shook his head. "I was hoping to hear more about him. Among the Death Eaters, who exactly did the Dark Lord entrust with authority?"

Snape thought for a moment. "There were three I knew of."

"Bellatrix Lestrange—a fanatical, utterly devoted lunatic. She's currently in Azkaban, and there's been no word of her escape."

"Corban Yaxley—a quiet but immensely powerful man, even stronger than I was back then. He became one of the Dark Lord's most trusted enforcers. He's still free."

"I suspect it's him. He's smart, and he has the capability."

Harry nodded. "And the third?"

"He's dead," Snape said flatly. "Barty Crouch Jr. He was… exceptional. Even among the most talented young Death Eaters, he was unique. The Dark Lord permitted him to address him as 'father.'"

Again… Barty Crouch Jr.

Hermione's brows knitted together.

"You suspect him?" Snape's eyes widened slightly.

Harry nodded. "The leader at the World Cup commanded the Crouch family's house-elf. You know what that means."

"Does Yaxley have any ties to the Crouch family?"

Snape frowned. "Not at all. Barty Crouch was single-minded—he despised people like Yaxley."

"Then, Professor," Harry said gently, "I'm afraid we have a favor to ask of you."

Snape sneered at him, then scoffed at the stag brooch on Harry's chest.

"Who picked this ridiculous trinket? Black?"

Harry glanced down. "Don't like it, Professor? I thought you'd appreciate the emeralds."

"The gemstones are fine," Snape said icily. "But a stag? A doe would suit you better."

"Thanks, but I like it as is."

Snape let out a harsh laugh. "Go finish your date. And stay out of my sight—before I—"

"For talking back to a professor, Potter, ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry and Hermione nodded—barely even pretending to be obedient.

Snape turned toward the castle.

Then, just as Harry and Hermione clasped hands again and headed for the Black Lake, he called out:

"Potter—don't follow the example of those two idiots from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."

Harry answered seriously, "Of course not, Professor."

Snape quickened his pace and disappeared.

Hermione punched Harry's shoulder.

Without his armor, it felt quite satisfying.

Tonight felt unusually eventful.

They walked carefully, as if afraid of running into more people. Only when they reached the lakeshore did they finally stop. The cold wind carried swirls of snow, and Hermione shivered.

Harry flicked his wand, casting a warming charm around her.

"I thought for a moment Snape really wanted to hurt you," Hermione murmured, exhaling a puff of white mist. "But now… it seems like he's trying to uncover more information."

Harry nodded.

"Karkaroff is more of a coward than I expected. Will he take Snape's suggestion?" Hermione asked, a little worried.

"Trust Snape," Harry said, leading her toward the lake.

Hermione opened her mouth to say more—

But Harry pulled her gently into his arms.

"Do we really have to keep talking about this tonight?"

Hermione froze. Her cheeks burned hotter than ever, and her body softened in his embrace.

She leaned into him, slowly closing her eyes.

Their foreheads touched.

The moonlight shimmered over the rippling surface of the Black Lake, reflecting their intertwined shadows like mistletoe upon the water.

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Powerstones?

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