Unsurprisingly, the sixth-year students spread word of the class discussion during lunch. Students gathered in the Great Hall, chatting and laughing as they speculated about which roles they might take on.
Even the professors found themselves considering the three categories of roles.
"If they encounter enemies alone, won't they be at a disadvantage because of differing abilities? For instance, wouldn't a Disruptor lack offensive power?"
Professor Flitwick was the first to pose the question to Tver, though several other professors at the staff table were also watching him with interest.
"The division into three roles is only a general guideline," Tver replied. "Once they've gained experience, they can learn from their teammates' abilities and gradually master other aspects of combat. In the end, they can become both versatile and highly specialized."
He deliberately raised his voice so not only the professors but also the students sitting in the front rows could hear him clearly.
After all, in the wizarding world, focusing too narrowly in one area could be dangerous. A fighter with obvious weaknesses would only make it easier for opponents to exploit them. And Tver had no intention of making such a naïve mistake.
"Once the children graduate, they won't be able to gather like this again," Professor McGonagall said, following Flitwick's lead. "Does this sort of team-based structure still hold meaning for them?"
"It's mainly to help them get used to working in teams," Tver explained. "You know as well as I do how wide the power gap between wizards can be."
"For skilled Aurors, defeating several times their number of ordinary wizards is easy. But for Headmaster Dumbledore, the number of Aurors he could defeat simply depends on his mood."
"Please don't put it that way," Dumbledore said with a bashful wave of his hand. "I'm just an old man."
Of course, not a single professor at the table took him seriously. Tver continued in a clear, steady tone.
"That's why improving the students' teamwork skills is essential. It allows them to cooperate with anyone at any time—not just their regular teammates. This way, when they encounter stronger enemies, they won't be left powerless."
The professors exchanged looks of sudden understanding.
Strength was never absolute—it was always relative. As long as stronger opponents existed, whether wizards or magical creatures, cooperation was the key to survival.
If every student learned to work together, the bonds they built at school would strengthen even after they entered society. When danger came, they'd be better prepared to stand against it.
"I think you're just fearmongering," Professor Burbage from Muggle Studies said suddenly. "The wizarding world has been peaceful for so long—what danger could these students possibly face?"
"And you keep going on about enemies, enemies, enemies! The only foes these children ever deal with are gnomes in the garden!"
Believing that Durmstrang discriminated against Muggles, Burbage had long been at odds with Tver.
However, there was one belief of hers that he truly respected—her conviction that wizards and Muggles were fundamentally no different.
That kind of belief in equality had drawn heavy criticism from many in the wizarding world. Even wizards who rejected pure-blood ideals often still considered themselves inherently superior because of their magical abilities.
As a result, Burbage was a frequent contributor to The Daily Prophet, where she and others often debated these issues in print.
Still, that respect didn't mean Tver would tolerate baseless accusations.
"Staying within the school walls year-round, the only danger you've ever faced is a gnome. But that doesn't mean the students graduating and stepping into the wider world won't encounter far greater threats—even deadly ones."
"Then perhaps Professor Fawley could show us what exactly a deadly danger looks like?"
"As it happens, I have one in my office—"
"All right, that's enough, both of you," Dumbledore interrupted, ending their argument. "Anything that benefits the students can be part of the curriculum. Tver's intentions are good."
"And Tver," he added mildly, "Burbage has a point too. Don't neglect the standard coursework."
With the Headmaster stepping in to mediate, the professors dropped the matter.
But the students certainly didn't.
"Fred, remember to be more respectful next time, or I'll lead you straight into a trap!"
George, acting like a commander, patted Fred on the shoulder with a self-important air.
"As you wish!" Fred bowed like a servant. "Then allow me to help you with your meal!"
He snatched George's drumstick and bit off a large chunk without hesitation, completely unfazed by the bite marks already on it.
George stared blankly at his now-empty hand for two full seconds.
"You idiot! Let this great Supporter teach you a lesson!"
Hermione sighed and pushed her book further away, making sure to dodge the bits of bread flying through the air.
"You haven't even started class yet. How do you know what role you're suited for?"
"Whatever role it is, I can't take it now," Ron groaned, pulling out his wand, looking utterly miserable.
His already battered wand had snapped clean in half. Even taped back together, it was useless for casting spells. He'd already realized the problem during Transfiguration that morning.
But after the trouble he'd caused at home recently, he didn't even have the courage to write a letter, much less ask for money for a new wand.
"Professor Fawley seems to know a bit about wands," Hermione suggested. "Why don't you ask him?"
"Forget it. To a professor, a few Galleons isn't worth the effort," Ron muttered.
Though his relationship with the professor had improved last term, Ron still couldn't help feeling intimidated around him.
"Huff," Harry sighed as he slumped down beside them. "Hear anything interesting?"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts has new content," Hermione said, placing a roll in front of him. "What about you? Why are you only showing up now?"
They'd been stopped at the Great Hall entrance by a first-year named Colin Creevey—or rather, Harry had. So Ron and Hermione, in the spirit of self-preservation, had slipped away early to catch the latest gossip.
"Don't get me started," Harry groaned. "That Colin kid wanted an autograph—and then Malfoy showed up. That would've been bad enough, but Lockhart suddenly appeared, like my autograph was some kind of summoning spell! He dragged me over and made me take a picture with him."
"Did you sign it for Colin? I mean, the photo?" Ron teased, smirking.
Hermione shut her book, smiling as she watched Harry's expression darken.
"...I did not!" Harry shouted, half outraged, half exasperated.
"Alright," Hermione said, glancing at the clock, "signed or not, we still have class!"
She carefully tucked her textbooks into her bag, giving it an affectionate pat before standing up, excitement practically radiating from her.
The three of them headed toward the classroom.
Ron glanced at Hermione, who was practically skipping ahead.
"Are you really that excited about Lockhart's class? I just want Professor Fawley to be the one teaching us!"
"It's Professor Lockhart," Hermione huffed, cheeks puffed out. "Professor Fawley's lessons are great too, but Professor Lockhart's class is something to look forward to!"
"No need to argue about it," Harry said, pointing to the back of the classroom. "As long as both Lockhart and Fawley are teaching this class, we're set."
Tver smiled and gave them a friendly wave.