Compared to the lower years, who were happily absorbed in the Light Orb game, the upperclassmen were far less fortunate.
They couldn't take Professor Fawley's classes or play the Light Orb game—and to make matters worse, they'd hoped that after the duel, Quirrell might finally show a hint of responsibility. Instead, he remained as lazy and uninspired as ever.
Their frustration with Professor Quirrell had reached its peak.
...
In the Great Hall, Percy was venting loudly to Penelope.
"Do you know what Professor Quirrell talked about in class today?"
Penelope humored him, asking, "What did he talk about?"
"Trolls! Two whole hours on trolls!" Percy groaned. "So detailed, so vivid—I could practically smell the stench!"
He slumped over, resting his head on the long table with a weary sigh.
"I've got my O.W.L.s this year, and at this rate, I'm never going to get all twelve certificates."
"Oh, my dear brother," George said dramatically, striding over, "why not ask our esteemed Professor Fawley for some help?"
Percy waved him off irritably.
"Forget it. Every student in our year's been hoping he'd take over our classes, but so far he hasn't agreed."
Fred shook his head, grinning mischievously. "No, no, dear Percy—he might not be teaching your class, but he could still give you some personal guidance!"
Percy cast a glance toward the staff table, where Professor Fawley was conspicuously absent.
"I've no idea what he's so busy with. He's barely around these days—where would he find time to tutor me?"
Recently, Tver had been occupied reviewing the duel, studying Neville, and sinking deeper into his wizard chess obsession. Outside of class, he was rarely seen.
George's grin widened.
"Here's a hint—if you head to the first-floor Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom between nine and ten at night, you'll find the professor there."
Penelope frowned. "Why then?"
"As a reward," Percy said enviously, "the professor gives them private lessons around that time. Though I imagine he's busy even then?"
The twins shook their heads in perfect sync, both looking a little glum.
"He tutors us while playing wizard chess," said Fred.
"His chess skills have skyrocketed lately—we can't beat him anymore," George added.
"We can already tell he's getting bored with us. His teaching's getting lazier by the day."
"So we need someone who's actually good at chess—"
"To play with the professor!"
The twins' excitement grew with every word. Together, they threw their arms around Percy's shoulders.
"This great responsibility falls to you, dear brother!"
"Oh, please. You just want a stand-in," Percy said, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. His eyes had regained their spark, the earlier gloom gone.
"Hold on—Ron's better at chess than I am. Why not ask him?"
"When you can't keep up with the professor anymore, we'll kick you out and bring Ron in," George said matter-of-factly.
"Brilliant. So that's why you two aren't practicing the Light Orb game—you just needed a pawn!"
...
At nine o'clock sharp, Tver arrived at the classroom.
He had been spending an hour each day practicing wizard chess lately, and his progress had been swift. Now even Cedric, the strongest player in their group of four, couldn't beat him. Feeling pleased, he went to face Professor McGonagall's board again—and lost, as expected. Even so, the game had become competitive enough that he didn't lose badly, which at least confirmed his current level.
"Hmm, if I recall correctly, your name is Percy, right?" Tver looked in surprise at the fifth person in the room.
"Yes, Professor Fawley," Percy introduced himself a bit stiffly. "I'm Percy Weasley, George and Fred's older brother, and the Gryffindor prefect."
His smile was awkward. He had questioned Professor Fawley's abilities during the duel, but now he admired him completely.
"Why bother mentioning the prefect title?"
George stepped forward with a dismissive look and told Tver that Percy wanted guidance.
Tver's eyes lit up. Ron's skill at chess was undoubtedly higher, but the gap between them was too wide—Ron might not learn much that way. By contrast, it made more sense to play Percy first and then bring in Ron.
"If the professor doesn't like that, we can find another sparring partner," Fred added.
Tver set the chessboard on the desk and patted the seat beside him. "No need yet. Percy, come over. Let's play a game first."
Percy hurried over, delighted, and sat down, still a bit tense. The other four clustered around Tver with their notebooks. Their private lessons always went like this: Tver spoke while playing, and they stood by listening, jotting down notes from time to time. The only one who suffered was Cedric, who had to focus on the board while also trying to follow the lesson—and he couldn't take notes.
That was why they'd brought in an outsider—at Cedric's strong urging.
With the pieces set, Tver took white as usual. "Pawn to A3. The O.W.L.s have theory and practical sections. Percy, what have you prepared?" he asked casually after Percy moved.
Percy thought a moment. "I've memorized all the theory, but I lack practical experience. I'm worried I'll panic during the exam."
Tver nodded absently. Typical top student—heavy on memorization.
"You're doing well. Defence Against the Dark Arts theory is easily overlooked. In fact, many poor results come down to that section." He glanced at Cedric and the others scribbling furiously. "That's why you have written tests in class—especially you two Weasleys. You focus too much on practice. If you fail the end-of-year theory exam, I'll have you writing exam papers all summer."
George and Fred felt a chill and nodded quickly.
Tver turned back to Percy. "For your practical work, I recommend a special method."
Not only Percy, but even Cedric and the others stopped writing, ears pricked and eyes fixed on him.
"Break the spell down."
Tver drew his wand and said, "Lumos," but he didn't move the wand until the word was finished; only then did he give it a small flourish and release a clear pulse of magic. The tip brightened slowly.
"Split a spell into three steps: incantation, gesture, and release of magical energy. Study and understand each step in depth. Master it completely before moving on to the next spell."
Percy nodded thoughtfully, while Cedric and the others looked baffled. A spell was a spell—you said it and it worked. What was there to study?
Tver didn't explain. This wasn't something for third-years. In fact, they might not encounter it until sixth year—true synthesis in magic. It was another path to nonverbal casting, harder and stronger than ordinary nonverbal spells. At that level, casting becomes second nature, with no fear of misfires and no trouble wielding the magic you've learned.