The next morning, Tver slept in for once—fortunately, he had no classes scheduled.
Last night, after a duel of Transfiguration that was childish yet ingenious, he had ultimately been defeated. Dumbledore had shamelessly pulled out the Elder Wand.
His power already outstripped Tver's, and with the wand's amplification, not even Tver's own teacher could have withstood him.
They had gone on talking until nearly dawn before Tver finally returned to rest. In truth, it was mostly Dumbledore instructing while Tver learned.
Transfiguration itself was simple enough. By seventh year, most students could handle three key techniques: the Switching Spell, the Vanishing Spell, and the Summoning Charm. Tver, of course, had long since mastered them.
But to wield Transfiguration with true finesse—to push it beyond ordinary charms and produce effects of greater power—required deeper study. Control of magical energy, for instance, could give transformed objects far greater flexibility. And layering spells atop transfigured forms could grant them the properties of charms themselves.
...
In these areas, Dumbledore outshone even his teacher.
Not that I'm saying my teacher wasn't good.
Tver consoled himself with that thought as he headed to the Great Hall for a meal.
By this hour, few students remained, but the moment he entered, all eyes turned to him.
Before long, curious young wizards crowded around, peppering him with questions about Durmstrang.
"Durmstrang requires crew cuts. Think you could handle that, Mr. Malfoy?"
"We wear fur cloaks and crimson robes—it depends on the weather."
"Yes, it's usually cold. But some hardy students go without cloaks."
"Here's a fun fact: Quidditch is global, so we've got teams too. They're not house-based though, just a few squads we form."
"Alright, everyone, that's enough questions. I still have classes to teach."
Only as the start of class drew near did Tver finally slip free of the crowd.
News that Professor Fawley was in the Great Hall answering questions about Durmstrang had spread quickly, drawing nearly every student without class to gather there. He didn't mind—it was a pleasant way to ease the fatigue from last night's studies.
...
"When's Professor Fawley getting here?"
"I heard he was mobbed in the Great Hall. Think he'll be late?"
"But we came early for a reason—what if we miss his roll-call spell?"
"I don't care about that. I've been practicing all morning just to duel him!"
The second-years buzzed with excitement about the upcoming lesson, their chatter charged with eagerness for the fight they were certain was coming.
After a whole day of anticipation, they had been waiting since morning. At lunch, they barely ate before hurrying off to the classroom to await him.
"The professor's here!"
The shout silenced the room in an instant. Every head snapped toward the doorway.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, the elegant Tver strode inside, carrying a paper bag.
He blinked in mild surprise to see the classroom already packed with expectant students. A quick glance confirmed it was indeed his classroom, and he stepped happily up to the lectern.
"Honestly, if the bell hadn't rung yet, I would've thought I was late."
The students laughed brightly at his words.
But roll call still had to be done. With a flick of his wand, names flared above each student's head.
Gasps rose around the room as the golden light from those names streamed into the parchment list in his hand.
"Very good," he glanced over the parchment. "I doubt anyone here is bold enough to skip my class."
Tver put the parchment away and met the eager stares below.
"Though most of you probably already know who I am, I'll still give a proper introduction. I am Tver Fawley, your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, and yes, I do come from Durmstrang. However, I expect you not to bring up my alma mater during lessons—that is a rule of this class."
"As for your first lesson, I imagine you already have an idea of what's coming."
A wave of cheers broke out.
"But take note," Tver raised his voice, cutting over the noise, "before combat, there's a step that isn't quite as fun."
With a flick of his wand at the paper bag, stacks of test papers flew out, landing neatly in front of each student.
"A test."
The students' excitement instantly collapsed, their faces sinking in disappointment.
"Don't worry. The battle you're waiting for will come after this. The test is simply so I can better understand your abilities."
He conjured a massive hourglass for timing.
"You'll have half an hour. No need to feel pressured—just write down what you already know. Even if you don't know something, I'll make sure you learn it this year."
The sand began to fall, and the test was underway.
The students bent over their papers at once, while Tver strolled behind them, trying out some of the Transfiguration techniques he'd practiced the night before.
The exam was drawn from last year's textbook, a broad summary of knowledge. From yesterday's lesson, he had already noticed that while the previous teacher had indeed covered the material, how much the students had actually retained was another matter. Combat alone only revealed one aspect of their skills—it wasn't nearly enough.
That was why he had set this written test: to see exactly how much they'd learned in Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Half an hour passed quickly. The questions weren't difficult—those who knew the answers finished swiftly, while the rest scratched their heads in frustration.
When the time was up, Tver waved his wand, and the test papers all gathered neatly into a stack. Then he gave the words everyone had been waiting for.
"Combat. I know you've been eager for this. Stand up—and don't forget your wands!"
A cheer went up as students shoved their books aside, grabbing their wands and rushing toward the open space at the back of the classroom.
To their shock, three identical Professor Fawleys appeared before them.
Triple the challenge?
Only after they had taken their positions did Tver explain.
"From yesterday's class, I could see you still have a long way to go. If I were your sole opponent, you wouldn't be able to bring out your full potential."
He pointed his wand at the two identical copies of himself, who instantly came alive and struck combat stances.
"You'll split into two teams. Each side must defend one of 'me'—and defeat the other 'me' with everything you've got!"