The ring, of course, didn't argue with Tver's words; even it could see the purity in Percy's heart.
"To be honest, I don't like using these kinds of methods to recruit subordinates. In today's magical world, who still talks to you about ideals?"
Tver toyed with the ring, his tone amused.
"Ideals and interests aren't actually in conflict. Besides, only those who carry great ideals can unleash true power."
"But he's still a student. No matter how good his grades are, he can't be as useful as Cynthia, can he?"
"Usefulness isn't measured by size."
Tver didn't elaborate further. In his plans, Percy would one day become not only Cynthia's ally within the Ministry of Magic but also his own representative among the pure-blood families aligned with the side of light. But that was for after Percy graduated.
Tonight was mostly a whim—an experiment to test how well he could draw people to his side.
Winning over Cynthia had been far too easy. Back then, all he'd done was share his vision for the future, and she'd nearly drawn her wand on the spot, eager to challenge the International Confederation of Wizards. Only Percy's struggle and anger gave him a taste of the intoxicating thrill of persuasion.
As his teacher would say, perhaps this was his first step into mastery.
The ring couldn't understand such thinking. To it, there were only useful servants and useless enemies. Since Tver wasn't trying to conquer the world, what was the point of winning over this brat?
Still, it said nothing. In truth, it almost hoped Tver would keep gathering such worthless subordinates and eventually fail—freeing it from his torment once and for all. Tonight's research filled the ring with a chill deeper than ever before.
"So, you're planning to make Hogwarts your base and turn all the students into your followers?" it asked cautiously.
Tver chuckled.
"You already know these students are weak. Why would I bother?" He returned to his desk. "Instead of worrying about that, think about how you can help me with my research."
The ring fell silent.
...
Studying Voldemort's soul soon became part of Tver's daily life. And to make Percy more useful, he provided him with extra tutoring.
He mainly taught him Occlumency, so that once Percy entered the Ministry of Magic, no one could easily read his thoughts. Percy's learning speed, however, far exceeded Tver's expectations. Without neglecting his regular studies, he managed to master Occlumency quickly in his spare time.
It gave Tver a strange sense of satisfaction, as if he were raising a character in a game, and his interest in teaching Percy only deepened.
As Percy's strength grew and his thinking matured, his demeanor became more composed. Still, on Tver's advice, he maintained an outwardly cheerful and optimistic persona. Now, whenever Tver looked at him, he couldn't shake a strange feeling—it was as though Percy were imitating him.
Hiding his true desires beneath a gentle smile.
Even the Weasleys, who knew Percy best, only envied that he was taking private lessons with a professor, completely unaware of how much he'd changed.
Compared to Percy's progress, though, Tver's Horcrux research was moving painfully slowly. But it wasn't something that could be rushed. After all, there were only seven Horcruxes, and he currently had just the diadem and the ring.
If he damaged them, there would be nothing left to study. And on top of that, he was still a professor responsible for teaching seven year groups.
...
The third-year classroom buzzed with curiosity as Tver entered, carrying a covered cage in his hands.
"I imagine you've already guessed," he said, setting it down on the desk. "Our class is about to welcome some—"
He grinned widely. "Interesting creatures."
A loud thud came from inside the cage, as if responding to his words, making several students jump in surprise.
But instead of immediately uncovering the cage, Tver turned to the class with an announcement.
"After discussion, Headmaster Dumbledore has approved my proposal to reform the final exam for Defence Against the Dark Arts," he said. "To help you adapt to the O.W.L.s two years from now, the exam will now consist of both a theoretical and a practical component!"
"Oh, no!" George shouted in horror.
The students immediately joined in his protest, the classroom erupting into chaos—just like the very first lesson they'd had with Tver. They'd all seen how the fifth-years had been acting lately: clutching exam papers, muttering, "This is a gimme question, gotta remember it," looking constantly on edge. Some had even started turning to superstition, praying under their breath for better luck.
They definitely didn't want to end up like that.
But Tver quickly doused their hopes with a bucket of cold reality.
"What are you thinking? With your current magic, you won't even get the chance to be like the fifth years!"
"..."
The students froze, swallowing their complaints, though many looked like they wanted to flop onto the floor and play dead.
"Professor, you should've told us sooner! You had us all worried," George said, forcing a laugh.
"You didn't listen carefully," Tver replied coolly. "This year's final exam will weigh theory and practice equally. Fail the theory, and you'll be spending your summer doing homework."
"What about the practical portion?" Roger Davies asked quickly.
Tver didn't answer, only gave him a meaningful smile that made every student shiver.
As in their previous practice lessons, he led the class to the open space at the back of the room. Turning to face them, he set the cage on the floor.
"Now then, today's lesson is to get acquainted with the little cutie inside this cage," he said, pulling away the black cloth. "So, does anyone recognize what this is?"
Inside the cage was a jet-black feline creature. Its hairless body looked almost grotesque, and the solid white, pupil-less eyes gave it an eerie appearance. Most students immediately lost any urge to laugh.
"Is that... a Matagot?" Davies guessed uncertainly.
"Honestly, it kinda looks like our house mouse, Scabbers," George joked.
Fred snickered. "Bald, ugly, weird eyes... probably the second ugliest creature at Hogwarts."
Davies blinked. "What's the first?"
"Filch, of course!" the twins chorused, bursting into laughter.
Their laughter spread through the room, and soon even Tver was grinning as he watched them.
"That's right," he said. "This is a Matagot, also known as a magic cat. They don't usually attack unless provoked."
He unlatched the cage. The Matagot sprang out in a flash, landing neatly in front of the students.
"Unless, of course," Tver added, his eyes gleaming, "you anger it."