Gryffindor's Tradition

As compensation, Tver stayed in the classroom and answered some of Cedric and the others' questions about magic. It was nearly ten by the time they reluctantly left.

"If getting hung up for a night gets us private lessons from a professor, that doesn't sound so bad!" George said happily.

"Two things I love at once!"

Davis, having apparently unlocked some strange new trait, thought of the same possibility and immediately beamed with excitement. But seeing the disgusted looks from the other three, he hurriedly explained, "I mean, we get to fight the dummy and learn from the professor at the same time."

"But that dummy really was impressive. I've never heard of an object that could learn on its own," Cedric said with a sigh.

Fred waved a hand. "Professor Fawley knows all sorts of things. Did you notice his little bag? I'd bet anything it has an Undetectable Extension Charm on it!"

George nodded and gestured to show the size of a wallet.

"We tried casting an Undetectable Extension Charm on a small bag last year, but it was too difficult. Before we succeeded, Mum caught us and gave us a proper hiding."

He patted his backside, as though the pain still lingered there.

"But the law says private belongings can't be enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm," Davis said, staring at them in surprise.

"Why else do you think we got our bottoms smacked?"

"So Professor Fawley is just as restless as we are!"

The twins rubbed their hands together excitedly, as though they had found someone to endorse their mischief.

As for the restless Professor Fawley, he was still in the classroom studying the dummy.

By searching through its memories, Tver watched the students' training that night.

The Weasley Twins had the most clever ideas, but their spellcasting skills were the weakest. Even together, they were not as strong in combat as Cedric alone.

Of course, all four of their attack plans had come from the twins. That was their greatest strength—their quick wits.

Davis was more well-rounded. He was quicker-witted than Cedric and stronger in combat than the twins.

His abilities were fairly balanced. Students like him progressed in the most conventional way. If he kept improving, he would become a respectable powerful wizard, but his talent limited his ceiling.

As for Cedric, he was the promising youngster Tver admired greatly.

His fundamentals were solid, his spellcasting was skillful, and he was upright by nature. Several times, he had disregarded his own safety to rescue his teammates.

His only problem was that he was too upright.

In Tver's eyes, that was hardly a virtue.

The wizarding world was treacherous and unpredictable, especially the wizarding world a few years from now.

People like that often did not live long!

Even if Tver saved him four years from now, it would be difficult to guarantee that he would not encounter other dangers.

Stroking his chin, Tver stood in the classroom and thought until deep into the night.

Then, suddenly, he heard a loud crash and clatter.

"Quirrell? Is he really that impatient? And he's making such a huge racket?"

Out of curiosity, Tver cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and slowly headed toward the corridor on the fourth floor.

But the people he found surprised him somewhat.

Filch and Peeves.

As the castle's caretaker, Filch conducted his usual nightly patrol, focusing especially on the third floor.

Someone had told him that students would be wandering around the third floor at midnight tonight.

The students in the castle were never well-behaved, especially that pair of Gryffindor twins. He had to patrol every night to curb their nocturnal escapades.

But tonight, those students were not only wandering around after curfew—they had even dared to make such a tremendous noise!

A provocation!

A blatant provocation!

Burning with fury, Filch had tracked them here, only for those little wizards to dare run around the castle!

His old legs were nowhere near as nimble as the students', but fortunately, Peeves's shouts had pointed him in the right direction.

"Tell me, where are they now?" Filch asked in a low voice, barely suppressing his anger.

"Say 'please,' or I won't tell you anything," Peeves said mischievously, flipping over in midair.

"Fine—please tell me, where are they now?"

Peeves, notorious for his mischief, was not about to be so kind. Cackling, he flew off into the distance.

"I told you, I won't tell you anything!"

As Peeves's laughter faded away, only Filch's furious cursing remained in the corridor.

"You bastard! Just wait until I find a way to deal with you!"

But he could only curse a few times. Peeves had existed in the castle longer than anyone else, and even the generations of headmasters had been forced to let him run wild through the castle.

After finding nothing, Filch continued through the castle with his oil lamp, intending to rely on his cat, Mrs Norris, to find those students.

As for the door at the end of the corridor, he had tried it long ago. It simply would not open.

Not long after Filch left, the door he had thought impossible suddenly opened, and four panicked first-year students ran out in a blind rush.

They had intended to keep running, but a figure blocked their path.

"Pro... Professor Fawley!"

Harry's wide eyes were still filled with terror. It was hard to say whether the three-headed dog or the professor frightened him more.

With his hands behind his back, Tver expressionlessly swept his gaze over the four of them one by one.

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom."

As their names were called, each of them lowered their heads in shame. In the end, they all stood there silently, heads bowed.

"I didn't graduate from Hogwarts, so I'm not very familiar with the school's traditions. There's something I need you to answer for me."

"Is Gryffindor's tradition causing trouble?"

Harry wanted to argue, but when he looked up and saw Tver's calm expression, his mouth opened without any words coming out. He could only let out a regretful whimper like a puppy that had done something wrong.

The joy of joining the Quidditch team that afternoon vanished in an instant.

"Hm?" Tver walked over to Hermione. "Miss Granger, the clever one, could you tell me the answer?"

At the mention of her name, Hermione sniffed miserably, barely holding back her tears. It was the first time she had found herself unable to answer a professor's question.

But Tver's next words made them doubt their own ears.

"All right." Tver patted Harry on the shoulder. "It's already very late. Hurry back and get some sleep. Children who don't sleep enough won't grow tall."

Hermione immediately looked up, and her tears spilled over instead.

"But, Professor, shouldn't we—" she sobbed.

"Ah, you're right." Tver took out a small handkerchief and handed it to her with a smile. "But as I said, I wasn't a student at Hogwarts, so it's normal for me not to be familiar with certain rules, isn't it?"

Seeing Hermione frozen in place, Tver had no choice but to stuff the handkerchief into her hand before leaving with his hands behind his back.

"Remember, just this once. Don't let it happen again!"

Hermione stared blankly at the handkerchief in her hand, only snapping out of it after Harry nudged her twice.

"Come on, hurry up! If Filch catches us, we won't be this lucky again!"