"Tea or pumpkin juice?"
Tver sat down naturally in Dumbledore's chair, completely ignoring the disapproving glare from the phoenix, Fawkes.
Lockhart, however, was instantly captivated by the phoenix.
"Ah, a phoenix—of course, that's obvious," he said with a self-satisfied smile. "I once encountered one in Egypt, weakened and near death. Thankfully, with my assistance, it achieved a glorious rebirth. You can read the full story in my book Break with a Banshee, Chapter Three."
"Even without your help, a phoenix can rebirth itself just fine."
Tver's tone was cold as he directed a teacup to fill itself, then sent it floating to the table, bumping repeatedly against Lockhart's head.
Sensing Tver's growing irritation with his rambling, Lockhart gave an awkward laugh.
"The teacups in the Headmaster's office certainly have... character."
He took a sip of tea, and the tension in the room eased slightly.
Tver couldn't explain it. He'd had endless patience with even the dullest of students, yet with Lockhart, he found himself unwilling to waste another word.
"Let's start with a self-introduction," he said helplessly. The interview had to move forward somehow.
He regretted it immediately.
The phrase "self-introduction" was like a trigger for Lockhart.
The man instantly flashed a wide, polished grin—eight perfect teeth, exactly like the photo Tver had seen in the newspaper, not a bit of gum showing.
"I, Gilderoy Lockhart, Knight of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—though I don't go around boasting about that. I didn't banish the Wailing Banshee of Bandon with a smile!"
"Then what did you use?" Tver asked dryly.
Lockhart's grin froze for a second, but his professional confidence returned almost immediately.
"With my powerful magic, of course!"
"Right," Tver replied, noncommittal. "And how do you plan to structure the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons?"
Lockhart clearly had been waiting for that question. He cleared his throat twice, full of self-assurance.
"Teaching students means showing them spectacular magic—how to face dangerous creatures and counter offensive spells," he began enthusiastically. "For example, I plan to bring some dark creatures into the classroom, let the students experience firsthand what it's like to face powerful enemies they've never encountered before. Then I'll—well, I'll coolly teach them how to handle it!"
"Honestly, I've heard quite a few things about Defence Against the Dark Arts—and experienced my fair share too. I know the students haven't had a proper professor for this course. But rest assured—"
"Just to remind you," Tver interrupted coldly, "I was the one teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts last year. And I'll continue to do so."
"Ah, haha—what a coincidence, ha ha." Lockhart forced a laugh. "First time I've heard of anyone teaching this subject two years in a row. But in that case, are you still hiring a new professor?"
"Of course," Tver said evenly. "You and I will share the teaching duties. How those duties are divided depends on how well you perform in this interview."
Lockhart's lips twisted in mild irritation.
Though the title of Durmstrang graduate made him uneasy, Tver's youthful face made him look like a fresh graduate himself. To Lockhart, that meant he didn't deserve to take the lead.
"I'm not questioning your abilities," Lockhart said, puffing himself up, "but I would appreciate some respect for a recipient of the Order of Merlin."
"Constantly waving your awards around," Tver replied coolly, "only convinces people they're all you've got."
...
When Dumbledore returned, he was surprised to find only Tver in the headmaster's office, staring blankly into the eyes of the phoenix, Fawkes.
"Where's Lockhart?"
"He said he needed to prepare for a book signing and left early." After a moment's hesitation, Tver decided to spare the man a little dignity for his hasty retreat.
He reached out to tease Fawkes, but the phoenix turned its head away in disdain.
"You should spend more time with it," Dumbledore said, gently stroking the bird's feathers. "So, you finished interviewing Lockhart?"
Tver recalled the excruciating twenty minutes he'd just endured.
Most of it had been Lockhart bragging about his own achievements, dodging questions, and constantly redirecting the conversation back to what he'd written in his books.
If memory were the only qualification, Lockhart would have been outstanding—he could recall every detail from every book he'd ever published.
Unfortunately, Tver now seriously doubted whether the man could manage even basic tasks like handing out exam papers or explaining lessons.
Still, at least he was a living person with a will of his own, which was better than Tver single-handedly handling all seven years of students.
"If you consider that an interview, then yes—it's done."
"And your evaluation?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"In some respects," Tver said with a twitch of his lips, "he's not even as useful as my dummy."
"Oh?" Dumbledore's eyes lit up with interest. "And compared to your dummy, how capable would you say he is?"
He was well aware of Tver's training dummies—especially after Snape's complaints about their strength back when Tver had "borrowed" the Philosopher's Stone.
Tver thought for a moment, recalling his dummy that could only repeat phrases, and then Lockhart parroting lines straight from his own books. "Maybe... not even half as capable?" he said uncertainly.
"That's still better than nothing!" Dumbledore said, sounding genuinely pleased. "Lockhart is the only one who actually applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position this year."
"Perhaps he sees it as another adventure to write about—a year of teaching before publishing another book."
"That's fine by me," Dumbledore said lightly, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Hopefully he'll give me a good mention in it—might help salvage my poor, battered reputation."
He glanced at Tver with amusement. "Though I doubt you'd want to be portrayed as a gossip in his book, would you?"
He'd be lucky to even manage to include me at all, Tver thought dryly.
"What do you mean? Am I gossiping now?"
"It's about Snape," Dumbledore said mildly. "You know him quite well, don't you? He's been complaining that you've been teasing him about his past."
"Teasing?"
Tver almost laughed. He didn't believe Snape would ever use such a mild word—more likely he'd said "harassment" or "blackmail."
Still, the image of Snape acting like a sulky child running to complain to a parent was too amusing. Tver couldn't help but chuckle aloud.
"My mother told me plenty about their old grudges," he said. "And I'm sure she's not the only one. A few of their classmates from that generation probably remember those stories too."
"But at least none of the current students know," Dumbledore reminded him gently. "It would be best not to spread such stories around the school."
"Of course," Tver said easily. "If that's all, I'll be heading back now?"
He had a Dark Lord waiting at home, and he wasn't entirely confident that Marvolio would stay obedient in his absence.
"Tver," Dumbledore called just as he reached the door. "I've arranged what you requested. Would you like to take a look?"
He paused to think for a moment. "No," he said finally. "I'll wait until the end of the summer. Better to save the anticipation."