If Edward shared his thoughts with Harry, Ron, or Hermione right now, they'd probably think he'd finally studied himself into insanity.
If he told Daphne or Malfoy, they'd likely suggest a trip to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, because clearly the school infirmary wouldn't cut it for this level of mental breakdown.
But after mulling it over, Edward was convinced this was actually the most solid plan.
If Snape was truly behind everything, confronting him would be like walking into a trap.
But first, Edward didn't believe deep down that Snape was the mastermind.
Second, if he could confirm Snape wasn't the culprit, then Snape had to be on the opposite side of whoever was pulling the strings. Why else would he be muttering spells at Harry's broom?
From what Edward had read, curses usually had counter-curses. If Snape wasn't casting a curse on the broom or the Bludgers, he was likely trying to undo one, helping Harry.
This meant a teacher was already aware of the situation, which could help narrow down who the real mastermind was.
Finally, Edward wasn't afraid to face Snape, whether he was guilty or not.
If he wasn't, Edward could handle a tongue-lashing and some docked points—par for the course.
If he was, Edward was confident he wouldn't die in Snape's office. His Knight's Breathing technique and protective charms might not let him take down a fully-grown dark wizard, but they'd at least keep him alive.
And if he did end up sacrificing himself? So what? Sacrifice was a knight's greatest virtue. Edward wasn't scared.
But before that, he had to tell someone else, just in case he fell under a spell like the Imperius Curse. That way, someone would know the school and its students were in danger.
Then they could alert more teachers.
Of course, this was the worst-case scenario, a tiny possibility that would mean Edward had completely misjudged Snape.
But better safe than sorry.
In short, Edward was willing to take the risk—for his own beliefs and to ensure an innocent person wasn't wrongly blamed.
He valued honor and reputation, and he wasn't about to let someone's name—especially a teacher who'd looked out for him—be tarnished.
Soon, Edward returned to the Slytherin common room.
By the fireplace, Malfoy was trying to teach Crabbe and Goyle how to play Wizard's Chess, only to realize they were hopeless.
"Give it up, Draco. You're not cut out to be a teacher," Pansy teased from the side.
"Merlin's beard! How does Edward manage it? Getting you two to a passing grade in Potions?"
Malfoy raised his pale blond eyebrows, sweeping the brawling chess pieces aside in frustration, giving up.
"Patience, Draco. You need patience—and a bit of encouragement," Edward said as he walked in, tossing a big bag of snacks onto the table, instantly grabbing everyone's attention.
"If you're interested, I'm pretty decent at Wizard's Chess," he said to Crabbe and Goyle.
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The two boys' blank, slightly dopey faces lit up with grins.
Under Edward's friendly "guidance," their manners had improved quite a bit.
Especially after seeing some progress in their grades, they'd long forgotten the beating they'd taken on the train.
"Stocking up from Gryffindor, huh? Potter send you these?" Daphne casually picked up a Chocolate Frog.
"Help yourselves," Edward said with a smile, pointing at the snacks. "And, uh, Daphne, Draco—come here for a sec."
He pulled them aside, lowering his voice mysteriously.
"Do me a favor, consider it payment for the snacks," Edward whispered. "Here are two letters with two passwords."
"When you see me next, if I can't give the right password—or if I'm not back in two hours—go straight to Professor Dumbledore and tell him Snape's involved."
Daphne took the parchment envelope, inspecting it closely before saying, "Off meddling again, huh? So you're saying Snape tried to kill Potter?"
"What? No way. I mean, I'd love for someone to take Potter out—I'm kidding," Malfoy quickly backtracked. "Snape might hate Potter's guts, but he wouldn't try to kill him in front of the whole school, would he? What's his motive?"
"Just a hunch. Probably not him, but better to be prepared," Edward said, not elaborating further before heading out of the common room toward the Potions classroom.
He knocked on the old wooden door.
"Professor Snape, are you there?"
"If you knew how to turn a doorknob, you'd see it's unlocked," Snape's voice came from inside.
Snape was still at his desk, scribbling something in the dim light, surrounded by several thick books he was flipping through.
"Mr. Bedivere, you were just here for detention last night. What, hooked on it now?" he said without looking up, his tone biting.
"Good evening, Professor," Edward said, pushing the door open, his voice as polite and respectful as ever.
Before he could explain why he was there, Snape spoke first.
"I don't know what you're here for, but as Slytherin's Head of House, I'll remind you to focus on your studies," he said, slowly raising his head to lock eyes with Edward, as if trying to peer into his thoughts.
"Not to go chasing attention like some self-proclaimed savior, even if it earns you a few points."
Edward knew exactly who Snape was talking about and decided to cut to the chase.
"Professor, I need to ask you something. During today's Quidditch match, Harry Potter's broom started acting up, and the Bludgers were abnormal. Someone saw you staring at Harry and muttering a spell—"
Before he could finish, Snape shot up from his chair like a cat with its tail stepped on.
"Who told you that? How dare you?" he bellowed. "You're so arrogant now you'd question your teacher to his face? If you suspect me, why not run to Dumbledore and report me?"
Despite Snape's storm of rage, Edward remained calm, unfazed.
He was now even more certain his judgment of Snape was right.
"No, Professor, you've misunderstood," Edward said steadily. "I mean, if you were casting a counter-spell to save Harry's life, then you must know who's trying to kill him, right?"
"And the person who let the troll in on Halloween—it's probably the same one, isn't it?"
"Professor, can you tell me who it is?"
Faced with Edward's barrage of questions, Snape's furious expression froze. He was stunned.