Two Diametrically Opposed Professors

Hagrid's hut.

After the match, Harry brought Hermione and Ron here for afternoon tea with Hagrid.

And, of course, to "incidentally" discuss what they had discovered.

"Professor Fawley just caught me!" Hermione said, still shaken.

Hagrid handed her a cup of strong tea before asking in confusion, "What did Fawley catch?"

"He caught Hermione casting a spell on Snape," Ron answered as if it were obvious. "But why didn't the professor report you?"

Hermione held her teacup and pondered, but Hagrid grew anxious.

"Why would Hermione cast a spell on Snape? How could you dare treat a professor like that?" He looked at them worriedly.

He had not even noticed that Hermione had disappeared for a little while, let alone what had happened in the teachers' stands.

"Harry's broom was acting strange because Snape was casting a spell on it," Ron said, casually picking up a rock cake. "I saw him chanting."

"Nonsense! By your logic, if Professor Fawley could notice Hermione casting a spell, then he definitely would have noticed Snape casting one too!" Hagrid set down the teapot heavily.

Hermione looked deeply conflicted. Both hands gripped her teacup tightly, as though she wanted to crush it, her fingers turning white from the force.

"Then... what if Professor Fawley and Snape are working together?"

"Impossible!" Harry immediately retorted. "Professor Fawley is such a good person. He and Snape are complete opposites—how could they possibly be in cahoots?"

Hermione's loosened hand lightly touched the pocket of her robes, where the handkerchief the professor had given her was kept.

She did not want to make baseless assumptions about the professor either.

"But think about it. We ran into Professor Fawley on the fourth floor before, and on Halloween, Snape also tried to get past that Three-Headed Dog."

"Wait, how do you know about the guard on the fourth floor?"

"The guard?"

"That was what I lent Dumbledore to guard—"

"To guard what?" Harry asked eagerly.

"That has nothing to do with you!"

"But Professor Fawley and Snape want to steal that thing!"

"Impossible. If Fawley were involved, why would he let Hermione disrupt Snape's spell?"

Ron rubbed his chin, while his other hand quietly put the rock cake back. The thing had nearly cracked his teeth.

"Could it be that Professor Fawley is a good person and doesn't want Harry to get hurt, but still wants to steal that thing?"

Hagrid shook his head furiously.

"Impossible. No good person would ever want to steal Nicolas Flamel's—"

Harry's eyes lit up.

"Aha! So that thing belongs to Nicolas Flamel, right?"

Hagrid flew into a rage and threw the three of them out of the hut. He decided to lock himself inside and sulk for the rest of the day!

After leaving the hut, Hermione was still troubled by the matter of Professor Fawley.

"No, I have to ask the professor myself!"

Ron and Harry hurriedly stopped her.

"Are you crazy?"

"Are you going to ask the professor, 'Excuse me, are you planning to go to the fourth floor and steal something?'"

Ron mimicked Hermione's questioning posture, finally dispelling her impulse.

"But if the professor really does want to steal that thing, what should we do?" Hermione asked helplessly.

Ron shrugged indifferently. "Maybe we can help the professor out."

Hermione was immediately left speechless, then burst out laughing.

"Professor Fawley is only a suspect. Ron plays wizard chess with the professor every day, doesn't he? You could test him," Harry suddenly suggested.

Ron immediately shook his head and waved his hands.

"Forget it. I finally got a chance to receive the professor's guidance. I don't want to ruin it over a suspicion."

"Besides, try sitting in front of the professor for an hour. His eyes seem to see right through your heart!"

"I wouldn't dare ask something like that."

"George and the others say it's because the professor is so knowledgeable that he can tell what I'm thinking at a glance, but I still feel like something's off."

Just imagining the scene made him shudder, his face full of refusal.

Harry had never experienced anything like that, but he thought of what it was like facing Snape and immediately put himself in Ron's place.

"Then forget it. Let's investigate Nicolas Flamel first. Once we know what's hidden there, it won't be too late to decide."

The other two breathed a sigh of relief. They did not want to doubt Professor Fawley either.

"Wait, we've just assumed that Snape wants to steal something, haven't we?" Hermione spotted the blind spot.

Thinking of Snape's blatant favoritism toward him, Harry said angrily:

"Compared to Professor Fawley, I'd believe Snape was up to no good no matter what he did!"

Meanwhile, Tver had no idea he had inherited Snape's talent for taking the blame. Of course, even if he had known, he would have only laughed it off.

Because he really was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone.

Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Professor, is my magical talent really that poor?" Neville asked tearfully.

They were practicing stable magical output, but after failing for the tenth time, the confidence Neville had only just managed to build began to crumble.

In previous lessons, Tver had helped Neville learn to channel his magic and successfully cast spells.

But there was still another problem. When using spells with sustained effects, such as the Hover Charm, Neville's magical output would unconsciously cut off after continuing for a while.

It was a little like the Magic Dot Map Tver had made—the connection between the badges and the map would suddenly break.

That piqued his interest.

"Don't lose heart. I can assure you that your magical talent is absolutely no worse than that of any student in this castle."

"It's just that your foundation isn't solid enough, and you need more practice. You need to be mentally prepared to spend twice as much time practicing as the others."

Only then did Neville sniffle and hold back the tears that were about to fall.

"I... I'm not afraid of practicing longer than everyone else. It's just... I just feel like I'm wasting your time and teaching."

"How could you be? It's a teacher's duty to teach their students."

"Come on, raise your wand again. This time, make your magical output slower. It's better to slow down than to let yourself stop channeling."

Neville was deeply moved, and the tears he had just managed to stop spilled out again.

Right then, he had only one thought—If I can, I want to be the Professor's student for the rest of my life!

He decisively wiped away his tears, pressing his lips tightly together. His round little face was filled with determination.

I can't cry anymore, and I can't disappoint the Professor again!

He pointed his wand at the small ball on the ground.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The little ball slowly rose into the air and floated before Neville.

"Very good. Your incantation is already much better than most of your classmates'. Keep the ball suspended in the air, but don't stop channeling magic."

Neville puffed out his cheeks and stared fixedly at the ball. Seeing it wobble slightly, he hurriedly focused even harder on his magical output.

So completely absorbed was he that he did not realize this attempt had lasted longer than any before it, so long that he only came back to his senses when his magic was nearly depleted.

Sweat beaded on his forehead from the exhaustion of his magic, but Neville's eyes were filled with joy.

"Professor! I finally did it!"

Tears filled his eyes again.

No, I promised I wouldn't cry, Neville thought, blinking desperately as he tried to force the tears back.

Tver's expression turned a little strange. He applauded while asking tentatively:

"Could you fail one more time?"

Neville: [•_•?]