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

At Hagrid's hut, after the match, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were having afternoon tea, "coincidentally" discussing their recent discoveries.

"I was just caught by Professor Fawley!" Hermione exclaimed, still visibly shaken.

Hagrid, confused, handed her a cup of strong tea. "Caught doing what, Hermione?"

Ron answered matter-of-factly, "Caught Hermione casting a spell on Snape. But why didn't the professor report you?"

Hermione pondered this as she held her teacup, while Hagrid grew anxious. "Why would you cast a spell on Snape, Hermione? How could you do such a thing to a professor?" His worry was evident; he hadn't noticed Hermione's absence earlier, nor was he aware of what had transpired on the staff stands.

"Snape was casting spells on Harry's broom," Ron interjected, taking a bite of a rock cake. "I saw him muttering incantations."

"Nonsense," Hagrid scoffed. "If Professor Fawley noticed Hermione casting a spell, he surely would've seen Snape doing the same!" He slammed the teapot down a bit harder than intended.

Hermone looked conflicted, gripping her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"What if... Professor Fawley is working with Snape?" she speculated, her voice tentative.

"Impossible!" Harry countered immediately. "Professor Fawley is kind, and Snape is... well, the opposite. How could they be conspiring?"

Hermione loosened her grip on the teacup and absentmindedly touched the pocket of her robe, feeling the handkerchief Professor Fawley had given her. She didn't want to suspect the professor without cause.

"But remember," Hermione continued, "we saw Professor Fawley near the third-floor corridor before, and Snape tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween."

"Wait, how do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid interjected.

"Fluffy?"

"The very one I lent to Dumbledore to guard—"

"Guard what?" Harry pressed, eager for answers.

"That's none of your business!"

Harry persisted. "But if Professor Fawley and Snape wanted to steal whatever it's guarding..."

Hagrid shook his head, bewildered. "It doesn't add up. If Fawley was in cahoots with Snape, why would he allow Hermione to interfere with Snape's spell?" 

Ron rubbed his chin and discreetly set the rock cake back down. That thing nearly broke his teeth.

"Is it possible that Professor Fawley is a good person who doesn't want to harm Harry but still wants to steal that thing?" Hermione pondered aloud.

Hagrid shook his head vehemently. "No way, no good person would want to steal from Nicolas Flamel's..."

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh, so that thing belongs to Nicolas Flamel, right?"

At this revelation, Hagrid erupted in anger, chasing the trio out of his hut. He decided to lock himself in and sulk for the rest of the day.

Outside the hut, Hermione was still grappling with the matter concerning Professor Fawley. "No, I have to go ask him in person!"

Ron and Harry quickly intervened. "Are you crazy? Are you really going to ask the professor if he plans to steal something from the third floor?" Ron mimicked Hermione's inquisitive stance, trying to dissuade her from her impulsive plan.

"But what if the professor really is planning to steal that thing? What do we do?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with helplessness.

Ron shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe we could help the professor in some way," he joked.

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at Ron's suggestion. "Professor Fawley is just a suspect, Ron. Besides, don't you play Wizard's Chess with him every day? You could subtly probe him!" Harry suddenly chimed in.

Ron immediately shook his head. "Forget it. I finally have a chance to learn from the professor. I don't want to ruin it with suspicion. And sitting with him for an hour... it feels like he can read your mind! I wouldn't dare ask such a thing. Even though George says the professor's knowledge is vast enough to see through my thoughts at a glance, I still feel uneasy about it."

He shivered at the thought, his expression filled with reluctance.

Harry, who hadn't faced such a situation, imagined himself in Ron's shoes, perhaps facing someone like Snape. "Well, let's forget about it. We'll investigate Nicolas Flamel first. Once we know what's hidden there, we can decide what to do later."

The others breathed a sigh of relief; they didn't want to confront Professor Fawley either.

"Wait, did we just assume Snape wants to steal something?" Hermione suddenly realized a blind spot in their assumptions.

Reflecting on Snape's harsh treatment of him, Harry exclaimed, "Compared to Professor Fawley, I'd believe Snape is up to anything!"

...

In the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, a tense moment unfolded between Professor Tver and Neville, who was on the verge of tears.

"Professor, am I really bad at magic?" Neville asked, his voice wavering as he struggled with the spell.

Tver observed Neville's frustration. They had been working on stable magical output, but after his tenth failure, Neville's confidence was wavering. In previous lessons, Tver had helped Neville learn how to channel his magic effectively, casting spells like "Wingardium Leviosa." However, Neville often struggled with maintaining a steady flow of magic, leading to abrupt interruptions similar to a badge losing connection with a map—a problem that intrigued Tver.

"Don't lose heart," Tver reassured him. "Your magical talent is definitely not less than any other student here."

"It's just that your foundation needs strengthening. You'll need to practice twice as much as your classmates," he added.

Neville sniffled, trying to hold back tears. "I... I'm not afraid of extra practice. I just feel like I'm wasting your time and effort."

"How could you be wasting my time? It's a teacher's duty to guide their students," Tver responded warmly. "Raise your wand again. This time, try to slow down your magical output. It's better to go slow than to stop. Try maintaining a continuous stream of magic."

Encouraged, Neville wiped his tears, his face set with determination. He pointed his wand at a small ball on the ground.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The ball lifted off the ground, hovering unsteadily in front of Neville. He concentrated hard, trying to keep the ball in the air and his magic flowing.

"Very good, your control is better than most. Keep the ball hovering, but keep your magic steady," Tver encouraged.

Neville focused intently, managing to keep the spell going longer than he had before. When his magical strength finally waned, he was sweaty but elated.

"Professor! I did it!"

Tver clapped, his expression mixed with a hint of mischief. "Can you fail one more time?"

Neville: [・_・?]