AN: I'm sorry at not replying to a lot of excellent and helpful reviews on the last chapter, Fanfiction is having some sort of issues. Thank you for your comments, I appreciate them immensely. And I wanted to say that I was with you, in some ways I was sort of expecting it to work out that Snape wouldn't have punished them. But in the end, he is Snape, and it seemed disingenuous that he wouldn't do what he had said he would.
Note on this chapter: The chapter grew so long that I had to split it, so we are one chapter from the end. I will write it soon, it's halfway done now anyway. Thanks for everyone! I am kicking around the idea of a sequel with solving a murder in the following year, what do you guys think? Too many murders for Hogwarts?
Snape sat, waiting for the hoopla of the final event of the Tri-Wizard tournament to commence. He thought about Potter, and how the scans that Poppy had run had showed years of abuse. He shook his head at the thought – and how everyone had missed it. He was glad that Dumbledore was in seclusion and hadn't been told yet; the news would certainly crush the old man. But he had already quietly started the procedure to remove Harry from their home, so he knew that Dumbledore would have to find out sooner or later.
They had decided on Dumbledore's miraculous recovery happening after the last event just in case there was something more afoot. Snape knew that Safer had been the villain all along, but something kept bothering him about it. It was the fact that he changed tact, Snape decided. Someone had convinced him, and that didn't sit well with Snape. Someone knew that Harry had been framed and didn't want that to happen? But surely it was someone wanting Harry to win that would make him change his mind, but who would want Harry to win the tournament but still be completely fine with Tolga murdering innocent people?
"Hello, professor," he heard Miss Granger's voice politely greet him. "May we sit with you?"
"I suppose," he grumbled, but was secretly a bit relieved. He had debated with himself about applying the promised punishment to the three teens or not, and he did not like to admit that part of his reluctance was that it would cause them to hate him more. But in the last few days there had been no glares; not even reproachful glances. And now what was this? Overtures of friendship? From Gryffindors?
"Harry was very nervous about this event," Hermione continued, settling herself beside the hated Potions Master. "Ron and I couldn't see as well back there, and had hoped you would let us sit with you so we could see better."
"Hmph," Snape answered, feeling used for his better seating. But, he found himself objecting to the presence of these Gryffindors far less than usual. Was he actually entering into a state of something mutual between them? At least the mutual lack of hate?
"It is because of you, professor, that he's able to compete," Hermione told him firmly. "We all know that. Thank you again."
"You're lucky to be able to sit down and watch," Snape drawled, which actually caused the wretches to laugh in response. Had the wretches no sense of fear after he had soundly punished them?
"You don't have that good of an arm, professor," the Weasley brat laughed. "It has been a few days now. But if we had been the thieves for the more recent stealing . . ."
"You find I keep my word," Snape sniffed. "You would have received the same consequence."
Ron shrugged. "Bugger for the kid that did it then. Maybe we should have lied and said we did it to save some poor future bloke the same fate."
In that moment, Snape suddenly felt like the pieces clicked together in his brain. It wasn't a kid, he realized. It had been an adult. An adult at Hogwarts that was under polyjuice. That was how Harry's name got in the cup, and that was who convinced Tolga to not frame Harry for the murders. Someone had wanted Harry to enter the contest and win it – and not someone good if they had no problem with Tolga's murderous ways. But why?
"How do we know when they win?" Ron asked, gazing at the maze.
"The winner touches the goblet of fire at the end of the maze," Snape told them woodenly. "It will transport them back here."
And then suddenly, an alarm went off in his head. This entire thing had been a setup, and designed to get Harry to touch a portkey that went somewhere other than the beginning of the maze for his adoring fans. They were planning on kidnapping the boy.
Snape, using instincts learned as a spy for Voldemort, scanned the group of professors to see if someone was missing. As he realized Moody was the one missing, a series of pictures flipped through his memory of the past year. The near constant drinking from a flask (Polyjuice! Snape realized), turning Malfoy into a ferret, and the odd reports he got back about unforgiveable curses from his students. He had even been the one to volunteer to put the cup in the middle of the maze! It would be so easy for him to change where the port-key was going to go. How could he have been so stupid? Some deatheater had been masquerading as Mad-Eye, probably this entire year. And that subsequently meant that Harry was in grievous danger.
"What is it, sir?" Hermione asked suddenly, looking carefully at Snape and noticing the fire ignite in his eyes.
"Harry is in danger," he clipped shortly but low enough that only the two of them heard. "I just realized that the boomslang thief was a deatheater using Polyjuice to masquerade as Moody, probably all year. This has been an elaborate ruse to kidnap Potter, and I must go into the maze and fetch him at once."
