To be honest, ever since their first encounter last year, Tver had more or less figured out Snape's intentions.
Smugly confident, he'd never taken the professor too seriously.
But to his surprise, Snape had nearly uncovered his secret—from a single book.
A secret he absolutely couldn't allow Dumbledore to learn.
Truly, Snape lived up to his reputation. It seemed Tver really had underestimated him.
Silently, he adjusted Snape's importance in his mind, though his expression betrayed nothing.
He accepted the book from him and flipped through a few pages. His old notes were still there, though the writing was faint with age. It was just an introductory science book, one he'd read several years ago.
"Honestly, I never expected Professor Snape to have such a deep interest in Muggles. Or is there another motive behind it?"
Tver smiled faintly as he raised the book, throwing the question back.
Snape's face darkened visibly, a spark of anger flashing in his eyes.
That reaction puzzled Tver.
Snape was always so cold and composed—how could a simple remark provoke such fury?
Wait. Muggles… could it be? Had Snape studied Muggle history for Lily's sake?
(Author's note: This isn't part of the original story. I added this to give Snape some depth regarding his understanding of Muggles.)
"You're supposed to be clever," Snape said, his voice turning sharp and cold as a winter draft. "Why don't you guess whether I have ulterior motives?"
At that tone, Tver knew he'd guessed correctly.
But he didn't dare press further. Everyone had their untouchable wounds, and prodding Snape's was crossing a line.
Besides, if Snape lost his temper and drew his wand, Dumbledore's attention would be drawn instantly—something Tver had no desire to deal with.
"We all have our reasons, don't we?" Tver said lightly as he set the book aside, careful not to further provoke him. "You have yours, and naturally, I have mine."
"Then what's yours?"
"Would you reveal yours?"
Snape froze, realizing he'd asked a foolish question.
"But you're staying at Hogwarts," he finally said, his tone low but steady. "That means I have a duty to protect the students here."
Tver blinked, momentarily surprised. Hearing such words from the man who terrified nearly every student in the castle was… unexpected.
"At least compared to you, I haven't shown any signs of wanting to harm them, have I?"
He spread his arms, completely unguarded, letting Snape see for himself.
Snape's cheek twitched slightly when he found nothing in Tver's expression.
"Not now," he said slowly, "doesn't mean not in the future."
He stepped closer, until he was standing directly before Tver.
"Don't think that because Dumbledore tolerates you, I'll let my guard down."
"On the contrary, I'll be watching you closely. Every move. Every word. And if I find anything suspicious, I won't hesitate to deal with you myself."
"So you'd best stay in your place as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor," Snape continued through clenched teeth, "and stay away from that boy."
Tver couldn't help but laugh softly.
He could understand Snape's sense of duty—to maintain order in the castle and protect Harry.
But really, Dumbledore was still here. Even if Tver lost his mind, he wouldn't dare attempt anything foolish.
Not that he ever intended to. He had no desire to disrupt the castle's peace, much less harm Harry Potter.
"If you really plan to 'deal with me,' Professor Snape, you might want to work on your skills first. As you are now, you're nowhere near ready."
Mockery glinted in Tver's eyes.
Snape's pupils contracted sharply.
He knew full well—it had been years since he'd fought anyone. His dueling skills had dulled, his mastery of dark magic long left untouched.
These past years, his focus had been entirely on potions. That he'd refined his secondary gift to such perfection was already proof of his exceptional talent.
But unless his opponent willingly drank one of his "special" brews, there was little he could do to strengthen his combat ability—especially against someone like Tver.
A faint chill of danger crept into Snape's chest.
In that moment, he quietly ranked Tver's threat level second only to Voldemort himself.
Forgive me, he thought bitterly. This time, it's for their protection.
"Just wait. I'll show you my true strength!"
With that, Snape angrily flicked his robes and swept away like a bat toward his office.
But just outside the door, around the corner, he ran into Harry and the others—three nervous figures clutching their cleaning supplies. Malfoy's mop was dripping water, and Ron's rag hadn't been wrung out properly.
They huddled in the shadows as if hoping the darkness could hide them. Such a tactic, of course, was an insult to Snape's intelligence.
"Failing to greet a professor—five more points from Gryffindor and Slytherin," Snape said coldly before striding off without another glance.
This time, Malfoy didn't dare protest. He kept his head down, muttering at Ron under his breath.
"This is all your fault! I told you we should've wiped the windows one more time!"
"I offered you the rag, and you didn't want it! What's the point of complaining now?!"
Harry sighed helplessly. He'd long since gotten used to the two of them arguing while they worked.
"Hurry up and get inside, or we'll miss curfew."
The two finally stopped bickering and followed Harry into the office.
"Professor, we've finished cleaning the first floor. You can check it now."
Tver glanced at the clock—it was half past nine.
Exactly an hour. That was about what he'd expected.
Thanks to magic, the castle barely gathered any dust or grime; a quick scrub was all it needed.
"In that case, put everything back where it belongs and head back."
"Huh?" the three of them exclaimed at once.
"You're not going to check?" Malfoy asked, wide-eyed.
Tver gave them a bright, reassuring smile.
"I've always had an unusual amount of faith in you three. I'm more than willing to trust your word."
The trio, moved almost to tears, nodded vigorously and thanked him all at once.
"Thank you for your trust, Professor!" *3
"Alright, then. Put the things away and get going."
They hurried to return the tools to their corner, then bid Tver farewell before heading out of the office.
On the way back to their common rooms, the three walked in silence for a while.
"Does this mean our detentions might be a bit easier from now on?" Ron asked, his eyes lighting up.
Malfoy's face brightened for an instant, but the moment he realized the idea came from Ron, his expression soured.
"That would betray the professor's trust! How could you even think that?!"
"It's not like I said we shouldn't clean at all—just relax a little!"
"Enough! Stop arguing!" Harry suddenly shouted.
Ron and Malfoy froze, staring at him in surprise.
"Didn't you hear that? A voice—cold and vicious!"
Harry turned toward the source of the sound. It came from a nearby wall.
"What? What voice?" Ron asked, scratching his head.
"It's coming from this wall!"
Harry pointed toward it. The plain stone wall now looked strangely sinister under the flickering torchlight, his words only making it feel more eerie.
"But… but I don't hear anything!" Malfoy stammered, his teeth chattering.
"How can you not? It's there!" Harry said sharply. "It's saying things like 'tear you apart' and 'kill you'!"
Even Ron began to tremble.
"Stuff like that… normal things don't say that, right?"
"Are you stupid? Talking walls aren't normal either!" Malfoy snapped, pointing at the wall. "My father always said, if something talks and you can't see its brain, stay far away from it."
"Funny, my dad said the same thing," Ron said, startled but oddly pleased.
"Then what are we waiting for? Run!" Malfoy shouted.
Harry watched as the two bolted off in a panic, then scratched his head in confusion.
"The sound… it's moving in their direction?"