Hogwarts

July 31.

Tver had deliberately arrived half an hour early, Apparating directly to the gates of Hogwarts.

He had chosen to Apparate rather than use the more convenient Floo Powder purely because using Floo Powder was never particularly elegant.

Tver had no desire to appear before anyone in formal attire with his nose covered in soot.

As someone from Durmstrang, he had to treat every person at Hogwarts with caution.

Besides, under his teachers' influence, maintaining one's image before outsiders had always been especially important.

But he had arrived a little too early. The gates were shut, and there was no "designated guide" mentioned in the letter.

He yawned helplessly.

Ever since the name Ravenclaw had appeared, Tver had been studying that strange book.

Yet his mind had never again been taken over, and the book's contents offered no practical help. They were all broad overviews, flimsier than his graduation thesis from his previous life.

"Good morning. You must be Mr. Fawley, I presume?" As Tver complained inwardly, an elderly yet elegantly poised witch appeared beside him.

She wore square spectacles, her curled black hair gathered into a high bun, and a dark green robe. Her immaculate attire made her look like a stern teacher.

"Minerva McGonagall. I am Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration. You may call me Professor McGonagall." Noticing Tver's appraising gaze, Professor McGonagall immediately introduced herself.

Tver's sealed memories suddenly came flooding back. Professor McGonagall had been famous beyond measure in his previous life, though unlike her image in the films, her expression was rather more aloof.

"You may simply call me Tver. Thank you for coming to guide me," Tver said with a gentle smile.

Perhaps his expression and mannerisms were not very Durmstrang-like. Professor McGonagall's pursed lips relaxed slightly, and she nodded at him.

"Professor Quirrell and Headmaster Dumbledore are already waiting for you. Let us go in."

"I hope I'm not late." Tver followed Professor McGonagall into this long-awaited place where dreams came true.

Professor McGonagall showed no intention of introducing Hogwarts to him, merely answering casually, "They are looking forward to this interview."

Her expression remained somewhat aloof. It seemed his identity as a Durmstrang student made her uneasy.

He just did not know what Dumbledore thought.

They hurried through the castle. The normally mischievous staircases behaved themselves before the Deputy Headmistress, naturally delivering them to the eighth floor.

"Sherbet Lemon," Professor McGonagall said, giving the password.

The gargoyle at the entrance leapt aside, while the wall behind it split in two. A slowly rising spiral staircase appeared before Tver.

"Go in. They are waiting for you in the Headmaster's office."

"Thank you very much for your guidance." Tver gave a bow, then stepped onto the stairs.

As the staircase slowly rose, a gleaming wooden door appeared before him when he reached the top.

He took two steps forward, and the wooden door opened for him automatically.

Before him was an ancient yet exquisitely furnished circular office.

The wall on the left was covered with portraits of former Hogwarts headmasters, all squinting as they scrutinized Tver when he appeared.

On the right stood a row of bookshelves and a curtain, blocking his view.

Inside was a long table, upon which sat several strange silver instruments. They spun continuously, puffing out streams of smoke.

Behind the table, a crimson-and-gold phoenix stood on a perch, its head tilted as it watched him.

In front of the table sat a young man wearing a large turban. His hands were clasped before his chest, and his whole body gave an occasional shudder.

Behind the table sat an elderly man with white hair and beard.

His long beard was hidden by the table, while his bright blue eyes shone through half-moon spectacles.

Those eyes were watching Tver.

"Welcome, friend from afar." With agility that did not suit his age, Dumbledore went around the table and approached Tver.

"Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Dumbledore maintained eye contact with Tver throughout, yet Tver felt no discomfort.

"Tver Fawley. I dare say even young wizards who have not yet started school know your name."

Tver calmly shook hands with the legendary figure. Meeting for the first time the old man hailed as the greatest white wizard, he felt no pressure at all—he even felt somewhat relaxed.

Perhaps it was because he had ample experience with such situations?

"Please do not say that. Such praise is far too heavy for an old man."

Dumbledore turned toward the man in the turban.

"Allow me to introduce Quirinus Quirrell. He will be the new professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Quirrell had already risen to stand nearby. The muscles in his face twitched, producing a stiff smile. His eyes darted about, and even his body trembled slightly when he shook Tver's hand.

"When I heard... that there would be a teaching assistant... I was so happy I could barely sleep."

He spoke with a stutter, forcing Tver to spend twice the effort to understand him.

"I'm also looking forward to working with you, but that still requires Headmaster Dumbledore's approval, doesn't it?"

Dumbledore chuckled softly without saying anything, merely gesturing for Twer and Quirrell to sit.

Once the three had settled back into their seats, Dumbledore waved his wand across the table and asked, "What would you like to drink? Tea? Pumpkin juice? Or perhaps something stronger? I've heard Durmstrang students enjoy alcohol?"

"That is merely an outsider's prejudice. In truth, not every Durmstrang student likes to drink. Personally, I would much rather have a glass of pumpkin juice right now."

Twer met Dumbledore's gaze with bright eyes, his words seemingly carrying another meaning.

Dumbledore waved his wand thoughtfully, and a glass of pumpkin juice floated over to him.

Twer had long wanted to try the famed pumpkin juice. He eagerly accepted it and took a small sip. The sweet flavor immediately made his eyes light up.

Sweet and velvety, with a faint milky fragrance, it made him fall in love with the drink at once.

"It seems you like pumpkin juice very much. Shall I send you some? I have an entire large barrel of it here." Dumbledore noticed Twer's subtle reaction.

It seems you really enjoy fencing with words...

Twer sighed. People's prejudice against Durmstrang ran deeper than he had imagined; even Dumbledore was on guard.

"No. I do not like too much of a good thing."

"I rarely see a Durmstrang student as articulate as you."

Apparently tired of their riddle-like conversation, Dumbledore suddenly got straight to the point.

"Especially one who applied to be an assistant professor at Hogwarts. As far as I know, you are the first student to do so."

"So I am very curious. Can you answer my questions?"