The curtain fell as the Halloween banquet drew near. But Harry was taking Ron and Hermione to the ghosts' deathday feast. "How enviable. I've never been to a dead man's dinner," Malfoy drawled. So Tver took Malfoy with him toward the Great Hall.
The Hall was decorated much like the year before, full of amusing ornaments: pumpkins, skulls, tombstones, and other festive props. This time, though, at Tver's suggestion, the bats drifting across the enchanted ceiling had been replaced by his little imps.
So when he walked in, first-years stared in confusion while the students who'd heard ahead of time burst into loud cheers.
"Professor Fawley, hand over your secret candy stash!"
"This year I'm filling an entire bag with sweets!"
Tver let out a breath of laughter, lifted his wand, and flicked it. One by one, the little imps with brightly colored hair zipped out in neat formation.
Compared with last year, they were smaller, faster, and far more agile. The rules hadn't changed: if a student managed to hit one—even with a simple red or green spell—it would drop the delicious candy it carried.
Before long, students were already showing off their growing piles.
"Professor, the candy tastes even better this year!" Penelope said excitedly, cradling a fistful of bright sweets, one already in her mouth.
Percy stood beside her, smiling helplessly. After so many after-class training sessions, he could easily clear all the imps in the Hall by himself—if he weren't trying to be considerate of his classmates.
"As long as you like them."
Tver then noticed something unexpected: many students weren't sitting by House anymore. Instead, groups of three had gathered together, coordinating excited attacks on the imps.
Seeing Tver's look, Crystal quickly explained, "The imps are pretty quick. In teams, with even basic coordination, they have a much better chance. It also helps build teamwork."
Tver nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting. He hadn't expected this activity to bring such pleasant surprises. And it seemed anything with rewards boosted student enthusiasm. So maybe he could prepare rewards for regular class as well?
He pondered for a moment, rubbing his chin, then headed to the staff table.
Dumbledore sat in the center, watching the students' clever spell coordination with the other professors. This relaxed expression was rare. Ever since Tver added muggle-related topics to his weekly Transfiguration seminars, Dumbledore had been cramming muggle knowledge. As he put it, "For an old man who's spent most of his life at Hogwarts, only fresh knowledge and improving students can cheer me up."
"I didn't expect the students to improve this much, Tver. Your teaching methods are impressive."
The moment Tver sat down, Professor Flitwick leaned in with a raised glass.
"It's only been two months. There's only so much I can teach," Tver said, clinking his glass lightly against Flitwick's. "Their basics were already solid. Combat training is what made the difference."
Before he could pull his glass back, another one bumped into it so abruptly the wine nearly spilled.
"No need to be modest," Lockhart said with a bright smile. "Their progress is thanks to our guidance."
Flitwick shot him a dismissive look and ignored the self-satisfied Lockhart, continuing his meal and conversation with Tver.
"Lately the students have been asking me to teach them stronger magic to deal with your statues. But I've seen Minerva cast similar spells—they shouldn't be able to move this flexibly."
"Ahem."
"Professor McGonagall focuses on controlling large numbers. My magic boosts the combat ability of each individual statue. It's almost like I'm controlling them myself," Tver said.
"Ahem."
"I see. But with their current skills, could the students actually beat the statues? Even if they learned the right method?"
The students in the front rows immediately leaned in.
In class, they were practically flattened every time. Aside from a few exceptional sixth- and seventh-year teams who lasted a bit longer, most groups weren't doing much better than getting Cleansweeped.
"The goal has never been to defeat the statues. It's to use them to improve without limit."
"Take Halloween. Last year they just flung spells everywhere. This year they can coordinate smoothly, and even have the focus to catch falling candy."
Only then did the students finally grasp the purpose of the lessons. Even if they were beaten half to death each time, they were lasting longer with every session, and their teamwork kept improving.
Energy surged through them. They wished every class was Professor Fawley's so they could take on the statues again.
"Next year we'll definitely do even better!" a student in the front row blurted out.
"I look forward to it, Tver," Trelawney said with a smile.
"Ahem."
"I'm also looking forward to seeing the progress you bring them, Trelawney," Dumbledore added.
"Ahem."
Professor Flitwick, usually mild-tempered, finally snapped. He frowned at Lockhart, whose smile had gone stiff.
"If your throat's bothering you, Professor Lockhart, then go to the hospital wing."
Now that everyone's attention had shifted, Lockhart ignored Flitwick's irritation and looked instead at Tver, who was about to enjoy a cupcake.
"Well, with the students improving so quickly, they'll need a stage to show what they've learned. Why don't we organize something?"
"We could use their free time to teach things like dueling—material they don't get in regular classes. The students will surely love me—love these extra lessons."
He beamed hopefully.
Lately, though he couldn't figure out why, he'd clearly felt his popularity dropping fast. To save his image, he had no choice but to swallow his pride and try to pull Tver in to boost his reputation.
Tver, who only wanted to focus on the cupcake, sighed.
"Fine. Just don't take too much of their time. Their evening workload is heavy enough."
Satisfied, Lockhart finally left.
The nuisance gone, the banquet was winding down, and some students were already leaving the Great Hall.
Tver quickly picked up his knife and fork—
"Professors! You need to come quickly… something's happened on the third floor!" a young wizard shouted as he ran toward them.
Tver looked up, expression blank.