Goodnight

Tver helplessly watched his chess game gradually reach a dead end. He had not expected the listener to stay focused while the lecturer got distracted instead.

"Of course, it's still somewhat difficult for you at your current level, so you can choose the required spells to focus on, supplemented by some practical combat."

"You still have a year. That's more than enough time to prepare."

After comforting Percy, whose brow had furrowed ever more tightly, they prepared to begin another game.

But at that moment, a thought suddenly stirred in Tver's mind.

The detection magic he had set up in the fourth-floor corridor had been triggered.

Since setting it up, this was the first time he had received feedback from it.

Surely it wasn't some student sneaking around after hours this time?

He did not let it show, however, and simply continued playing chess with Percy.

Cedric and the others, meanwhile, got to experience the differences between people.

Now that Percy was there, the professor answered their questions with obvious absentmindedness, giving perfunctory replies like, "The answer is in the textbook. Remember to read it properly," or, "There was similar content in the previous private lessons. Making the connection yourself doesn't take that much brainpower."

But when Percy asked something, the professor said, "If you're interested, you'll get the training dummy in a little over a week anyway. They can only use it for a month, after all."

That was way too utilitarian!

After secretly exchanging looks, they all came to the same resolution—improve their wizard chess skills and strive to become the professor's useful tools!

At exactly nine fifty-five, Tver wrapped up on schedule. Only after Percy and the others had left the classroom did he quietly head up to the fourth floor.

With curfew approaching, students occasionally hurried past.

At the stairwell on the third floor, Filch was also holding an oil lamp, with a cat standing at his feet. One moment, he glared menacingly at the students; the next, he lowered his head to check a battered pocket watch, eagerly awaiting curfew.

But the fourth floor was still a restricted area. Even if a student accidentally lingered there, their companions would remind them and pull them away.

Tver glanced at the door.

That person had also placed detection magic on it, but it was far too crude, as though it had been set up carelessly.

With a casual gesture, he blocked it and sensed the activity inside.

There was music, but no major fluctuations of magic.

Unless the wizard inside had entered solely to stand perfectly still and admire the Three-Headed Dog's sleeping posture, there was no way they could have escaped his detection.

So he pushed the door open without concern.

Well, this wizard really was standing perfectly still, admiring the Three-Headed Dog's sleeping posture.

"You're finally here, Tver."

Quirrell, who had had his back to him, turned around and looked at him smugly.

Since his Disillusionment Charm had been seen through, Tver revealed himself as well, studying Quirrell with confusion as if he did not know him.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Wasn't it easy to guess? A new professor, powerful," Quirrell's expression suddenly twisted viciously, "and you even ordered students to attack me! Who else could it be but you?!"

Tver's eyes were full of speechlessness. He had not expected Quirrell to be so petty.

"What if I said that really was an accident? Would you believe me?"

"I...!" Quirrell gritted his teeth in fury, but the next second he forced out an ugly smile. "It doesn't matter. Your identity has already been exposed. We're on the same starting line now."

That did indeed surprise Tver somewhat.

The longer he kept his identity hidden, the more advantageous it would be for him. He just had not expected Quirrell to suddenly get smarter and lure him here.

Of course, he was more inclined to believe this was Voldemort's doing.

Fortunately, though, his goal and Voldemort's were temporarily the same.

"Don't be so hostile. Our goals are the same, so why can't we be a little friendlier?"

Quirrell sneered, but did not continue mocking Tver. He also knew that they needed to work together now if they wanted to deceive Dumbledore and obtain the Philosopher's Stone.

"Since that's the case, would my good friend be willing to take me down for a look?"

"With pleasure."

After putting on a show for each other, Tver led him through the chambers below with practiced ease, arriving at the chessboard for the third time.

"Go on, then! Why have you stopped moving forward?!" Quirrell demanded impatiently.

Tver shrugged. "To open the door ahead, we have to win this game of chess. This board isn't simple. At least, I haven't found a way through it yet."

Even if he could get through, Tver would not do so.

He still needed Quirrell to help lure Dumbledore away and obtain the Philosopher's Stone!

Watching Quirrell pace back and forth in frustration, he egged him on. "Why don't you try the chessboard and see whether I'm lying?"

Quirrell had intended to retort, but a voice suddenly rang out in his mind.

"Go up and try it."

"But, Dark Lord, I don't know how to play wizard chess." Quirrell's eyes suddenly lit up. "Do you? Why don't you play this game instead?"

"...Neither would I!"

Voldemort roared, then fell silent.

Quirrell immediately shrank back, muttering under his breath, "You don't know how either, yet you made me go up there?"

Tver had thought Quirrell was plotting something, and worried he might brute-force his way through and draw Dumbledore and the other professors here.

"Stop thinking about it. Unless you can get the chess moves Professor McGonagall set up, you'll have to find a way to win this game."

Quirrell hesitated on the spot for a while before finally going up to give it a try.

He had only just learned the rules, and he lost even faster than Tver had back then.

"Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick handled the earlier parts, so the later challenges must have been arranged by Snape and you—along with Dumbledore's, of course."

Quirrell nodded in agreement.

He had known all this when Dumbledore called him in to set up the challenges.

"Don't worry, mine is very simple. The key is Dumbledore's magic. Have you figured anything out?"

"No!"

Tver rejected Quirrell without hesitation and left him there.

He could slowly give himself a headache over it.

The moment he returned to his office, the ring in his pocket impatiently spoke up.

"So this is my original body? How utterly pathetic," Voldemort said disdainfully.

Tver took out the ring and toyed with it in his hand.

"By the way, can you sense each other?"

"Why not remove the shielding spell on the ring and find out?" Voldemort urged.

"So that means you can, then?" Tver chuckled.

"...I should've known better than to split my soul and make Horcruxes. It feels like my intelligence has dropped quite a bit."

Resigned, Voldemort continued, "We're more like separated hands and feet. Unless we're fairly close to each other, or one of us is destroyed, only the original body can actively communicate with a Horcrux."

"Then can you sense the soul inside a certain child?"

"What? A child?" Voldemort immediately grew anxious. "Which child has a piece of my soul? Doesn't that mean I can be resurrected?!"

It seemed the soul fragment inside Harry was hidden quite well. Tver wondered whether the magic Harry's mother had left behind was at work.

Though it truly was remarkable magic.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't just stop talking, Tver! Tell me already!"

Tver put the ring away, and the noisy voice instantly vanished.

"Good night."