A Change in Attitude

Tver thought he had probably guessed the reason for their change in attitude—word had spread about how well he got along with the students in class.

All it took was one day for something that happened in the castle to reach everyone's ears.

Hogwarts certainly lived up to its reputation.

"Just a few teaching tricks," Tver said with a shrug. "Apparently, the students don't mind them."

"The students do more than just not mind," Professor Flitwick said, giving him a mysterious wink. "I was worried you might be nervous on your first day of teaching."

"They're only a bunch of third-years. They're quite easy to handle," Tver said in an old-fashioned tone. Anyone who did not know better might have thought Professor Flitwick had said it.

Smiling all the way, Tver felt as though his face was beginning to stiffen.

He had only met them at last night's feast, and today was still the first day of term, yet it seemed as though every student already knew this new professor.

But the moment he entered the Great Hall, he understood what Professor Flitwick had meant.

As soon as the students spotted him, someone immediately let out a scream.

"Professor Fawley, can't you consider hanging up and whipping a fourth-year like me too?!"

Well, it was a rather rugged-looking boy.

The Great Hall erupted with laughter, but the students' eyes were full of anticipation as they stared brightly at Tver.

"Professor, please teach us some combat techniques too!"

"Please, tie me up as tightly as you like—I don't mind!"

As for Quirrell at the staff table, he wished he did not have to teach a single class and could spend all day figuring out how to deal with the Three-Headed Dog.

Tver had only taught one lesson, of course, so there was no way the students would be this eager because of that alone.

But everything feared comparison. Both had taught their first lesson, yet Quirrell's class had been unbearably dull.

The classroom itself reeked of garlic, enough to give the students headaches.

Not to mention the content of his lessons. He merely recited from the textbook; compared to Professor Binns, who taught History of Magic, he only had slightly more emotion.

Whenever it came to casting spells, he would pick students to demonstrate. Though he talked a great deal, he had never demonstrated anything himself, leaving the students to figure it out on their own.

But Tver was different. That golden film alone was enough for the Weasley Twins to rave about for ages.

And then there was Davis from Ravenclaw, who had practically become Professor Fawley's diehard fan, praising his abilities to the skies.

In the young wizards' eyes, from looks to ability, Professor Fawley completely crushed Professor Quirrell!

Tver raised a hand, and the Great Hall immediately fell silent. Seeing the expectation in the students' eyes—especially those of the older students—he made a grand gesture and pointed at Quirrell seated at the staff table.

"Classes for fourth-years and above are taught by Professor Quirrell. Believe me, he is more than qualified to be your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He simply hasn't shown it yet."

Quirrell wanted to hide his abilities, and Tver did not mind digging a few pits for him.

They were colleagues in every sense of the word now. If he was not going to trip him up, then who would he trip up?

The move worked remarkably well. Quirrell's previously cheerful, amused expression froze at once, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He had no idea what expression to wear in response to the students' questioning looks.

The little commotion in the Great Hall soon died down, though the students continued discussing the elegant Professor Fawley.

"We still have several days before Professor Fawley's class," Ron said, a chicken leg in his left hand and a custard tart in his right, while his mouth did not stop moving. "So there's no need to be looking forward to it this early."

"I'm not looking forward to it!" Hermione, who had been reading while eating dinner beside him, looked up and emphasized unhappily with a frown.

"Professor Fawley's first class was testing our abilities. If you can't even cast a single spell, wouldn't we lose the moment we faced him?!"

Neville put down the chicken leg in his hand with a look of despair. "Then I'm done for. Even if I studied for a whole year, I might not be able to cast a complete spell."

Harry listened to their discussion in silence, his heart tightening as well.

During class today, he had been pleasantly surprised to discover that he was not worse than his classmates at learning magic—Hermione excluded, of course.

But now that he had heard the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson would involve fighting a professor, if he performed poorly, would he be sent back to the Dursley family for failing his grades?

George sat excitedly among them. Now, anywhere along the Gryffindor table that someone was talking about Professor Fawley, he would appear.

"Don't worry. No matter how much you learn, Professor Fawley will still knock you all down with one spell."

"Maybe the professor can scare them stiff just by waving his wand," Fred added with a mischievous grin.

"But I heard you only took one spell from the professor too, and then all three of you were hung up," Ron said, blinking his innocent eyes in confusion, completely unaware that he had stepped exactly on a landmine.

"..."

The twins exchanged a silent look.

"I think we could develop some spider candy. Turning people into spiders would definitely be fun."

"We could also fill the common room with spiders, so the Gryffindors can practise their positioning in advance."

"Positioning? Do you mean the kind used in combat techniques?" Hermione's thirst for knowledge immediately stirred. "Could you explain it to us in detail?"

She was more interested in what Professor Fawley taught. As a diligent student, she always had to prepare before class.

But from the snippets she had heard, Professor Fawley's lessons did not seem to follow the textbook at all.

And as far as she remembered, few books contained material like that.

"Don't be in such a hurry. You'll learn it all—we have an entire year!" George said smugly, shaking his head.

At present, only their batch of students in the entire school had taken Professor Fawley's classes, and they had all tacitly kept the course content secret.

These were top-secret techniques capable of increasing one's strength!

Of course, once everyone had taken Defence Against the Dark Arts, they would learn the contents.

But by then, they would share the friendship of having hung from the ceiling together, so it would not matter if they knew.

Hermione pursed her lips in dissatisfaction and stopped bothering with the tight-lipped Weasley Twins.

But after Ron had eaten and drunk his fill, he suddenly said, "Aren't you worried Professor Fawley might use dark magic?"

"That's impossible! How could a professor use dark magic on students?!" Hermione immediately retorted.

"But Professor Fawley is a typical Durmstrang student. Isn't it normal for him to know some dark magic?" Ron frowned.

In his mind, knowing dark magic was equivalent to being a Dark wizard, and Durmstrang, which taught dark magic, was the headquarters of Dark wizards.

George was displeased. He gave Ron a hard pat on the shoulder.

"My dear brother, knowing dark magic does not mean using dark magic. I'd bet Headmaster Dumbledore knows quite a bit of dark magic too."

"Even if he is a Dark wizard, so what?" Fred wore the expression of a crazed fan. "As long as he doesn't use it on us."

Ron shot his two brothers a scornful glance.

You were betting this morning on how long it would take Professor Fawley to end up in Azkaban...