As the curriculum settled into a steady rhythm, Tver actually found things a bit easier.
The third-year students were still practicing positioning. Their lessons involved casting spells under Tver's guidance while dodging the occasional hex he threw their way.
The second-year students were focused on catching up with the basics they had missed last year—things like spell-casting techniques, mana output, and the application of certain spells.
This was the year Tver worried about the most.
The students' abilities were all over the place—some couldn't even maintain a steady flow of magic—but he still demanded precision in their spellcasting.
Too many students fell into this category, some struggling with every aspect. As a result, Tver had to take care of the weaker students, retracing the first-year material with them. It was almost identical to first-year lessons, aside from a slightly faster pace.
So, first-year students were focused on building their foundation, starting with the basics of spellcasting.
Of course, no matter the year, a test was always given before class started.
These tests no longer covered the entire year's content. Instead, they summarized previous lessons, making them significantly harder.
How hard, you ask? The students' feedback made it clear:
"For the last two and a half hours of class, Professor Fawley is the best teacher in the whole school. But for the first half hour? He's the most dreaded teacher in the whole school!"
Naturally, he hadn't forgotten the reward he promised the third-year students.
After finishing his afternoon class, Tver returned to his office to enjoy a quiet reading session.
Knock knock knock.
The sound of orderly knocking filled the air. Without looking up, he called out.
"Come in."
The door swung open immediately, and George's raised hand was still hanging in the air as he stared blankly at Tver inside.
Tver glanced up and placed his book back on the shelf. "What is it? Is there a monster in my office that eats people?"
Only then did the four outside scramble in. As soon as they entered, the door slammed shut behind them.
They didn't mind, though. Instead, they used the opportunity to sneak a glance around the professor's office.
Each year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office changed, so every visit gave them a new experience.
But when they saw the books piled high around the room, they couldn't help but inwardly gasp.
They might not even manage to finish half of these books before graduation!
Tver could tell exactly what they were thinking from their expressions. He tapped the four papers on the desk, drawing their attention back.
"Save your curiosity for later. Let's talk about your rewards."
The four of them immediately brightened up, with George and Fred even high-fiving each other excitedly.
"But before that, I need to confirm something," Tver's serious expression cooled the mood. "The two Weasley papers may have different writing styles, but their core content is identical."
"How do you explain that?"
The twins exchanged glances.
"It must be Fred! I started writing first!"
"What does starting first matter? I clearly finished my paper first, and then you secretly took it to read!"
Just as the two were arguing, a tall, handsome figure standing behind them stepped forward.
"Professor, may I speak on their behalf?"
"Certainly, Mr. Diggory."
This was Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff student receiving the award. He glanced at the Weasley twins, who were still glaring at their opponents.
"The Weasley twins are twins who act in unison. Their thoughts and experiences are virtually identical. You may not know this since you're new, Professor, but their homework assignments for other teachers often show identical content."
The Weasley twins immediately shifted into a brotherly, supportive mode, each draping an arm over the other's shoulder in an inseparable display. They nodded enthusiastically in agreement with Cedric's statement.
Tver nodded in acknowledgment. He had indeed considered this possibility, and there were no signs of deception in their eyes.
"In that case, this reward belongs to all four of you."
"Yesss!" Davies cheered, immediately. The usually composed Cedric joined in, excitement taking over as he embraced the twins in a celebratory hug.
Only Tver looked on with an amused glint in his eye.
"The reward is behind the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. You'll see it when you get there. Go on!"
The four of them nodded eagerly, cheering as they ran toward the door. But midway through their run, Cedric suddenly felt something was off.
"What kind of reward would be left behind a classroom?"
Davies, unbothered, tugged Cedric forward.
"Don't overthink it. If it's a reward, it can't be a stack of exams, right?"
The idea made the twins shudder.
"No way. Even if it were exams, they'd give them to us in the office. No need to put them in the classroom."
"The professor's office is small, but the classroom has more space. Maybe it's something substantial, that's why it's in the classroom!"
Everyone relaxed a little, but Cedric still had a nagging doubt in the back of his mind.
They jogged to the first-floor Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Being on the ground floor, there were plenty of young wizards coming and going, but this classroom wasn't for practice. Its doors were firmly shut.
Davies knocked on the door, puzzled.
"Did the professor forget to give us—"
"Creak."
The door swung open automatically, just like the office door, revealing the darkened classroom inside.
"We absolutely need to learn this spell—and maybe one to lock the door too, so Mum can't just barge into our room whenever she wants!" George declared, cheeks puffed out in indignation. Mrs. Weasley frequently barged into their room, confiscating numerous "forbidden items" and causing them great losses.
"Trust me, mums always find a way into our rooms," Davies lamented, sympathizing.
As they entered the classroom, candles along the path automatically lit up, casting a soft glow over the room. Fred was about to comment on how well the professor had set up the classroom, but his words died in his throat when he saw the figure draped in black cloth.
The others were equally speechless, mouths hanging open. They'd heard stories from second-years about the professor's mannequin, its reputation becoming legendary. But it only appeared during the first lesson of second year, so the third-years had never seen it in person.
Now, seeing it, a sense of foreboding rose in all their chests.
"There... there's a piece of paper with writing on it. Let's check that first. It might not even be him." Cedric pointed to the parchment taped to the black cloth covering the chest.
Only then did the others snap out of their stunned silence and cautiously walk over, fearfully expecting the figure to suddenly draw a wand and curse them.
"This is your reward: a dedicated sparring partner for one month. Just say 'begin,' and you may attempt to fight him."
After reading the note, a sinking feeling spread through the four of them.
Uh oh, they had definitely walked straight into a trap!