After finishing his lessons with the first-years, Tver's tasks for the week were essentially done.
The second- and third-year students had initially been disappointed that the first-years hadn't been punished by being hung upside down, but their frustration quickly faded when they learned that all the newcomers had done was learn to make light with their wands.
This even sparked an odd camaraderie, and they began mocking the first-years relentlessly.
Gryffindor Common Room.
"Fred, show Ron what real combat looks like!" George said, his face serious.
Fred made an "OK" gesture, then drew his wand in the common room.
"Stupefy!"
A red light shot out, hitting George squarely. However, the light dispersed, and George showed no signs of falling.
He even looked like he was about to laugh.
"Fred," Ron said with a frown, clearly frustrated, "you said you learned some powerful magic from Professor Fawley? Come on, give me a proper beating already!"
Fred shrugged innocently.
"That's all the professor taught me."
Ron, clearly embarrassed, could only stare helplessly at the prankster twins.
Harry, on the other hand, found it hilarious. He was grinning from the side, completely unaware that they were making fun of him.
"Oh, come on, you've been doing this trick all day—pretending to be hit, then pretending nothing happened," Hermione snapped, slamming her book shut. "Didn't the professor give you homework? Get to it!"
George and Fred exchanged a glance before turning back with broad, delighted grins.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but we've already finished the professor's essay. We're just waiting to hand it in and get that reward!"
"But the reward is mine, George. You can forget about it."
"Bullshit! I spent ten extra minutes on mine. My essay is ten times better than yours!"
"Hmph. Mine's an inch longer. Professor Fawley will definitely know mine is more detailed!"
They continued to bicker without a care for their surroundings, drawing exasperated eye-rolls from the older students.
Professor Fawley's reward had become the hottest topic in the castle, with everyone speculating about what it could be.
"I bet it's private tutoring with the professor," said an older witch, her face glowing with anticipation.
Of course, this was just wishful thinking on the part of the witches. The most widely accepted theory was that it was a magical artifact or a unique spell.
But whatever it was, the reward was out of their reach. After all, only third-year students had ever been promised such a prize.
Hermione shook her head helplessly.
She had once dreamed of competing for the reward, thinking she could earn it by finishing her homework. But in the end, it had nothing to do with first-years.
Glancing at the time, she realized curfew was only an hour away. Quickly gathering her books, she rushed out.
"Where are you going?" Ron asked, looking confused.
"To practice!"
The next moment, Hermione's figure and voice disappeared from the common room.
"What's there to practice? Even if she gets perfect at it, she still can't turn a beam of light into magic," Ron muttered to himself.
However, with dueling becoming so popular, finding an empty classroom to practice in on weekends was no easy task.
Hermione checked a few classrooms, but they were all already full of students practicing their dueling.
Just as she was starting to feel frustrated, a voice suddenly spoke in her ear.
"What are you looking for?"
Tver stood in the corridor outside his office, watching the witch who was glancing around curiously. The flickering torchlight cast shadows across his pale face, making it appear somewhat eerie. Hermione, understandably, was startled.
Tver quickly caught the backpack she had dropped in her fright. It was surprisingly heavy—nothing like a first-year's usual load. It felt more like the bag of a fifth-year preparing for O.W.L. exams.
"P-Professor, I didn't notice you were here."
Hermione glanced nervously down the corridor and realized she had walked right past the offices of both Defence Against the Dark Arts professors.
"There's no need to panic. Curfew hasn't started yet," Tver said, opening the office door. "But it's rare for first-years to be wandering around the castle at this hour. Would you like to come in and have a chat?"
He held her bag like it was a hostage, leaving Hermione no choice but to accept, though she didn't mind. Getting personal guidance from a professor was far better than practicing alone.
Hermione reassured herself as she stepped into the office. This was her first time ever entering a professor's private space.
Candles flickered to life along the walls as Tver moved, revealing the room's layout.
Books. There were far too many of them. Two large bookshelves stood near the door, and behind the desk, three more lined the wall, crammed with books. Even the desk itself was cluttered with stacks of books.
Other than that, there were only a few objects draped in black cloth occupying one corner.
This only strengthened her belief in her reading plan. If I can get through all these books, I'll definitely become as brilliant as the professor!
"Have a seat. Tea? Or pumpkin juice?" Tver asked gently.
He had always served tea to guests, but after trying Hogwarts' pumpkin juice, he had decided to add it to his drink collection.
Hermione sat down somewhat stiffly and said quietly, "Tea will be fine."
In less than a second, the teapot and cup clinked as they hurried over to her, pouring a steaming cup of tea. It was English black tea, with sugar and milk on the side.
Seeing that Hermione didn't seem eager to drink, the cup spun anxiously in front of her, almost spilling its contents. Only then did Hermione pick it up.
The professor was drinking pumpkin juice!
The contrast surprised her. She had assumed someone as distinguished as him would be sipping tea in an elegant manner. But this also made her realize that the professor had only just graduated, and was only seven years older than her.
That thought made her relax entirely.
Seeming to notice her surprise, Tver smiled and said, "It wasn't until I came to Hogwarts that I discovered how delicious this drink is. It surprisingly suits my taste. I hope you won't think less of me for it."
"Of course not," Hermione said quickly, looking up at him. "On the contrary, I think you seem... more approachable now."
"?" Tver's smile faltered. Was he really at an age where "approachable" was the right description?!
But the brief pause was quickly replaced with another smile. "I'm glad you find me approachable. Now, tell me, what brings you to the castle at this hour?"
Hermione found it strange that Tver emphasized "approachable," but soon dismissed the thought.
"Didn't the professor tell us to practice that technique more? I was just looking for a place to work on it."