Tver tucked the parchment away with satisfaction.
In truth, he had never left his office. Whether it was meeting Quirrell or stirring up trouble in the Forbidden Forest, those had all been handled by the dummies he created. With his airtight alibi in place, all he needed to do was wait for the well-meaning Quirrell to fetch the Philosopher's Stone for him~
After casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, Tver strolled leisurely out of his office and made his way to the fourth floor. By the time he reached the corridor, the harp Quirrell had set up had already gone silent, and the Three-Headed Dog was closing in on him, guided by its sharp sense of smell.
That wouldn't do. What if Harry and the others arrived? He waved his wand, setting the harp to play again. It would keep playing until the following night—long enough for the Three-Headed Dog to enjoy a proper sleep.
Just as he finished, the trio under the Invisibility Cloak hurried in. Perfect timing. Tver watched with mild amusement, experiencing for once what it felt like to be a bystander.
At the start of the term, Tver had assumed Harry and Ron were the kind of students who performed poorly. But after half a year of teaching, he realized that impression had been wrong. They simply disliked preparing for class and rarely reviewed theory afterward. Still, they paid close attention in lessons and took careful notes. Their grades couldn't compare to Hermione's, of course, but Harry's were comfortably above average. Ron's were a bit lower, but far from bad—somewhere between Exceeds Expectations and Acceptable.
In practice, all three of them had shown their worth when overcoming the professors' challenges. Ron's chess match was nothing short of brilliant. He'd ensured Hermione and Harry's safety while bravely using himself as bait, leading to the black pieces' defeat. Even Tver himself might not have handled it so perfectly. Of course, those enchanted chess pieces couldn't harm him anyway.
Hermione's knowledge and reasoning were impressive too, though her role had been a little less crucial compared to Ron's.
When they finally reached the last chamber, Harry gripped the bottle of potion tightly and took a deep breath.
"You go back to Ron. Take him and find Hedwig—send a message to Dumbledore. If you run into any other professors, even Professor Fawley, tell them too, alright?"
"But you're going to face Snape alone?" Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, her voice anxious. "I never should've agreed to come here! Just leave the Philosopher's Stone to Snape!"
"How can you say that?" Harry looked at her, confused by her hesitation.
"I… I've been thinking," Hermione said, frowning. "Why would Snape want to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"
"For gold, or immortality?"
"I thought that too—until tonight." Hermione's eyes gleamed with sudden sharpness. "You said Professor Fawley mentioned a master who needs unicorn blood to stay alive. In the wizarding world, who else could that be?"
Harry swallowed and frowned, voicing the name he had been dreading to speak.
"You mean… Voldemort?"
"Yes. Only he would want the Philosopher's Stone to bring himself back!"
"But isn't he already dead?"
Hermione shook her head slowly. "I don't know. But either way, I can't let you take that risk."
Harry only smiled lightly in return.
"If it really is Voldemort, shouldn't I be the one to stop him?"
Hermione looked at Harry's resolute expression and realized she simply couldn't find the words to make him change his mind.
"Alright, if you insist on doing this, then take these." She pressed two badges into Harry's hand.
"What are these?"
"These are Ron and my Shield Charm badges, plus your own. Wear them properly. While powerful magic can pierce a Shield Charm, if I understand correctly, all three badges will activate simultaneously when you're in danger—especially Ron's!"
Harry stared blankly at the badges in his hand. "Then why didn't Ron use this badge during the chess game?"
Hermione blinked, her eyes instantly welling up.
"He said only a hero like you deserves to use it."
"When you go back, tell him for me—and make sure to say it loud," Harry sniffed, his voice firm. "He's more of a hero than anyone I've ever met."
Hermione's tears flowed uncontrollably as she pulled Harry into a tight embrace.
"And you—you're the bravest person in my eyes too. But that line? You should tell him yourself when the time comes!"
With that, they wasted no time, each heading toward opposite ends of the room.
Tver watched from the side, his mouth twitching. Such a perfectly good scene turned into a farewell as if they were parting forever. He really wanted to go over and give Hermione a little tap on the head. Don't go planting these flags so casually! Still, he hadn't expected his single remark to be analyzed so deeply by Hermione. Truly, she was the brains of the trio.
...
After Harry entered the next room, Tver swiftly fired an almost invisible red beam, striking Hermione precisely and knocking her unconscious.
"I can't let you leave so easily~"
Tver carried her onto the table and re-cast the flames at both room entrances. This time, however, he used his own fire—Fiendfyre. Only after completing these preparations did he suppress his surging excitement and step inside.
Though the Philosopher's Stone no longer served to slow the curse for him, it could help shape a barely functional body for Voldemort's soul within the Horcrux. The very thought of having a Dark Lord as his subordinate was enough to thrill Tver.
It was still that same room, but this time the protagonists were Quirrell and Harry. Oh, and one Voldemort. Quirrell, however, appeared agitated, frantically revealing himself.
"—Snape?" He sneered contemptuously. "That fool was completely manipulated by me and Fawley. Of course, Fawley is a fool too!"
Harry, adorned with three badges, remained unfazed.
"I won't have you speak that way about Professor Fawley!"
"Ha, who knew he had a little fan." Quirrell narrowed his eyes in disdain, turning to face the Mirror of Erised. "Though he can't come save you now. In fact, without his help, I wouldn't have reached this place so easily. But he said this mirror holds the Philosopher's Stone—yet never told me how to get it. I can see the Philosopher's Stone in my hand, but it's inside the mirror. Damn it! If I can't get it, he won't get off easy either!"
Quirrell muttered to himself, his hand fumbling over the mirror, his expression growing increasingly frantic. According to the plan, he should have already obtained the Philosopher's Stone by now, then escaped Hogwarts through the secret passageway to flee far away with his master. If this dragged on any longer, not just Tver, but Dumbledore himself could return!
"Use that boy..." A hollow voice echoed from within his head.
The sound sent a chill down Harry's spine. He seemed to grasp where Voldemort was, as Hermione had mentioned. Yet his body was pulled uncontrollably toward Quirrell, drawn before the mirror.
"Look into the mirror! Tell me where the Philosopher's Stone is?!" Quirrell's face contorted into a hideous grimace as he stared at Harry, sparks crackling from his wand in his master's impatient grip.
"I don't know," Harry felt his pocket grow heavy, his heart sinking instantly. "I... I only saw us winning the House Cup. Professor Fawley was encouraging me, saying I did well."
"He's lying!" Voldemort suddenly roared. "The Philosopher's Stone is in his pocket! Kill him now!"