Tver was not surprised by Lupin's persistence.
Among the original group of four, James Potter was dead, Sirius Black had been thrown into Azkaban, and Peter Pettigrew had faked his own death, hiding away as a rat. Only Lupin remained.
He lived on in the open, despite being a werewolf, yet his situation was no better than that of his former companions.
Before coming to Hogwarts, there were no ordinary wizards left in this world willing to associate with a werewolf like him. To Lupin, all his friends were already gone.
That kind of loneliness hurt him far more than a life spent drifting from place to place.
That was why, once he noticed something strange about Sirius, he became desperate to uncover the truth. Ideally, he wanted to find evidence that could clear Sirius's name…
"Why don't you just ask Sirius directly?" Tver asked.
Lupin shook his head.
"I can't trust him yet, and he may not trust me either. If we meet now, the chances of a conflict are far greater than the chances of a calm conversation."
"And after the two incidents, I realized that Black clearly had opportunities to break into the castle, but he wasn't targeting Harry at all. Instead, he was trying to get into the Gryffindor common room—or more precisely, this dormitory."
"That means he's searching for something, not trying to hurt anyone."
"So I need to find it before anyone else does and figure out Black's true objective."
"If he was framed, then this could be the evidence to clear him."
"And if he had other intentions, then this will be proof of his guilt."
Tver understood.
Lupin's talent and insight were undeniable. Just from Sirius's actions and his understanding of him, he had almost pieced together the truth.
So…
"I don't even know what Sirius is looking for. Why are you dragging me into this?" Tver snapped.
"…"
With a helpless sigh, Lupin stood up from his chair.
"You're clearly capable. Can't you help me out?"
The problem was that what Sirius was searching for was Peter Pettigrew.
Tver had already scanned the entire area earlier and found no trace of that little rat.
Based on what he had "overheard" from Harry and the others, Peter had already found a way to escape from the student dormitory.
At this rate, even if they tore the place apart, they wouldn't uncover anything useful.
Lupin had come to the same conclusion.
"What is there in a student dormitory anyway? Books?" He gestured toward the textbooks casually scattered across the desk.
"Meow~"
A large ginger cat suddenly darted inside. Its slightly chubby body did nothing to slow it down, and it moved with surprising agility. The moment it spotted Tver and Lupin in the dormitory, it bolted right back out again.
"Pets?" Lupin murmured, sensing that he might finally be on the right track.
From that point on, during the continued search, he deliberately shifted his focus to the pets kept in the dormitory building.
Just as Tver had predicted, neither Black nor Peter was among them. After an entire night of searching, they came up empty-handed.
...
That didn't stop the castle's gossip from shifting the very next day. The focus moved from the dueling competition, to Quidditch, and finally settled squarely on Sirius Black.
Because of this failed attack, security throughout the castle was immediately tightened. Dementors were, of course, forbidden from entering the school, so every moving statue and suit of armor inside the castle was pressed into service as part of the patrol.
Anyone acting suspicious would be detained on the spot until a nearby professor arrived.
Black was never caught, but several sneaky couples meeting in secret were.
Compared to them, though, the one who truly suffered was Neville.
Professor McGonagall was furious with him. He was banned from visiting Hogsmeade, and no one was allowed to tell him the common room password, meaning he had to wait outside until someone brought him in.
As if that weren't enough, once his grandmother heard about it, she sent him a Howler.
Now, miserable and wronged, Neville not only had to endure his classmates' ridicule, but also serve detention.
Fortunately, Tver took the task upon himself and arranged for Neville to serve detention alongside Draco, grading exam papers.
Even so, compared to Draco, Neville still lagged far behind in theoretical studies, no matter how long Tver had been teaching him.
Often, by the time Draco had fully worked through an entire paper, Neville had barely managed to understand half the questions.
Still, that didn't really matter. Draco had already proven that this kind of detention, combining punishment with instruction, produced excellent results.
After a single weekend of studying, Draco didn't even wait for Tver to suggest it. He took the initiative to ask for the detention to be extended so he could grade even more papers.
When he saw Neville, he was clearly displeased.
Not because he had to serve detention with Neville, but because some of the papers had been taken away from him.
Luckily, all papers from the same year level were identical. Grading forty versus thirty only made a slight difference in familiarity.
"Professor, who do you think we'll be facing in the third-year final?" Draco asked casually, interest lighting up his voice as he continued grading.
Across from him, Tver was leisurely reading a book and didn't even look up.
"You've only cleared the second round. You're already sure you'll make it to the final?"
"That's a given. I'm already prepared to win the championship," Draco said confidently, lifting his chin as his quill paused midair.
Recently, he'd discovered the most effective way to use Goyle and Crabbe in matches. Ironically, the idea came from watching Potter's performance in the first round.
Use Goyle and Crabbe as shields.
Forget about positioning them as support or disruption. None of that mattered anymore.
Just put the two of them up front and have them continuously cast the Shield Charm to block incoming spells.
Meanwhile, Draco would wait for openings and strike when the moment was right. The tactic played perfectly to his strengths and allowed him to defeat his second-round opponents with ease.
It was nothing like the first round, where those two idiots, Goyle and Crabbe, dragged him into a drawn-out struggle and cost him a bye.
Tver recalled that scene and couldn't help smiling wryly. He lifted his head from the book and looked at Draco.
"Your entire offensive strategy depends on you. If you run into opponents who are good at defense, they won't even need to fight back. They can just drag things out until your magic and stamina are gone."
Draco curled his lips.
"But even without this tactic, the team's offense has always relied on me."
"Well, you could try other strategies," Tver said lightly. "Don't underestimate Goyle and Crabbe."
"What kind of strategy?" Draco looked at him, eyes bright with interest.
If he had a choice, he didn't want to rely on such a desperate and extreme approach either.
"Before we talk tactics," Tver said, tapping the thick stack of papers in front of him, "you should deal with these first, Champion."