News of Harry and his two friends being carried into the Hospital Wing spread like wildfire.
But what shocked the students even more was that the three had been injured while trying to stop Professor Quirrell and protect the school's treasure.
In less than a day, no fewer than ten theories sprang up about the incident, with the version involving Professor Fawley spreading the fastest—
It was said that Professor Quirrell, resentful of Professor Fawley's excellent teaching and far greater popularity among the students, came up with a bizarre idea—steal the professor's lesson plans.
After discovering Quirrell's sinister plot, the trio bravely stepped forward, choosing to get hurt rather than let the professor's notes be taken.
As a result, student admiration for the trio skyrocketed, and gifts piled up on their beds.
By the time Tver came to visit, the presents were overflowing.
"I just ran into George and the others in the hallway. They were carrying three toilet seats. Looked like they were meant for you."
After searching for space and finding none, Tver simply divided his little imp chocolates among the trio.
And of course, there was a new badge for Ron.
"What's this?" Ron gaped in surprise.
Tver blinked. "A badge for our heroes."
At that, Ron's eyes grew misty. His right hand clenched the badge so hard that its edges dug into his skin, yet he felt no pain—only a surge of strength welling up from within.
Harry grinned as he unwrapped his chocolate and split it with Ron. Ron, as if catching the mood, grinned just as widely.
Compared to Harry and Ron, happily munching away without a care, Hermione only stared blankly at the chocolate in her hand.
"Professor, may I ask you a question?" she said suddenly.
Tver turned to her in surprise.
"What is it?"
After a long hesitation, Hermione lifted her head, her voice steady. "You're the one who truly wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone, aren't you?"
At this, Harry and Ron froze in unison, chocolate still coating their teeth as they stared at the two in shock.
Tver smiled easily.
"And how did you figure that out?"
Hermione laid out her reasoning at once, clear and precise.
"By working backward from the outcome, you can see a lot of details. First, when Quirrell spoke to you, there wasn't a hint of him coercing you—if anything, it looked like you were coercing him. He was clearly wary of you."
"You used the word 'hero' just now, and you saved Harry in the end. That proves you were in control of what happened there. You might have been present the whole time, waiting for Quirrell to fetch the Philosopher's Stone for you."
"Most crucially, last night Harry and the others heard two loud bangs, but I only heard the second. That means the first was in their minds. It sounds very much like a spell you used—meant to rattle them, but keep them from running into the other professors."
"I—"
"Don't bother denying it," Hermione blurted, her face suddenly flushing red. "I... I know every single spell you've ever used!"
Tver patted her shoulder gently.
"Impressive. I didn't think anyone could spot so many flaws in such a careful plan. I have to admit, you're the brightest little witch I've ever met, Hermione."
Hermione's face turned scarlet, and she stammered, "Please don't say that. I just like reading books. I'm nothing like Ron and Harry—they're the brave ones."
"On the contrary," Tver said with a smile. "If you hadn't saved Harry at the end, I might never have realized all this."
Harry and Ron exchanged bewildered looks. The two of them were modestly complimenting each other, but what they really wanted was to hear about Professor Fawley's plan!
"Then, Professor," Harry asked curiously, "why did you want to steal the Philosopher's Stone? Was it for immortality?"
"Or for gold?" Ron chimed in right after.
"Neither," Tver said with a calm smile, shaking his head. "That's not something you need to worry about. Just know that I did want to obtain the Philosopher's Stone."
"But..." Harry glanced around the hospital wing nervously before lowering his voice. "Can you still get it now?"
"Do you need help? I'm really fast at the chessboard!" Ron whispered, as if they were plotting another secret mission.
Hermione rolled her eyes at the two of them. "If the professor is here in plain sight, it means Headmaster Dumbledore already knows everything!"
Tver nodded, looking pleased.
"Yes, and that's why I appreciate your willingness to help. But I must remind you—try not to make a habit of breaking school rules."
"Besides," he added, pulling a gleaming red stone from his pocket, "Headmaster Dumbledore has already given the Philosopher's Stone to me. There's no need to steal it."
"What about Nicolas Flamel?"
"Will you brew the Elixir of Life?"
"Or conjure gold?!"
The trio shot up from their beds, eyes wide, each blurting out a completely different question.
"Headmaster Dumbledore will explain Mr. and Mrs. Flamel's situation to you," Tver said patiently. "As for the stone—I've never learned how to use it, nor do I have any desire for immortality or gold."
According to the feedback from his badge, even with the curse still eroding him, gathering the four founders would grant him at least two hundred years of life. By then, he'd be an old man with no teeth left—more than enough time to get tired of living.
Harry and Ron slumped back into their beds, disappointed, while Hermione bowed her head in quiet sadness. She already understood what fate awaited the Flamels.
"For some, death is more like a restful sleep," Tver murmured softly beside her. "What they deserve is respect, not pity."
"Now then," he said, straightening up, "eat your chocolate. Both you and Harry were hit by my Stunning Spell. I kept it as restrained as possible, but forgive my arrogance—my magic might've been a little too strong."
The moment he said that, Harry and Hermione yawned so widely it looked like they'd been enchanted again.
A Stunning Spell was normally easy to counter, and a simple Disenchantment Charm would wake the victim. But Tver's magic had been too potent, and their magical resistance too weak, leaving them with a lingering drowsiness.
Ironically, after everything that had happened, Ron was the one with the most injuries. Still, there were no lasting effects—he only needed a day's rest before he could be discharged.
Just then, a commotion erupted outside the door.
"Let us in, Percy!"
"I know they're awake!"
"The problem is—you need to put down those filthy toilet seats first!"
Percy's furious voice drowned out the twins' protests, loud enough that everyone inside could hear every word.
A minute later, the three of them entered, still bickering, the twins' hands now conspicuously empty.
"Uh, Professor," Percy said immediately, switching into his serious tone. Even the twins pinching his cheeks couldn't break his composure. "We didn't know you were here."
"No need to be so formal," Tver said with a light chuckle. "But I should be on my way."
"Wait, Professor—" Percy called out suddenly.
"What is it?" Tver asked, curious. Since when did the younger generation have so many questions?
"Well," Percy began, "our previous Defence Against the Dark Arts professors usually only teach for one year. So... what are your plans for next year?"
Unlike the first-years, who were still confused, Percy and the others already knew how that position tended to go. They looked at Tver with open reluctance.
"Don't worry," Tver replied with a small smile. "I have no plans to leave Hogwarts for at least a few years."
"Woo-hoo!"
The twins cheered loudly enough to shake the entire Hospital Wing, immediately drawing Madam Pomfrey's wrath.
"This is the Hospital Wing! Quiet down!"
Percy quickly pushed his brothers' heads down. "Sorry, Madam Pomfrey! We'll keep it down."
Once she left, he turned back to Tver again.
"Professor, do you know what happened to Professor Quirrell?"
"Quirrell?" Tver mused for a moment. "Well, let's just say he won't be teaching you anymore."
Given what was left of him, not even Tver could've pieced him back together...
Though he'd often joked that Quirrell's presence or absence made no difference, Percy still sighed. "So I guess we'll be self-studying again this year?"
"Not quite," Tver replied. "I'll be temporarily taking over Quirrell's duties, in charge of the school's Dark Magic—"
"Woo-hoo!"
Before Tver could even finish, Percy let out a triumphant cheer just as loud as the twins'.
"I'm going to tell everyone—everyone!" he yelled, racing toward the door in excitement.
"Wait, Percy! We came to visit Ron, remember?!" George called after him.
"Forget that—!" came Percy's voice, already fading down the hall.