"We're coming too," Ron told him firmly, setting his jaw in determination.
"You will not," Snape told him with a deathly chill.
"He is our friend!" Ron protested.
"If you take one step into that maze you will find yourself with a sticking spell over my desk," Snape warned darkly. "And yes, it will be a cane and I will show no mercy."
"Worth it," Ron told him defiantly, though Snape could tell he paled a bit at the mental picture.
"You have no care for how to be truly useful," Snape growled. "All you care about it your stupid Gryffindor bravado. But you will obey me in this, I want no part of having under-aged wizards underfoot that I need to protect."
"We can help!" Ron protested, his face turning scarlet in indignation. "Do you know how many times Harry tried to do it alone without help? You're bloody well just like him!"
Snape, incensed by what he felt was one of the worst insults the red-haired wizard could give him looked ready to give Weasley that promised caning on the spot. "How dare you?" he asked with deadly intensity.
"Professor," Hermione interrupted. "None of this is helping Harry. Time is important right now."
"That's true," he acknowledged, trying to get his temper under control. "You are costing your friend my help, Weasley."
"I can help too!" Ron protested.
"Are there other ways we could be of help perhaps?" Hermione suggested.
Snape, appreciating her tact, took a deep breath and thought for a moment, and then rummaged into a pocket in his robe. He was so used to relying only on himself that it was foreign to him to think to ask for the help these two students could actually give him. "Miss Granger, if you could take this portkey and summon Dumbledore, that would be of help. Tell him what I told you and tell him that he needs to come here as quickly as possible."
"Yes, sir," she answered, taking the coin from him.
"Go somewhere you won't be seen, and the activation word is, 'Lemon drops.'"
"I will hurry," she promised, hurrying off.
"Mr. Weasley, I want you to go to my office and floo call your father at the ministry. Tell him that you are worried that your pet owl is going to bolt."
"Yes, sir," he nodded.
"The password for the portrait on my door is, "hellebore."
"I will hurry," Ron told him.
"The floos are easy to eavesdrop upon," Snape warned him. "Only give your father the message I gave you, and use those exact words. He will know to summon Auror Shacklebolt to the school at once, and will hopefully come himself. We need as many trustworthy wizards as possible here now. Wait by the floo, and once they come through then brief them on my conclusions."
Ron nodded, grateful to be useful, and then scampered off. Snape turned his attention to the maze, determining the best route. He couldn't just walk in – that would raise too many questions. As one of the professors that created the maze, however, he had an advantage. Not only did he know where the devil's snare and assorted hurdles were hidden for the contestants to overcome, but he also knew a way to get in unseen.
Walking swiftly and with purpose (as he found very few people willing to challenge him when he walked fast with a scowl on his face) he went around the side of the maze to where there was a clearer spot in the bramble surrounding the maze. Though the maze had been grown on what had previously been the Quidditch pitch, it seemed larger and more ominous than should have been able to fit on just the pitch. Glancing around to make sure he was unnoticed, it was easy enough to open the brambles enough for him to be able to slip into the maze.
Snape walked with purpose again, knowing instinctively which turns to make. He had to make short work of a blast-ended skrewt, however, and he cursed Hagrid as he stepped over its inert body.
Suddenly, a spell blast went by his ear as he shielded automatically.
"What are you doing?" he yelled at Viktor Krum, who was approaching him.
Instead of answering, he fired again with what Snape saw was the cruciatus. He had been lucky that his reflexes had enabled him to dodge, the shield he'd erected could do nothing against the unforgivable. Snape, dodging expertly as he shielded again, fired back and knocked the man's wand out of his hand, throwing him unconsciously to the ground.
"The Imperious Curse," Snape breathed to himself, realizing that "Moody" had further ensured that Harry would win the cup. Krum would never have fired the cruciatus without being under the Imperious curse. And if "Moody" had been willing to do this, then there was no limit to what he would do. He had to hurry.
Snape swiftly went through the maze, his wand drawn. A few minor remnants of obstacles attempted to slow him, but his instincts took over as he was able to move swiftly to the end of the maze. He thought he heard muffled talking a few times, and prayed that he would be able to make it in time. He had to separate his mind from his body in order to stave off the rising panic he felt inside. What if he wasn't in time?
A golden mist turned him upside down, and he grunted in disapproval. He really had no patience for interruptions like this. He had to hope that the two Gryffindors were able to summon help, and that he could find Potter in time.
And then, he rounded the corner as he saw Harry and Cedric Diggory about to grasp the Triwizard cup together.
"No!" Snape yelled as he lunged for the boys, and found himself sucked right along side them into the unknown.