Just as Tver was about to resume his research on the Horcrux—
Knock knock.
A sudden rap sounded at the door.
"Professor, I have some questions I'd like to ask. Are you in there?"
It was Percy's voice, though it carried a hint of uncertainty.
Well, wasn't that convenient?
Tver perked up immediately, gathering his things in haste. The lingering dark magic from the Horcrux, however, was harder to conceal.
After a quick tidy-up, he went to open the door himself.
"Come in," he said, patting Percy's shoulder as he guided him to a seat. "Tea or pumpkin juice?"
"Pumpkin juice, please."
The professor's fondness for pumpkin juice had long become a well-known secret in the Gryffindor common room. Many students preparing for exams had taken to drinking it too, believing it gave them strength.
Percy didn't really buy into such superstition, but since he was here, he didn't mind humoring the professor's preference.
Tver looked quite pleased and even poured him a full glass himself.
"Thank you," Percy said, taking a small sip.
Once he'd done so, Tver began casually, "How are you finding the lessons lately?"
At that, Percy was instantly reminded of the terror that came with Fawley's exams. The post-class test papers could be completed at one's own pace, but they were hard!
A single key topic could appear in a dozen different forms, each packed with subtle traps and twists.
Still, the practical work had gone much more smoothly, so he swallowed and replied, "My control over spells has improved a lot. I can dismantle magic much faster now—and I've even learned quite a few Nonverbal Spells."
Tver nodded approvingly.
Even with twelve subjects on his plate, Percy still managed to stay at the top of his year—without a doubt one of the brightest students in his class.
"Nonverbal Spells are sixth-year material," Tver remarked. "If you can pull them off during your exams, you'll leave the examiners speechless—and easily earn an Outstanding."
Percy gave a proud but restrained smile. "That's thanks to your teaching, Professor."
"But can you handle the workload?" Tver asked, handing him a piece of chocolate. "I heard you're aiming to sit all twelve exams. That's quite a strain."
"Honestly," he added, "I don't really understand that approach. In my view, choosing the subjects that align best with your goals is the wiser path."
Percy took the chocolate, running his fingers over the crinkling wrapper before murmuring, "It's because I don't know what my goal is..."
"Oh?"
Because he had no clear direction after graduation, he'd chosen every subject—just to avoid missing a potential path.
So this was the top student he'd been hearing about?
Tver's curiosity was piqued.
"I believe Professor McGonagall already held career guidance sessions for your year. Or have you still not decided?"
Percy nodded once, then hesitated and shook his head. "I told Professor McGonagall I wanted to work for the Ministry of Magic. She gave me a lot of practical advice."
"But lately, I've started to feel that even working at the Ministry might not solve what's really bothering me."
"That unsettled, are you?" Tver asked mildly. "Mind telling me what's troubling you?"
"It's my family," Percy said, his tone a mix of frustration and guilt. "You've probably heard from Ron—we're not exactly well-off."
"My father works so hard... well, maybe he's a bit eccentric, but he truly loves his job."
"And my mother, she's exhausted herself raising seven children. Yet even after all their efforts, they still have to worry about affording Ron's wand or my little sister's school fees!"
By the end, Percy's face had turned red, his hands clenched tightly into fists.
"I don't understand!"
"Why do those pure-blood families—so rotten in my eyes—get to enjoy wealth we could never earn in a lifetime, walking freely among the highest seats of power in this country?"
"And yet my two brilliant, capable brothers are stuck on the fringes of the wizarding world, doing thankless work for miserable pay!"
"My father gives everything he has, and still he's trapped at the very bottom of the Ministry!"
"It's not fair!"
"Do I have to claw my way to the top of the power ladder just to escape this fate?!"
He slammed his fist onto the desk. The crash was deafening, and pumpkin juice sloshed violently, spilling across the surface.
Startled by his own outburst, Percy froze. "I'm sorry, Professor. I got too worked up."
He reached to wipe the spill, but Tver stopped him, flicking his wand to clear the mess with a spell.
"I understand how you feel," Tver said evenly. "To be honest, I don't fully understand what's happening to our wizarding world either."
"The wizarding world?" Percy asked, puzzled. His thoughts hadn't stretched beyond his own family; he hadn't yet considered the larger picture.
"Yes, the wizarding world," Tver said, his gaze sharpening with intent. "If a society fails to reward those who work hard, then the problem doesn't lie with the workers—it lies with the society itself."
The weight of that stare made Percy's heart skip. His eyes flickered nervously.
"But… but my father isn't that hardworking," he said haltingly. "He doesn't really do his job properly—he spends his time tinkering with Muggle gadgets, playing with rubber ducks, modifying things that don't matter…"
"What about your brothers?" Tver interrupted, his tone firm. "Even though I haven't met them, I've heard enough—they were just as exceptional as you during their school years."
He leaned forward, his face set in a grave expression, his eyes sharp as needles. Percy found himself unable to look up.
"Or do you want to end up like them—brilliant, yet invisible? Watching those who know nothing order you around?"
"Percy, the wizarding world is broken. Working hard won't fix it. You said it yourself—pure-blood heirs like me—"
"I didn't mean you," Percy muttered, his voice small.
"Yes, you did," Tver replied quietly, almost kindly. "I can sit back and inherit wealth that I couldn't spend in ten lifetimes—wealth that keeps growing and will only grow more."
"But you?" His tone hardened. "You'll spend your life working yourself to the bone for the handful of Galleons that people like me toss your way."
He reached out and turned Percy's head so that their eyes met directly.
"The wizarding world is sick, Percy. What it needs isn't more effort—it needs a cure."
Percy swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "But… where do we find the doctor?"
Tver smiled faintly, his tone dropping to a whisper. "Right here, Percy. Right in this office."
"We're the ones who've seen the disease for what it is. And it's up to us to heal it—to reshape the wizarding world into something stronger, fairer… better."