Roger Davies was the only one hanging upside down. While the other students merely felt uncomfortable, he was genuinely suffering.
Seeing his face flushed red from the blood rushing to his head, Tver quickly used a standard Levitation Charm to lower them all. He'd almost landed himself in Azkaban for murdering students...
After giving them a moment to recover, Tver casually dispelled the surrounding enchantments.
"I believe you've now experienced what a real battle feels like. Tell me your thoughts."
Still seated on the desk, he watched as the students exchanged uneasy glances. When no one spoke, he decided to call on someone directly.
"Davies, I imagine you've learned something valuable. Care to share it with your classmates?"
Davies's neck shrank instantly at the sound of his name, his already flushed face paling. He glanced around at the expectant stares and, realizing no one would speak for him, stammered out, "Don't just stand there like an idiot?"
"Exactly!" Tver nodded in approval. "No matter how fast a spell travels, its path is straight—or at least, most of the time. That means with proper movement, you can dodge the majority of curses. Of course, if you're dumb enough to run right into one, not even Headmaster Dumbledore could save you."
The students burst into laughter.
"But there's another problem here. Has anyone thought of it?" Tver asked, waiting until the laughter subsided.
George started to speak, but Fred clamped a hand over his mouth. "Raise your hand, you idiot!"
Then, under George's incredulous stare, Fred raised his own hand.
After Tver gave him a nod, he spoke up confidently. "Professor, I think if we stepped on a trap while moving, it'd be even worse than standing still."
Tver gave a small, approving clap. "Correct. Battlefields are rarely simple. While maneuvering, you must watch your opponent as well as your own footing."
"Five points to Gryffindor. Looks like you two have some experience with this."
Fred and George lifted their heads proudly as their classmates chuckled.
Just then, the bell rang. For the first time, the students found it unbearable—they wanted to hear more of Fawley's combat tips.
How cool was that!
Adolescents brimmed with the urge to prove themselves, itching to master those techniques right away—imagining themselves in place of Professor Fawley, fighting against a crowd.
"Alright, today you've had a rough introduction to the four essentials of combat: positioning, casting speed, defense, and teamwork."
"But don't worry—we have a whole year to work on these. A year from now, we'll have another battle to test what you've learned."
The students' fighting spirit roared to life.
Crush Hogwarts! Capture Tver!
Tver was satisfied with their enthusiasm, though he couldn't help wondering why it felt like horns were sprouting from his head.
"First, positioning. Your homework is to think about how to move effectively—and how to disrupt your opponent's movement."
"The second task is for those willing to think harder. A clever idea will earn you a little special reward." He gave them a perfect professor's smile, sparking even more anticipation.
Several of the studious types exchanged glances, eyes burning hotter than fire.
Professor Fawley's reward—they would claim it.
"So, all you need to do is write a paper on your ideas. There's no word limit—even just a few words are fine. But remember, it must be your own thoughts."
Of course, the lack of a word limit was the trickiest part. None of the students would dare submit only a few words. They'd constantly worry their essay wasn't long enough, and in the end, write more and more.
Tver clapped his hands, breaking through their reluctant mood.
"Alright, that's the end of class. Off you go, don't be late for your next lesson."
At Hogwarts, the schedule was tight, and the next class was Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration. The students would rather be hung upside down than risk arriving late for that.
But Tver was free.
He only had one class to teach today; the rest of the day was his own. With Wizard Chess Fundamentals tucked under his arm, he strolled leisurely through the quiet castle toward the library.
The halls were much calmer with students in lessons, only the occasional sound of spellcasting echoing from classrooms.
The library, too, was nearly empty. Few students were free of classes on the first day, and fewer still would spend that freedom here.
He didn't bother with more books on wizard chess. With Hogwarts' collections stretching back over a thousand years, it felt like a waste.
Instead, he picked out a volume titled Techniques of Spellcasting.
A quick glance through showed it was simple enough, filled with practical tips for casting—much like what he had just taught in class. The only unusual thing about it was its age: written eight hundred years ago.
Back then, Hogwarts itself had only stood for two centuries. Such a book would normally be kept locked away in the archives. If he weren't a professor, he doubted he'd have gotten his hands on it.
Settling into a corner by the window, Tver opened the book written in Ancient Runes.
Hogwarts books truly were something else.
Within its pages, he found scattered mentions of the four elements. The author was an avid believer in the theory, but after years of fruitless research, could only compile an introductory-level Spellcasting Techniques based on his own understanding.
It touched on every aspect of the four elements, though only at a surface level. Still, it offered one valuable idea:
Mastery of the four elements didn't rely on ancient magic. It transcended magic itself, reaching closer to the essence of magical power.
Regardless of casting method—whether ancient incantations, blood magic, or the many practices of the time—all were rooted in the four elements.
Tver wasn't sure if that extended to modern spellcasting, but the thought eased him. He had worried that studying the elements would drag him into ancient magic.
And ancient magic had fallen into decline for good reason—it was hard to learn and even harder to master.
Even a scholar who had devoted decades to it might not manage more than ten ancient spells. It was like a Muggle trying to learn magic from textbooks—such methods drastically limited how many could become wizards.
In those times, only the exceptionally gifted could wield magic.
So while ancient magic might carry slightly greater force, Tver had no desire to learn it. His own strength made its marginal boost unnecessary; modern spells could achieve the same results.
He spent the afternoon reading through the book and scouring the shelves for more but found nothing else of real value.
By the time dinner neared, he left the library and headed for the Great Hall.
The students' attitude toward him had completely reversed.
"Good afternoon, Professor Fawley!"
"Hello!"
Another student he didn't even know greeted him. Tver hid his confusion, nodding and smiling politely.
This morning they'd been whispering and pointing. By afternoon, they were all warmth and courtesy?
At some point, Professor Flitwick appeared, giving him a light pat on the side.
"Tver, I hear you hung an entire class upside down and gave them a thrashing?"