Harry Potter: Is It Normal for a Hogwarts Professor to Be a Dark Lord?

Tver looked at the chessboard, realizing it was leading him into a dead-end. Surprisingly, it was the lecturer who seemed distracted rather than the student.

"Of course, it's still quite challenging for you at this stage. You may opt for the essential spells to focus on, along with some practical combat training. You still have a year to prepare adequately."

Offering some comfort to Percy, whose frown deepened, they prepared for the next round.

Suddenly, Tver had a thought. The detection spell he'd set up on the third-floor corridor had been triggered.

Since its inception, it was the first time he'd felt the feedback from his detection spell. Could it be one of those nocturnal young wizards again?

Without revealing his suspicions, he continued playing chess with Percy. However, Cedric and the others keenly felt the difference in treatment.

With Percy around, the professor's responses to their queries became dismissive, with remarks like, "The answers are in the textbooks; make sure to read them thoroughly," or "Similar content was covered during private lessons before; use your imagination, it won't strain your brain much."

But when facing Percy, the professor would say, "If you're interested, I'll have training dummies ready for you. They'll only be available for a month."

Isn't that a bit too utilitarian?

Exchanging a glance, they both silently made a resolution—they must enhance their wizarding chess skills to become tools for the professor!

At five minutes to ten, Tver promptly wrapped up the session. After Percy and the others left the classroom, he quietly ascended to the third floor.

Approaching curfew, there were sporadic rushes of young wizards hurrying by.

At the second-floor staircase, Filch was also holding a lantern, with a cat by his feet. Sometimes he eyed the young wizards warily, and other times he stared down at an old pocket watch, eagerly awaiting curfew.

But the third floor remained off-limits; even if a young wizard lingered inadvertently, they would be reminded and pulled away by their companions.

Tver glanced at the doorway. Someone had cast a detection spell on this door too, but it was rudimentary, almost haphazardly arranged.

With a casual wave, he nullified it and sensed the activity inside.

There was music but no significant magical fluctuations.

Unless the entering wizard remained completely still, admiring the sleeping posture of the three-headed dog, it was impossible not to be noticed by him. So he confidently pushed the door open.

Indeed, the wizard inside was admiring the three-headed dog's sleeping posture without a hint of movement.

"You finally arrived, Tver."

Turning around, Quirrell smirked at him self-satisfyingly.

Seeing through the Disillusionment Charm, Tver also revealed himself, gazing at Quirrell with a puzzled expression as if he didn't recognize him anymore.

"How did you know it was me?"

"It's easy to guess, isn't it? New professor, powerful, " Quirrell's expression suddenly turned sinister, "even instructing students to attack me! Who else but you?"(Weasley twins pranks)

Tver's eyes were full of speechlessness, not expecting Quirrell to be so petty.

"Do you believe it was an accident?"

"I...!" Quirrell gritted his teeth in anger, but the next moment, he forced out an ugly smile, "Never mind, your identity is already exposed. We are now on the same starting line."

This indeed surprised Tver, the longer he concealed it, the more advantageous it was for him. He just didn't expect Quirrell to suddenly become clever and deceive him over.

Of course, he preferred to believe it was Voldemort's tactic. But fortunately, his and Voldemort's goals were temporarily aligned.

"Don't be so hostile. Our goals are the same. Why can't we be a bit more friendly?"

Quirrell chuckled but didn't continue mocking Tver. He knew both sides needed to cooperate to deceive Dumbledore and obtain the Philosopher's Stone.

"Well then, would my dear friend be willing to take me downstairs for a look?"

"Delighted."

With some pretense, Tver led him downstairs, familiarly arriving at the chessboard for the third time.

"Continue, why aren't you moving forward?!" Quirrell eagerly asked.

Tver shrugged, "To unlock the door ahead, we need to win this game. This chessboard isn't simple; at least, I haven't been able to pass it yet."

Even if he could pass, Tver wouldn't do it. He still needed Quirrell to distract Dumbledore and obtain the Philosopher's Stone!

Watching Quirrell pacing angrily, he encouraged, "Why not try this chessboard and see if I'm lying?"

Quirrell originally wanted to retort, but suddenly, a voice echoed in his mind.

"Go up and try."

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

"...I don't either!"

Voldemort roared in anger and fell silent.

Quirrell shrank his neck, muttering softly, "You don't even know how to play, yet you want me to go up there?"

Tver thought Quirrell might be hatching some sinister plan, fearing he might resort to violence and attract professors like Dumbledore.

"Forget it unless you can get the chess manual Professor McGonagall assigned. Otherwise, we'll have to find a way to win this game."

After hesitating for a while, Quirrell eventually went up to try. The rules were still fresh in his mind, but he lost even faster than Tver did initially.

"The front part was crafted by Professors Sprout and Flitwick, while the subsequent stages were set by Snape and you, of course, with Dumbledore's input."

Quirrell nodded in agreement. He knew this when Dumbledore called him to set up the obstacles initially.

"Don't worry, my setup is straightforward. The crucial part is Dumbledore's magic. Any leads?"

"None!"

Bluntly rejecting Quirrell, Tver left him behind. He'd deal with this headache on his own. Back in his office, the ring in his pocket couldn't wait to speak.

"So, this is my original form? Quite pathetic," Voldemort sneered.

Tver took out the ring, examining it in his hand.

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

"Remove the shielding spell on the ring, and you'll find out," Voldemort goaded.

"So, there is a connection between you?" Tver chuckled lightly.

"...I should have known better than to split my soul and create Horcruxes. It feels like my intelligence has diminished significantly," resigned Voldemort continued, "We are more like separated limbs. Only when we're close or destroyed, the main body can communicate with the Horcrux."

"Do you sense any fragment of your soul in a certain child?"

"What? A child?" Voldemort grew anxious, "Which child still has my soul? Does that mean I can be resurrected?!"

It seems Harry's soul fragment is well hidden. Perhaps it's the magic left by his mother that's at work. That's indeed a remarkable spell.

"Hey, hey, don't stay silent, Tver! Tell me quickly!"

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

"Goodnight."