Even with the Marauder's Map, tracking down Wormtail was no easy task.
There weren't actually that many people in the castle, but once they were all displayed on the map, it felt overwhelming. Names of every kind moved densely across the parchment. During class time, everyone was packed into classrooms. Once lessons ended, the common rooms and corridors were still crowded with students.
On top of that, after so many years, parts of the castle had changed slightly. There were even areas Lupin and the others had never reached back then.
Places like that might seem insignificant to ordinary people, but to Peter, a little rat, they could feel more spacious than the Weasley house. Well, relatively speaking.
At the very least, Tver knew the map didn't show the Chamber of Secrets, nor the underground chamber where the Philosopher's Stone had once been hidden in first year.
That meant there were still many concealed locations within the castle, some of which even Tver himself might not know about.
If a location didn't exist on the map, then naturally, no name would appear there either.
So for the time being, finding Peter's name wasn't something they could accomplish quickly.
The students, however, were the ones truly suffering.
Professor Fawley had a long-standing habit of shifting into theory-heavy lessons as finals approached, and the students were already used to it.
After all, the dueling tournament alone was enough to keep them talking for the rest of the term.
The problem was that Professor Lupin had started to seem distracted in class as well.
They had finally encountered a second excellent Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, only for him to pick up the same bad habits as Professor Fawley.
Worse still, Professor Lupin had mentioned that once the school year ended, he wouldn't stay on like Professor Fawley, but would instead pursue his own new goals.
That alone made the classes feel dull.
The students didn't really mind end-of-term revision. It happened every year.
What they couldn't accept was losing a teacher like Lupin. Next year, they'd be back to opening blind boxes again, hoping for the best.
As for those comments at the start of the year about sending Professor Lupin to Azkaban…
What? We've done too many practice problems. Our heads are spinning. We can't remember a thing.
Fortunately, their attention was soon pulled elsewhere.
The final Quidditch match of the year was about to begin, the most important match since the dueling tournament.
Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
This match would decide the winner of this year's Quidditch Cup.
Even Draco temporarily put aside his Patronus training, which had finally started to show results. Most of the time he managed to squeeze out from his mountain of homework went straight into Quidditch practice.
In Tver's view, even if Draco's natural talent for Quidditch was higher than his own, he still fell short compared to Harry. Not only was Harry slightly more gifted, he also had an extra year of training and match experience.
Even their broomsticks weren't on the same level. Harry's was clearly better.
So, to avoid putting too much pressure on Draco, Tver didn't go to watch the match. Instead, he stayed behind with Lupin to study the Marauder's Map.
More accurately, Lupin had tracked him down, leaving him stuck in the office with no way out.
"Maybe we could add a search spell to the map," Tver said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Something that automatically looks up any name you want to find."
Lupin kept his eyes on the map and replied without looking up.
"Why do you always come up with ways to be lazy?"
Tver lifted his head, looking entirely unbothered.
"Laziness is the true source of magical progress. Only by thinking about how to make magic more convenient for everyday life do we gain the motivation to expand it."
Lupin finally pulled his eyes away from the map, looking helpless.
"...I actually don't know how to argue with that."
"Knock, knock."
A cautious knock suddenly came from the door.
Lucius Malfoy.
Through his sensory magic, Tver immediately identified the visitor.
But shouldn't he be at the pitch, watching his son's match?
Curious, Tver called out,
"Come in."
Lupin, understanding the hint, quickly folded away the parchment.
"Mischief managed."
The faintly ingratiating smile on Lucius's face froze the moment he saw Lupin, then was swiftly replaced by his usual aristocratic aloofness.
"I didn't realize you had company. Perhaps I should come back after the match."
"No need. We're finished here."
Lupin picked up the parchment. He didn't even finish the pumpkin juice in his cup before standing and giving Tver a brief nod, then turning to leave the office.
Even though he understood why Tver was trying to draw Lucius in, Lupin still couldn't bring himself to sit and chat pleasantly with a former enemy.
Especially when so many of his friends—James, the Longbottoms, and others—had suffered at the hands of the Death Eaters.
Lucius made no comment.
Ever since learning that Tver had stayed at Hogwarts and was in frequent contact with Dumbledore, he had grown increasingly uneasy the more he thought about it.
This was someone with grand ambitions.
So he sat properly, not daring to relax, until Tver glanced regretfully at Lupin's abandoned cup and poured Lucius a cup of tea. Only then did Lucius come back to himself.
"Thank you very much," he said, accepting the cup with both hands.
Tver watched with amusement as he took a careful sip.
Lucius wasn't actually afraid of him. In truth, even in front of Voldemort, Lucius could maintain a measure of composure.
And Tver had never shown him anything remotely brutal. There was no real reason to be afraid.
More likely, Lucius had imagined something on his own and thoroughly demonized him in his head.
"Alright," Tver said. "You skipped a perfectly good match to come here. What's the matter? Draco was really hoping you'd watch him play."
Tver could already picture Draco's aggrieved expression, trying desperately to hide his disappointment when he realized neither he nor his father had shown up.
Lucius swallowed the tea in his mouth before looking at Tver with a probing expression.
"Well, you asked me earlier to get in touch with some pure-blood families, didn't you?"
Tver nodded.
He had already handed that part off to Cynthia and Marvolio. The list of names was still too short to even interest Marvolio in making any arrests.
"They're willing to follow you," Lucius continued. "So they'd like to hold a ceremony to show their respect, and to celebrate standing on the same side as you."
"A ceremony?" Tver asked, his tone faintly odd.
"That's right. Isn't the Quidditch World Cup this summer? We plan to attend the matches, and once the tournament ends, hold a grand parade."
A spark of excitement finally appeared on Lucius's face, growing more intense by the second.
"In front of wizards from all over the world, we'll let the magical community feel our presence. Even if our business with Muggles is accidentally exposed in the future, it'll make the Ministry think twice."
"It sounds more like you're reminiscing about past glory," Tver said coldly, lifting his gaze.
At the word "past," Lucius couldn't help but shudder, as if he'd been dragged straight back into winter.
A chill ran through his entire body.
...
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