Back in the Great Hall, dinner carried on undisturbed.
If anything, the excitement had only grown. With all the students gathered, word of Harry and Ron's latest escapade had spread through the hall within half an hour.
"All I can tell you is that they weren't expelled," Tver said quickly in response to Hermione's anxious questioning. "If you want the details, ask them after the feast."
If he waited any longer, the pudding would be gone.
The small witch puffed her cheeks in frustration and relayed the professor's words to the table, which in turn confirmed to everyone that Harry and Ron had indeed caused trouble again.
The atmosphere immediately turned livelier. Nearly every student was talking about the daring duo while continuing to eat with gusto.
Tver, however, found the pudding far more interesting than the gossip.
"Headmaster, would you like to try the pumpkin pudding?"
"No, I've already—"
"Mind if I try some?"
Lockhart suddenly appeared beside him, nearly knocking poor Professor Flitwick off his seat.
"No."
Tver pulled the pudding back before Lockhart could touch it, flatly refusing.
Lockhart's dazzling smile froze mid-expression. Remembering the suffocating pressure Tver had exuded during their meeting in the Headmaster's office, he wisely swallowed any irritation.
Even if Tver hadn't earned a single award, he wasn't someone to provoke.
"No problem at all," Lockhart said smoothly, giving Flitwick a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I suppose you must really enjoy these student desserts then."
Dumbledore, quietly eating his own pudding, paused mid-bite: "?"
"If you have something to say, say it," Tver said, setting his spoon down. "I'm not like you—I don't have time for idle chatter with people who don't matter."
Lockhart ignored the jab, shifting immediately to business.
"Ahem. I've been thinking—it's not ideal to split Defence Against the Dark Arts into pure theory and practice. So, I'd like to make a small adjustment."
Tver, of course, understood the logic—but wasn't that division because of Lockhart's incompetence? If the man were remotely capable, Tver would have happily offloaded more of the practical work onto him.
"And what brilliant idea do you have in mind?"
Hearing what sounded almost like a compliment, Lockhart's confidence soared. He gestured animatedly, looking rather pleased with himself.
"I managed to buy—well, capture—a group of nasty little pixies! In the spirit of good education and not wasting resources, I plan to demonstrate how to deal with them in class."
Tver looked at him with open amusement.
In the story he remembered, Lockhart had indeed unleashed a swarm of pixies on the students—and chaos had followed. He hadn't dared attempt another practical lesson since.
Despite multiple warnings during the hiring process, he still hadn't learned his lesson.
Still, Tver thought, perhaps it was best to let him fail spectacularly once. After that, he'd likely behave himself.
Lockhart, meanwhile, was still rambling, trying to sound persuasive.
"You see, if we just focus on theory—"
"I agree."
Lockhart blinked, caught off guard. "I know it goes against what we discussed, but—wait, did you just say you agree?"
"Of course." Tver smiled pleasantly. "Your first class is tomorrow afternoon, isn't it? I do hope you don't mind me attending."
"Mind? Not at all!" Lockhart's grin returned, brighter than ever. "You're more than welcome to observe! I promise it'll be a class no one will ever forget!"
Like an overexcited bird, he flapped his hands and practically skipped back to his seat.
"You really plan to sit in on that lesson?" Flitwick asked, unable to hide his skepticism. "Forgive me for saying so, but even after just a short time around that bestselling author, it's clear he's… a bit excessive."
"I still ought to see it for myself," Tver said, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips.
Just then, Dumbledore stood and began his customary start-of-term speech.
As usual, he reminded everyone of the rules regarding the Forbidden Forest and certain restricted corridors.
Then, to the delight of many of the female students, he introduced Professor Gilderoy Lockhart.
"This year, we'll be joined by a new professor—Professor Lockhart—who will handle the theoretical portion of Defence Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore announced. "Professor Fawley will be responsible for the practical instruction. The details of the course will be explained to you by both professors once classes begin."
According to the schedule, Tver and Lockhart would alternate teaching each week. In other words, Tver would teach half the students this week, and the remaining half the next. That meant only six classes a week—about the same workload as when Professor Quirrell held the post last year.
Lockhart rose to his feet with a gleaming smile, accepting the applause that rippled through the hall.
"Thank you very much for the introduction, Headmaster. I'm absolutely thrilled to have been invited to this wonderful school and to share some of my professional expertise with all of you."
He turned slightly, the smile never leaving his face. "However, it seems our esteemed Headmaster made a small mistake—my portion will also include practical demonstrations. Think of it as a perfect opportunity for your young Professor Fawley to observe a master at work."
The Weasley twins exchanged glances and mimed retching in unison. Several boys booed openly, though the disapproving glares from the girls quickly stifled them.
"Professor Lockhart probably… probably just wants to show off his skills," Hermione said uncertainly, torn between her admiration for both professors.
That explanation seemed to satisfy most of the girls, who nodded in agreement.
Lockhart, however, hadn't expected Tver to be so well-liked. One tiny jab at his colleague and the students had immediately turned on him.
Sensing the shift in the room, he hastily ended his remarks, sat back down, and fixed his smile in place as Dumbledore led everyone in the school song—pretending nothing awkward had happened at all.
The feast ended with the hall filled with laughter and song.
Tver bid his colleagues goodnight and returned to his office. The decor was much the same as last year's. After a quick bit of tidying, he sat down in his chair and rolled up his sleeve.
On his wrist, the curse he had long kept suppressed was stirring restlessly again.
"That bastard Marvolio," he muttered. "Would've been nice if he'd mentioned that the Defence Against the Dark Arts curse grows stronger every year."
Sure enough, with the start of the new term, the curse's power had intensified.
No wonder past professors never lasted more than a year—its strength clearly increased in the second.
Still, Tver's vitality remained abundant; suppressing it posed no real difficulty.
Even so, the secret behind the badge needed to be uncovered soon.
If he let this drag on for years, the curse's strength would one day become truly dangerous.