There was still a little time before dinner, but winter nights in Britain always came early. By the time the clock neared five, it was already too dark to see the distant path without lamplight.
Tver cast a guiding Lumos Charm, letting the reluctant students follow the light as they made their way back to the castle. Once they were gone, he made a few small adjustments to the training ground—shrinking the area to half its size and setting up a minor imp enchantment.
Only after finishing did he stroll leisurely toward the warmly lit castle.
But as he stepped through the great doors, he ran into someone unexpected.
Or rather, someone who had clearly been waiting for him.
"Well, well, well... if it isn't our dearly beloved Professor Fawley?"
Snape stood to one side of the dimly lit entrance, half of his body hidden in shadow. Only his pale face was visible—mouth curved into a faint, mocking smile, eyes cold and sharp as ice.
Tver nearly jumped at the sudden, sinister voice. For a moment, he almost drew his wand.
"I wouldn't say beloved," he replied evenly, slipping the wand back into his robe pocket, "but at least I'm busier than you, Professor Snape—who seems quite comfortable lurking here."
He straightened his robes and smiled politely.
Snape gave a quiet, humorless chuckle, ignoring the jab.
"I'm curious," he said, the sneer still playing at his lips while his eyes hardened to a cutting glare. "You only teach three year levels, yet you've been missing since yesterday morning and only now decide to reappear?"
The smile stayed, but the threat in his gaze was unmistakable—if Tver's answer wasn't satisfactory, his wand might be in his hand the next second.
Tver blinked, slightly surprised to find himself under Snape's suspicion.
Had that fool Quirrell said something?
"Unlike Potions," Tver said calmly, "Defense Against the Dark Arts requires certain creatures for demonstrations. I went into the Forbidden Forest to find a few. Is that a problem?"
Snape's dark eyes flicked over him from head to toe, finally settling on his empty hands. "And the animals?"
"Dead," Tver replied lightly, smiling as if it were the most natural thing in the world. In the flickering torchlight, the grin looked almost eerie.
Snape's smirk vanished. His eyes narrowed to slits as he stepped forward, moving into the light—and in doing so, casting Tver's face into shadow.
"I trust you understand your position here," he said coldly. "So don't do anything that might draw unwanted attention."
"Thanks for the warning," Tver said, his smile deepening. "Though I'd say I'm far less suspicious than you, Professor Snape."
His tone shifted—light, almost playful. Leaning in slightly, he added in a low voice, "I don't know what you're up to, nor do I care what you and Quirrell are scheming. But if I ever suspect ulterior motives, I won't hesitate to lace your dinner with Veritaserum."
"Perfect," Tver murmured, his tone unbothered. "I've always wondered what Veritaserum tastes like. Though you might want to be careful—I'd probably end up saying things the students aren't ready to hear."
He smiled faintly. "Like, say... your connection to the Dark Lord."
Snape's eyes hardened immediately. Dumbledore's protection meant he wasn't truly afraid of his past being exposed—but his actions within Hogwarts were under constant scrutiny.
If anything jeopardized the mission he was tasked with, it would be unacceptable.
His expression darkened, and when he spoke again, his voice was edged with barely restrained anger.
"I don't care what you know. If you dare defy—"
But before Snape could finish, his expression shifted sharply toward the corner of the corridor. "Who's there?!"
Less than a second later, three small figures crept out from around the bend.
"Uh," Harry began awkwardly, "professors, we just finished dinner, so we came here to, um…"
"To aid digestion!"
Ron interrupted loudly, nodding with exaggerated confidence and patting his round stomach as if that somehow made his excuse more believable.
Hermione winced and tugged on the back of his robes. "Stop talking! Snape's glare could kill you!"
"If no one has ever taught you manners," Snape said icily, "perhaps you should consult the troll from Halloween. He'd have much to teach you."
"Five points from each of you."
He cast one last sharp glance at Tver before sweeping away, his robes billowing behind him.
The trio let out a collective sigh of relief.
They were used to losing points by now. Fifteen in one go was steep—but not the worst they'd seen.
"Three papers," Tver said suddenly, smiling at them. "Each of you will write three papers. If you don't finish them by the end of next week, your Christmas present will be an entire stack of essays—enough to last you until the end of term."
He had been careless—just like Snape.
Fatigue was part of it, but the recent surge in his power had made him a bit overconfident. And as someone who held himself to high standards, he couldn't allow such a basic lapse in judgment.
Handing out nine sheets of parchment, he turned and walked away.
He'd been planning to have dinner, but at this point, rest sounded far more appealing.
Left behind, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared miserably at their assignments.
Hermione flipped through the papers. The content wasn't simple—many questions required written analyses.
She didn't seem bothered, even a little intrigued. She might have actually wanted to see what the professor's "Christmas gift" would be. But Harry and Ron were far less enthusiastic.
"Three papers? That's way too much!" Harry groaned as soon as Tver was gone, staring down at the parchment in dismay.
Ron sighed. "Forget it. We'll each do one. With the look Professor Fawley had back there, I didn't dare ask for mercy!"
"This is the first time I've heard of homework like this after class," Hermione said, shaking her head as she showed them the essay questions. "And knowing him, he won't leave any loopholes."
She glanced cautiously in the direction Tver had gone. "Still, I've never seen him so angry before. What do you think he and Snape were talking about?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Ron said indignantly.
"Snape's probably forcing the professor to steal that thing! That's why he's been disappearing all the time!"
Harry nodded seriously. "Exactly! Snape even told him to remember his place. Maybe he's got something on the professor and is blackmailing him!"
Hermione gave the two of them a skeptical look.
Tver's attitude earlier had been anything but fearful—how did they come up with this nonsense so quickly?
Still, she had no better explanation. So she said vaguely, "Then our top priority right now is to find out who Nicolas Flamel is."
"And what's really going on with Professor Fawley!" Ron added solemnly.
"…Fine. If possible," Hermione sighed, "let's also find out what kind of leverage Snape has over him."
"And then help the professor take him down!"
"…"