The Malfoy family affair was finally nearing its end, but before that, Tver still had to proctor the students' final exams.
He had already witnessed plenty of cheating attempts last year, and the students were well aware of his anti-cheating measures. This time, they simply gave up on the idea altogether. The little imp keeping watch over them was not someone to mess with.
At Tver's suggestion, all students would take their exams according to O.W.L. standards: written tests in the morning, practical exams in the afternoon. Excluding the fifth and seventh years, he would only need five days to finish this last task of the school year.
The written portion was, of course, provided by their former, beloved Professor Lockhart. Tver hadn't even bothered removing his name from the exam papers. After all, it was probably the last gift he had left for the students—and likely his final signature in this world. Twenty years in Azkaban was, in everyone's eyes, practically a death sentence.
For the practical exams, the first and second years naturally faced Hogwarts' now-traditional light-ball game, only in an upgraded version that incorporated quiz questions.
What Tver hadn't expected was how much pressure the students felt during the finals. The moment they realized they had gotten an answer wrong, some showed clear signs of emotional collapse. Even the usually confident Draco Malfoy turned bright red and completely flustered over one incorrect answer.
Tver had no choice but to extend the answering time a bit, hoping to ease their nerves. After all, this was a practical exam—answering questions wasn't supposed to be the main focus.
For third years and above, the exam was a real battle. Much to their disappointment, Tver chose to take it easy this year and didn't personally participate as he had last year. Every spare moment recently had gone into studying the Chamber of Secrets' door—especially at night, when he'd burned through countless hours of sleep. His dark circles had reached a new record since arriving at Hogwarts, so he decided to rest a little during the exams.
Instead, he sent out a team of chain-hammer statues to test each group.
Yes, this year's practical exam would be done in teams, with scores divided into team scores and individual scores. If a team scored poorly, no individual score would be very high. But even if a team score was excellent, personal scores wouldn't necessarily be the same.
Their grades were based on both teamwork and individual performance. The final result would be the sum of the two.
To Tver's pleasant surprise, after a full year of training, quite a few teams were now able to defeat the chain-hammer statues. According to his settings, doing so didn't require overwhelming offensive power. The key was coordination—smooth, accurate teamwork with no mistakes. That was far more difficult than simply boosting attack power.
Thankfully, their teamwork had been sharpened during the basilisk training session, raising their abilities enough to overcome the statues. Even those who still couldn't defeat them performed far better than before.
When scoring, Tver even had to consider how fast a team managed to defeat a statue. Given another year, he was sure they'd create an entire speedrun ranking board.
In his good mood, he raised everyone's practical scores considerably. At least their summer report cards would bring them some joy. Of course, those with poor theoretical performance would still have heavier summer homework than the rest.
Regardless, one week later, he finally wrapped up all his teaching duties and officially entered leisure mode.
His only remaining annoyance was that door in the Chamber of Secrets—now more than halfway restored. Over the past weeks, he had only managed to barely sort out the will lines inside it, confirming that both the source and endpoint were rooted in the door itself. As for why, he still hadn't figured it out.
Deep in thought, Tver headed toward the Great Hall. Along the way, he passed many young wizards hurrying there for the upcoming year-end feast, eagerly awaiting the announcement of the House Cup.
"Did you hear? The ghosts of Ravenclaw and Slytherin have vanished!"
"I don't think that's strange at all. Those two Houses always have so much on their minds—anything could happen. Not like us Gryffindors, so pure and innocent!" a young lion declared, chin tilted proudly.
"…I feel like 'innocent' isn't the right word," his friend muttered.
"But if the Bloody Baron is gone, what about Peeves? It feels like no one in the castle can stop him now!"
"Professor Flitwick should be able to. Last time Peeves was causing trouble in the Trophy Room, Filch threatened to call Professor Fawley."
Little did they know, Professor Fawley was walking right behind them, listening to every word.
"Professor, are you going to the banquet too?"
A playful voice popped out of nowhere.
It was Luna Lovegood.
Tver's thoughts snapped back at her sudden appearance.
The two Gryffindors were startled as well. With awkward expressions, they muttered, "Loony."
"If you don't know how to behave, I can write to your parents over the summer and let them teach you some manners before you return to Hogwarts."
Tver looked at them without a hint of expression.
Both boys immediately turned pale.
"Apologize."
"We're sorry!" *2
Once they blurted it out, they bolted down the corridor.
It was their first time seeing Professor Fawley so stern—he looked like Snape had possessed him.
"Actually, I'm used to it," Luna said, holding a stack of papers. She shook her head lightly, looking almost like a little elf.
"That's not a good habit," Tver said, not pushing the topic further. "What do you have there?"
"Some notices. My shoes seem to wander off on their own."
Luna showed him the flyers and pointed to the wall, which was already covered with several copies.
"Wander off?" Tver looked down at her bare feet, puzzled.
This was clearly student mischief—and depending on how you saw it, it bordered on bullying.
"Yes," Luna said with complete certainty. "Some things are here, or there, waiting for me to find them."
"Even if I don't know where they are now, I somehow run into them bit by bit."
She smiled softly, her eyes as steady as her voice.
She always spoke in a dreamy, mysterious way, yet Tver couldn't shake the sense that her words carried meaning.
Just like when he had met her earlier in the third-floor corridor.
"I can use magic to find your shoes easily."
Tver pulled out his wand, intending to help her this once.
"No," Luna gently stopped him. "I think I've already found them."
They had just walked past a junction. Around the corner, a pair of shoes hung from the arm of a statue.
Clearly, they were hers.
That odd feeling crept over Tver again. Had she known she would find them here? Or had she simply seen through her classmates' prank all along?