With Penelope's scream, their conversation was no longer a secret.
The entire Great Hall buzzed with whispers as students pointed at Tver. Prefects tried to keep order, but that didn't stop the wave of discussion.
"Who knew the new professor came from Durmstrang!"
"He's only eighteen—just three years older than me!"
"Isn't it normal for a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor to know dark magic?"
"How could he teach us defense if he didn't understand it himself?"
"Too bad Professor Fawley only teaches first through third years. Maybe I should repeat a year…"
Even Tver's patience couldn't hold up under that chatter. He decided to leave and headed early to Room 18, where his class would be held.
This morning's first lesson was with the third-years—a joint class for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
The classroom was bare, furnished with only a teacher's desk and rows of chairs up front. A large open space stretched across the back, waiting for Tver's arrangements.
...
By the time George Weasley and Fred Weasley finally arrived, the room was already full.
"Look what you did! Giving Wood that Fat Tongue Toffee—he chased us for half an hour!" Fred grumbled, jabbing George with his shoulder.
"Relax, class hasn't even started yet," George said with a mischievous lift of his brow.
"If you two don't come in now, I'll have to mark you absent."
Tver waved the parchment in his hand at them. It was the class roster, its names glowing with golden light—except theirs.
The twins quickly hurried inside. The moment they crossed the threshold, golden letters appeared above each of their heads—their names. A shimmer of golden light peeled away from the letters like tiny birds, fluttering down into Tver's parchment. Only then did their names glow on the list.
The letters above their heads, however, remained visible, making it easy for Tver to remember them.
"Brilliant!" Fred's eyes shone.
"Professor, you have to teach us that!"
George stared at Tver with eager anticipation, Fred nodding vigorously beside him.
It was just a simple name-marking spell, though it carried a subtle application of soul magic.
Tver tucked the parchment away, a sly smile curving his lips.
"Trust me. Even with all the rules you've already broken, Headmaster Dumbledore would never be happy to see you learning this."
A chill swept through the students.
Thinking back to what had spread in the Great Hall that morning, the kindly Professor Fawley suddenly didn't seem so harmless. In fact, remembering the previous Defence Against the Dark Arts professors who hadn't lasted a year, some students began to suspect this one might end up arrested as a Dark Wizard and sent to Azkaban before the year was out.
The moment George sat down, he blurted out, "Professor Fawley, I heard you graduated from Durmstrang this year, right?"
Tver dismissed the spell at the door and, without turning, said, "Mr. Weasley, next time remember to raise your hand before asking."
Then he faced the students, all wearing the same questioning look.
"Yes. I did come from that school."
The classroom erupted in noise.
"Professor, do you really teach dark magic?"
"Will you teach us dark magic?"
"Has that man's emblem always been in Durmstrang?"
Students scrambled to hurl questions at Tver, some even standing up to shout.
"Quiet!"
Tver's voice wasn't loud, but in the students' ears it reverberated straight into their souls. The instant the words fell, they were stunned into silence, dazed by the weight of his tone.
After a brief pause, they realized in shock that they couldn't hear themselves—or anyone else—speaking.
Had we gone deaf?!
Just as panic began to set in, Tver's voice rang out again.
"You haven't gone deaf. This is just a small punishment. From now on, remember to raise your hand before speaking."
Seeing their collective sigh of relief, he let out a cold chuckle.
"Also, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw will each lose ten points."
Fred shot his hand up. Only when Tver gave him a nod did he realize his voice had returned.
"Professor, we don't even have any points yet! How are you going to take them away?"
The students covered their mouths, snickering.
"That is a fair point. Then I'll save it up. One point per day, until your Houses have enough to deduct."
Tver's words worked like a spell that erased smiles, leaving the students with a sudden, chilly "respect" for their new professor.
"Regarding Durmstrang, I won't go into much detail in class. Just know this: studying dark magic doesn't make us dark wizards."
He felt he had to explain—after all, he still wanted to be a teacher "admired" by his students.
"As for Grindelwald."
He paused, waiting until the students leaned in at the name.
"His emblem is indeed still seen in the school. But his ideology, much like Hogwarts' pureblood doctrine, has supporters everywhere."
"That doesn't mean all students agree with him. Many lost family to Grindelwald, and they make sure anyone who flaunts his emblem is taught a harsh lesson."
"So in my view, Durmstrang simply replaces Defence Against the Dark Arts with Dark Arts studies. Beyond that, the two schools aren't all that different."
A boy raised his hand—Roger Davies.
"Professor Fawley, I heard Durmstrang doesn't accept Muggle-born students. Is that true?"
"You're correct, Mr. Davies. In our view, Muggle-born students often find it harder to resist the lure of dark magic. Only when parents provide magical guidance can a student truly recognize its nature."
Another student lifted their hand, but Tver cut the moment short.
"Enough. If you have questions about Durmstrang, you may ask me later. For now, we begin the first proper lesson—and my very first class."
He gave a slight smile. "Honestly, I thought you'd be more excited for this."
"Now then, who can tell me what we study in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"
The question was so simple even George could answer.
"Learning how to use magic to protect ourselves from dark creatures and dark magic, and practicing both offensive and defensive spells."
"Correct. Which is why, to start this class, I need to gauge your grasp of magic."
Tver clapped his hands, drawing every eye to him.
"The fastest way is combat. I'll fight you."
His lips curved upward, his eyes dancing with amusement.
The students' eyes widened in shock, pupils trembling like an earthquake, mouths hanging open.
"Relax. I won't kill you."