September 1st.
After packing his belongings into his wallet, Tver accepted the dark crimson robe Jeff handed him. At first glance, the robe looked black, but compared to true black, it revealed an undertone like congealed blood.
"Young master, you've reached the age to start working," Jeff said with a smile, his eyes glistening with tears.
In his memory, Tver was still a little boy, yet now he had grown into a professor who would teach and guide others.
"Don't make it sound like I've accomplished something great," Tver said, kneeling halfway to embrace the house-elf.
"In my eyes, Master Tver has always been remarkable," Jeff whispered softly.
...
When Tver arrived once more at the gates of Hogwarts, he noticed the place looked cleaner than before, as if it had been given a thorough scrubbing. The gates themselves stood wide open. Was this Hogwarts' confidence, showing no fear that hostile wizards might break in?
"It looks like you're ready to be a professor, Tver. No—Professor Fawley, I should say."
Professor McGonagall gave him a quick once-over, clearly pleased with his neat attire and well-groomed appearance. His presence alone was enough to make him one of the most striking professors in the school.
She still guided Tver through the grounds, though her expression was far more relaxed than before.
"In front of you, I'll always be a student," Tver replied with a smile.
He had been corresponding with Professor McGonagall recently, mostly to learn about the teaching duties at Hogwarts. To be honest, it had surprised him.
For students, the course schedule wasn't particularly harsh, but for the professors, it was a different story. There were seven compulsory subjects, each with a dedicated professor—now joined by an assistant. But with seven year groups and four houses, the workload was immense.
Only sixth- and seventh-years studied together as one group. The other five years were taught two houses at a time. On top of that, every subject required at least two consecutive lessons per week, each lasting an hour and a half.
That meant every core subject professor worked at least thirty-six hours a week—just in class! And that didn't include grading, preparing lessons, or the countless other tasks.
Frankly, it was no wonder Professor Binns might have died from overwork. And the revolving door of Defence Against the Dark Arts professors? Probably because no one could endure the year-long grind.
Fortunately, Tver had applied as a teaching assistant, only responsible for first through third years. No need to wait until the end of the year—Quirrell would even have free time to steal the Philosopher's Stone! How thoughtful!
"But where's your luggage?" Professor McGonagall asked, puzzled by Tver's empty hands. "Professors all live in the castle—there's no time to travel back and forth."
"I have a special little pouch."
Tver tapped his pocket and winked at her.
"Very well, then let me show you around your new workplace."
As she led him into the castle, Professor McGonagall briskly cleared dust from statues and suits of armor while introducing Hogwarts to him.
"There aren't many professors, so things get quite busy—especially for Albus. I handle most of the school's administration myself, so if you need anything, just come to me."
Her voice carried a hint of complaint, and Tver wisely held his tongue.
"It seems you've earned Dumbledore's complete trust in your administrative abilities, enough for him to confidently place the school in your care."
"Come to think of it, you're quite different from the Durmstrang I imagined."
Professor McGonagall regarded Tver with curiosity.
"The Durmstrang I imagined?"
Tver mimicked a gorilla.
"Not some rough-hewn face covered in beard, a deep gravelly voice, a body packed with muscle, and an aura of dark magic?"
Professor McGonagall chuckled softly and shook her head.
"My mistake. But you're far more humorous than I expected. The students will take to you quickly."
"I hope so."
Professor McGonagall led Tver to a room on the third floor, situated between Quirrell's Defence Against the Dark Arts office and the Trophy Room.
"This will be your office. You may arrange it however you like, but try not to make it too… peculiar."
After working with so many Defence Against the Dark Arts professors, she clearly had seen her share of strange things.
"It can't be worse than displaying specimens in the classroom."
Tver recalled the sight of the Potions classroom in the basement. Even at Durmstrang, they would never lay those things out so casually—it was like walking around with "I'm not a good person" written across your forehead.
The office itself was spacious, furnished only with a desk and some bookshelves that Tver would need to fill himself. Toward the back was another chamber—his bedroom. Unlike the plain office, the bedroom was well-prepared, complete with furnishings and a curtain embroidered with the Hogwarts crest.
"Since I wasn't sure what kind of office you'd prefer, I didn't decorate it on my own. If you want to add anything, you can always come to me."
"I'm very satisfied—in fact, I couldn't be more so. I can clearly feel your consideration."
Tver nodded contentedly. It couldn't compare to his room at the manor, but it was already quite good. Compared to the cramped spaces at Durmstrang, Hogwarts Castle was far more expansive. Though there were more students, there were fewer professors, which meant the faculty had plenty of living space.
Professor McGonagall then brought Tver to the first floor.
"This is Classroom 11, where you'll be teaching your students."
Tver looked around in astonishment. His office was already large, but this room was at least twice its size.
"This is the largest classroom in the school. Dumbledore arranged it especially for you, saying you'd need enough space for teaching."
Professor McGonagall explained that the room was rarely used anymore—its vast area could practically hold a meadow. She herself was curious what kind of lessons Tver planned to conduct here.
Everyone would know soon enough once classes began, so Tver offered no explanation. Still, he was very pleased with Dumbledore's thoughtful gesture.
With McGonagall guiding him, Tver had toured most of the castle, gaining a preliminary sense of the ancient fortress. The rest he would explore in his own time.
As night fell, Professor McGonagall led him into the Great Hall.
The moment Tver stepped inside, the swirling clouds on the enchanted ceiling flickered, and the candles overhead flared to life under McGonagall's spell.
"The magic up there is rather peculiar," she explained. "It's been like this since my own school days—occasionally shifting with clever changes."
"Fascinating," Tver said, a faint smile touching his lips. "The mysteries of Hogwarts make me all the more eager for the days to come."