The young wizards were buzzing with excitement. As first-years, they rarely had the chance to use magic. Even in the last class, all they did was make lights appear—hardly satisfying. But this lesson was different. Though they were still casting light, hitting the glowing orbs gave them a rush that felt like a real battle. In a sense, it was the closest they'd ever come to combat.
In the corridor, Ron said to Harry with a touch of frustration, "Did you hear that? Professor Fawley said I could've scored higher."
"You did well. It's just your wand holding you back," Harry replied. As the first to go, he'd watched nearly everyone's performance. Even without the friend filter, Ron's results were better than most.
"Forget it. My family can't afford another wand."
Ron waved his wand awkwardly, nearly poking Hermione as she walked by.
"Don't wave your wand in the corridor," Hermione scolded, frowning. "Do you want to lose points?"
Ron glared back. "Oh, come on. Harry just earned ten points for the house all by himself. You're not jealous, are you?"
"Jealous?" Hermione puffed her cheeks in irritation, arms crossed as she stared at him. "Harry's score isn't even half the professor's!"
Ron's grin widened, smug and satisfied.
"Then doesn't that just prove how amazing Harry is? He's a first-year and already scoring nearly half of what the professor did!"
"Hmph! I bet none of you noticed the professor's casting properly. That wasn't ordinary light—it was a series of different spells!"
"Impossible!"
Even Harry's eyes widened, his voice rising sharply in disbelief.
"What's impossible about it? I couldn't tell what every spell was, but the professor kept casting without repeating a single one!"
"So that means—" Ron stammered, stunned.
"That means the professor used one hundred and twenty different spells!" Hermione said proudly, lifting her chin.
All the way back to the Great Hall, they kept discussing how many spells Professor Fawley might know. When George and Fred overheard the talk, the mischievous twins eagerly joined in. With their excitement and the spreading word from other students, it didn't take long before the entire Great Hall was abuzz about Defence Against the Dark Arts—and the new Hogwarts mystery: just how many spells Professor Fawley could actually perform.
The moment Tver entered the Great Hall, he was surrounded by students.
"Professor! Is it true you know one hundred and twenty spells?" asked a blond boy with slicked-back hair.
Tver paused, realizing word of his classroom display had gotten out.
"Mr. Malfoy, I've never counted exactly how many spells I know. But if you include some minor ones, it's likely far more than a hundred and twenty."
The students gasped, their chatter bursting into noise. Some even claimed he knew more spells than Dumbledore himself.
Tver had to raise his voice to speak over them.
"Let me make one thing clear—knowing many spells doesn't mean you're strong. In real combat, we rarely use more than ten. Mastering those ten spells is far more valuable than knowing a hundred. As for Headmaster Dumbledore, I can assure you, he knows far more magic than I do."
In terms of magical knowledge, perhaps only the long-lived Nicolas Flamel could compare to Dumbledore.
After Tver's explanation, the young wizards finally returned to their seats, though their chatter about the professors didn't stop. If anything, it grew louder. Soon, they'd even drawn up a ranking of the professors' strengths—excluding Dumbledore of course—though the list was entirely subjective.
"I'll bet Professor Fawley is number one!" Ron declared emphatically.
Neville nodded in agreement, but Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor Prefect, disagreed.
"I admit Professor Fawley is formidable, but hasn't he always excelled in combat? When it comes to overall strength, Professor McGonagall is undoubtedly superior to Professor Fawley."
Penelope, sitting beside him, looked displeased.
"Of course we're comparing combat prowess—not teaching skills!" She gestured toward Professor Flitwick at the staff table. "Besides, our Charms Professor was a Duelling Champion in his youth! If we're really comparing, he might even outrank both Professor Fawley and Professor McGonagall!"
"Though I do think Professor Fawley is slightly stronger than Professor McGonagall," she added as an afterthought.
Naturally, such talk led nowhere. With no real standard of measurement or solid evidence, neither side could convince the other—unless a genuine duel were to unfold before their eyes.
...
As night fell, an astonishing yet widely anticipated rumor spread among the students—Professor Flitwick was going to duel Professor Fawley!
After Penelope cautiously confirmed it, Professor Flitwick happily acknowledged the news. Right after dinner, he planned to have a friendly sparring match with Professor Tver.
Tver stood beside him, smiling as well.
The matter had actually begun earlier, when he'd sat down to discuss classroom matters with Professor Flitwick.
"You have to understand them, Tver," Professor Flitwick said gently. "Students often have misconceptions about magic."
"Indeed. I've repeated many times in class that mastery matters more than the magic itself, yet they still prefer powerful and flashy spells."
He shook his head helplessly.
"I can relate. Back when I was a student, I was obsessed with learning every kind of spell I could find. The more mysterious and complex, the more it fascinated me," Tver said, returning the reassurance.
Professor Flitwick's eyes lit up. "But your basic spellwork is excellent. You don't seem like that kind of student. How did you change your mindset?"
"It happened after I watched the upperclassmen duel."
Professor Flitwick immediately understood, but Professor McGonagall looked puzzled.
"Your upperclassmen still hold duels?" she asked.
Before Tver could answer, Professor Flitwick explained.
"Durmstrang has a dueling tradition. Each year, there's an intra-year tournament, followed by a schoolwide championship at the end of the term to determine the overall winner."
He glanced back at Tver. "With your level of skill, you must have won at least two or three championships, right?"
"Actually, seven year championships and four overall championships."
Even Professor McGonagall and the others who hadn't known before finally understood what it meant for Tver to be Durmstrang's most exceptional graduate.
From the moment he entered school, he was unmatched among his peers—and from his fourth year onward, he dominated the entire academy. It wasn't just victory; it was utter supremacy.