On Thursday afternoon, Harry and Ron hurried down to the first floor, heading for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"Wonder what Professor Fawley's going to teach us?" Ron asked excitedly as they jogged along.
Harry wasn't quite as hopeful. "What if the professor finds out we can't even cast a single spell? Do you think he'll get so mad he'll refuse to teach us?"
Ron waved his hand confidently. "Don't worry. Apart from that Granger, no one in the entire first year can cast a spell yet. Maybe he'll teach us advanced magic right away!"
He grinned. "Once I learn it, I'm going to teach George and the others a lesson."
By the time they crossed the mischievous staircase and arrived at the classroom, they were already late.
The two hurried inside. Their classmates were seated, already working on their test papers, while Professor Fawley sat at the front desk, reading a book with casual interest.
"Brilliant," Ron breathed in awe.
Even though they'd heard about it countless times, seeing their own names appear above their heads with a flash of golden light still amazed them.
Harry nodded in agreement.
But Tver had already lifted his gaze to them.
"I believe," he said suddenly, "you two are the only ones to arrive late to my class."
Harry's shoulders stiffened. "Sorry, Professor, we got lost."
Tver didn't respond at first. He simply gave Harry a deep, assessing look.
When both boys began fidgeting nervously with their robes, he finally spoke in a calm tone. "This won't happen again. As punishment, you'll have five minutes less to complete your exam."
The first-year test was simple—mainly to see how well they'd reviewed their textbooks. Anyone who had at least skimmed through it could manage a decent score.
Relieved, the two quickly found seats and waited anxiously. Five minutes later, two sheets of parchment floated over to them.
Tver returned to his book, Wizard Chess Fundamentals. He'd already mastered the rules—now he just needed a sparring partner to test his skills.
Half an hour passed, and as the last grain of sand fell through the hourglass, most students were still scratching their heads in a final burst of desperate effort.
"Harry, let me see yours," Ron whispered urgently.
Harry expressionlessly tilted his paper toward him. Ron's face fell—it looked just as bad as his own.
A total disaster.
Tver clapped his hands twice. All the papers floated neatly through the air, stacking themselves on his desk.
"Don't worry about your grades," he said. "I already have a good idea of your current level."
Hermione let out a quiet huff of disapproval, but in the silent room, it sounded much louder than she intended. Everyone heard it clearly.
Her face turned bright red, and she hurried to lift her head, flustered and ready to explain.
"Of course," Tver continued evenly, "I know some of you have studied ahead, and I don't mean that as criticism."
"To be honest, I prefer students like you—a blank slate gives me the perfect chance to build a solid foundation."
He drew his wand and smiled, raising his voice slightly.
"So, are you ready?"
"We're ready!" the students shouted, their voices full of excitement.
Excellent—full of energy.
Tver nodded, clearly satisfied.
"However, since I know none of you can use magic yet, the combat portion of this class will depend on your progress in Charms. Until then, we'll focus mainly on theory."
Their enthusiasm dropped instantly, like a rollercoaster plunging from its peak.
"Alright then," Tver went on, "before we begin the actual lessons, you'll need to learn a little trick."
He led them to the open space at the back of the classroom, raised his wand, and casually sent three streaks of light—red, green, and yellow—flashing against the white wall.
"This is it—a simple little trick. It's not a spell, just pure magical light. It won't hurt anyone when it hits them."
"You can use this technique outdoors as well, to communicate over distances."
"Red light means danger, green means safety, and yellow indicates something unusual. Of course, yellow isn't very visible during the day, so you can use green instead."
The young wizards looked thoroughly bored. They had been hoping to learn some powerful, dazzling spells and maybe even duel with the professor.
Tver immediately saw through their thoughts. "Let me remind you—this little trick is important. Every student must master it before we can move on to the next lesson."
Only then did they adjust their attitudes and begin practicing seriously, aiming their wands at the white wall.
It was simple enough—anyone who paid attention in Charms class could quickly manage to produce light. The only challenge was making the light change color at will.
But with more practice, within half an hour nearly everyone had mastered it completely.
Except for one student.
"Mr. Longbottom, you seem rather nervous?"
Tver softened his tone as much as he could, but it still startled the round-faced boy.
His hand shook, and his wand slipped from his grasp. Fortunately, Tver's quick reflexes caught it before it hit the floor.
The students who had already finished noticed the commotion and began whispering and snickering about Neville Longbottom.
Neville's forehead was slick with sweat. His hands fidgeted helplessly, and he didn't even take the wand that Tver held out to him.
"Have you all mastered it already?" Tver shot a sharp look at the group of idle students.
"Come now, there's no need to be nervous," he said gently to Neville. "Casting a spell is as natural to us wizards as breathing."
"I'm sure you've noticed this before—breathing feels effortless, but the moment you focus on it, that natural rhythm disappears."
"Professor, I… I might not be a real wizard," Neville said, his voice trembling, on the verge of tears.
Tver chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. Through Legilimency, he already knew that Neville's memory issues came from having once been struck by a Memory Charm.
He couldn't help but wonder what had brought this boy—once the famed Gryffindor Sword's Chosen One in another life—to such a fragile state now.
"I can assure you, you are a wizard—a powerful one," Tver said as Neville looked up in surprise. "You're just too nervous, focusing too much on the wrong things."
He placed the wand firmly back in Neville's hand. "Now, forget everything. Feel your magic as naturally as you breathe—then release it."
Tver's voice was calm and entrancing, almost hypnotic, like a whisper of temptation that drew Neville in. Without realizing it, the boy lifted his right hand.
A loud bang echoed.
A massive burst of red light struck the wall, knocking loose a chunk of plaster and making the nearby students jump in surprise.
They immediately crowded around Neville again, but this time, their faces were filled with awe.
"That was…"
Neville stared at the wall in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.
Tver waved his wand, repairing the damage with a flick.
"That was plaster," he said lightly. "Since Mr. Longbottom damaged the classroom, Gryffindor loses one point."
He smiled at the stunned students.
"Pfft."
Ron was the first to burst out laughing, and soon the whole class joined in, laughter echoing through the room. Neville laughed the hardest, tears streaming down his cheeks as he doubled over.
"Alright," Tver said, bringing the class back to order. "Since everyone has mastered the technique, that's the end of today's lesson."
"No homework. The only thing I expect is for you to keep practicing this little trick—it'll be very useful for your next class."