As soon as Snape left, the trio broke into grins.
"That was amazing!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "Professor, you shut old… Snape up with just one sentence!"
Hermione, however, looked curious. "Professor, did your mother know Harry's mother?"
"They crossed paths a few times, but they weren't close," Tver replied, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Now then, what are you all doing standing around here? Holding a debate over your exam results?"
"It was Malfoy," Harry said, pointing toward the visibly uneasy Malfoy. "He cast a spell on Neville's legs!"
Tver glanced at Neville, who was indeed under the effects of a Leg-Locker Curse. With a snap of his fingers, he dispelled the magic, then turned his gaze on Malfoy, who was already trying to sneak away.
"P-Professor, I was just practicing spells—yes, practicing—and I accidentally—" Under Tver's expressionless stare, Malfoy's voice grew smaller and smaller until it trailed off completely.
"Ten points from Slytherin," Tver said calmly. "Mr. Malfoy, bullying your classmates doesn't prove your strength. It only makes you look weaker."
"Yes, Professor."
Malfoy kept his head down, his face hidden, but his hands fidgeting with the hem of his robe betrayed his nervousness.
Tver stepped closer and patted him lightly on the arm. "You have strong magical talent, but you need to learn to use it in the right way. Otherwise, it's no different from wasting it."
"Oh, and by the way," he added with a faint smile, "I'll be visiting your home this summer. Would I be welcome?"
"Of course!" Malfoy's head shot up immediately. "I—we'd be honored to have you, Professor!"
Overjoyed, he didn't waste another second, rushing off toward the owlery with Crabbe and Goyle in tow.
Ron made a face. "Professor, are you close with the Malfoys?"
"Don't forget, I'm from a pure-blood family myself," Tver replied with a casual shrug. "Pure-blood families are all connected one way or another."
"Still better than Snape," Harry said loudly. "If anyone in this school looks like the villain, it's definitely him!"
Unlike in the story, Harry hadn't missed a single Quidditch match because of his injury. However, the lingering aftereffects of his drowsiness had cost him precious time catching the Golden Snitch.
With Snape acting as referee—and clearly biased—the Gryffindor team quickly fell behind. In the end, Hufflepuff's Chaser Cedric caught the Snitch, and Harry's team narrowly missed the Quidditch Cup.
Even after learning from Dumbledore that Snape had been protecting him, it didn't change the fact that Snape remained the person Harry disliked most.
Tver, however, looked at him seriously. "Harry, don't judge someone before you've seen their heart. Those kinds of judgments are usually one-sided."
Harry blinked, confused, but Tver had no interest in explaining. Instead, he turned his attention to Neville, who had been silent the entire time.
"You three head back," he said. "I need a word with Neville."
Of the trio, only Hermione immediately picked up on Neville's discomfort.
Ron and Harry both looked like they wanted to ask questions, but Hermione quickly tugged them away.
"Let's take a walk in the corridor," Tver suggested. "It's almost evening, but the sunlight's still nice."
Neville followed quietly behind.
Most students were either sitting exams or preparing for them, so the corridors were nearly empty—leaving the two of them alone and undisturbed.
After walking for a while, perhaps it was the sunlight that gave Neville the courage to finally speak.
"Professor… am I really that useless? I couldn't even break a Leg-Locker Curse."
"The Leg-Locker Curse isn't a simple spell," Tver replied evenly. "You have to admit, Malfoy's got a real knack for magic in that area. But that doesn't mean your talent is poor."
"For example, your exam results this time were quite satisfactory."
Neville, however, kept his head down, mumbling to himself about his flaws.
"But I always forget things without meaning to. My spellcasting never feels smooth—it always…"
Tver suddenly stopped walking and turned around, causing Neville to nearly bump into him.
"I said," Tver repeated, "your results were excellent."
Neville's round face flushed deep red. His mouth opened slightly, but he couldn't seem to form a response.
"The problems you face aren't really your fault," Tver continued calmly. "They're not impossible to overcome either. Or is it that you're simply lacking the courage to face them?"
"I… I—" Neville stammered, his face tightening with frustration. "I just don't want to waste your time, Professor!"
"Harry and Malfoy are both so gifted, Hermione's so clever, and Ron—he's improved more in a month of tutoring than I have all year."
"I'm the only one who keeps disappointing you. Sometimes I think, if you'd chosen someone else, they'd probably make you proud instead of holding you back."
Letting out what he'd been bottling up for so long, Neville finally exhaled shakily, feeling a strange sense of relief.
He wanted nothing more than to keep learning under this professor, but with his limited talent, he feared he was dragging him down—hurting his reputation, even. A professor as exceptional as Tver shouldn't be wasting his time on someone like him.
Tver sighed and shook his head helplessly.
He couldn't exactly tell Neville that his soul was worth studying, could he?
During his previous observation, Tver had already glimpsed Neville's magical will-line—an insight that had helped him locate Helga in the Forbidden Forest. That discovery alone was worth seven years of personal tutoring.
And even now, Neville's situation still puzzled him.
He had a feeling that Neville held the key to understanding the very nature of the soul.
"Look at me," Tver said, his tone suddenly sharp and cold—so much so that it startled Neville into immediately raising his eyes.
A faint light flashed across Tver's gaze, and Neville felt his memories begin to surface one after another:
Being accidentally pushed off the Black Lake dock by a relative, nearly drowning;
At eight years old, hanging headfirst from an upstairs window, only to slip again—this time bouncing across the garden and landing hard on the road;
At one year old, watching helplessly as intruders broke into his home…
Then, the stream of memory stopped abruptly. Clearly, that was where a Memory Charm had erased the rest.
Tver withdrew from the Legilimency.
But that still didn't explain how a missing fragment of memory could affect his spellcasting.
Neville's memory felt incomplete, as if there were a small gap—yet it didn't seem directly tied to magic. Even forgetfulness shouldn't cause someone's casting to falter like this.
Unless… that gap had affected his soul.
Tver quickly suppressed the surge of excitement that threatened to twist into a grin.
As much as he wanted to test his theory right away, he owed Neville his thanks for being such a willing subject.
"Do you see now?" Tver said softly, crouching down in front of him with a faint smile. "You are a true wizard. There's just something standing in your way—something waiting for you to overcome it."
"But… what is it?" Neville asked uncertainly.
"That's what we'll find out together," Tver encouraged. "Don't give up so easily. Be brave and face it. This school year is ending, but that's fine. Starting next term, I'll be helping you personally."
"Or… do you not want to change yourself?"
"Of course I do!" Neville's eyes were red, though he stubbornly held back his tears. "I won't let you down, Professor!"
"That's good." Tver smiled and stood up. "Now, go back and prepare for your final exams. I'll be looking forward to next term."