Roger Davies was the only one hanging upside down.
While the other students merely felt a bit rattled, he was in genuine physical distress.
Seeing how Davies’s face had turned beet-red from the blood rushing to his head, Tver quickly cast an ordinary Levitation Charm to lower them all back down.
*Almost ended up in Azkaban for murdering a student…*
Giving them a moment to collect themselves, Tver casually dispelled the magic surrounding the area.
“I imagine you’ve just experienced what a real duel feels like.
Tell me, what are your thoughts?”
Still seated casually on the desk, Tver watched as the students exchanged glances, looking back and forth without anyone speaking up.
He had no choice but to call on someone.
“Davies, I think you gained the deepest insight today.
Care to share some of your wisdom with your classmates?”
At the mention of his name, Davies immediately shrank into his collar, the flush on his face blanching noticeably.
He scanned the expectant eyes around him, and upon realizing that no one intended to bail him out, he muttered tentatively, “Don’t just stand there like an idiot?”
“Precisely!” Tver nodded in approval.
“No matter how fast an opponent’s magic is, its trajectory is straight—well, mostly straight.
That means as long as you maintain effective movement, you can evade the vast majority of curses.
“Of course, if you run straight into an oncoming jinx like a fool, not even Headmaster Dumbledore will be able to save you.”
The classroom erupted into lighthearted laughter.
“However, that introduces another problem.
Can anyone guess what it is?” Tver let them chuckle for a moment before posing the question.
George was just about to shout out an answer when Fred clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Raise your hand, idiot!”
Then, right before George’s incredulous gaze, Fred thrust his own hand into the air.
Once Tver gave him a nod, Fred projected his voice loudly across the room.
“Professor, I reckon that if you step into a trap while darting around, you’d be far better off just standing still.”
Tver offered him a round of appreciative applause.
“Spot on.
Battlefields are almost always chaotic.
When maneuvering, you must not only watch your opponent, but also mind your footing.”
“Five points to Gryffindor.
It seems the two of you speak from vast experience.”
Fred and George thrust their chins up proudly, basking in the snickers of their peers.
Just then, the bell rang to signal the end of the period.
It was just so brilliant!
Adolescent students, brimming with the urge to show off, were eager to master every dueling technique on the spot.
In their minds, they could already picture replacing Professor Foley and taking on an entire crowd all by themselves!
“Well then.
Today you’ve had a brief taste of the four pillars of combat: footwork and positioning, casting speed, personal defenses, and teamwork.”
“There’s no need to rush, though.
We have an entire year to master these four fundamentals.
In a year’s time, we’ll stage another duel to test your progress.”
A surge of fighting spirit immediately ignited among the students.
*Storm Hogwarts and take down Tver!*
Tver looked quite pleased by their enthusiasm, though he could almost swear a pair of devilish horns was sprouting from his own head.
“Let us start with the first pillar: positioning.
Your homework assignment is to consider how to maneuver effectively, as well as how to neutralize an opponent’s movement.”
“The latter part is for those willing to stretch their minds.
The most inventive answers will earn a modest special reward.” He flashed a textbook professor’s smile, stoking their anticipation.
A few top-tier students exchanged glances, their eyes burning with a fire hotter than the duel itself.
Whatever Professor Foley’s reward was, they were determined to claim it!
“All you need to submit is an essay outlining your thoughts.
There is no required length—even a few words will suffice.
But remember: they must be your own original ideas.”
No word count requirement was, in truth, the most devious trap of all.
None of the students were audacious enough to turn in a paper containing merely a few sentences, so they would inevitably be plagued by constant anxiety over whether their work was long enough.
Naturally, they would only end up writing more!
Tver clapped his hands, breaking them out of their reluctant trance.
“Very well.
That concludes our lesson for today.
Off you go, or you’ll be late for your next class.”
The schedule at Hogwarts was rather demanding.
With Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration next on their roster, they would have preferred being hung upside down again over walking into her classroom late.
Tver, however, was now a free man.
Having only this single class scheduled for the day, the remainder of his time was his own.
Grabbing his copy of *Fundamentals of Wizard’s Chess*, Tver ambled through the corridors toward the library.
With classes in session, the castle was remarkably tranquil, broken only by the muffled sounds of students casting spells behind classroom doors.
Similarly, the library was nearly deserted.
He decided against looking for books on Wizard’s Chess.
Hogwarts housed a thousand years of ancient lore; reading about chess here would be an utter waste.
Instead, he picked out a volume titled *Casting Techniques*.
Tver flipped through it briefly and found its contents fairly elementary, focusing primarily on various spellcasting mechanics.
It was roughly on par with what he had just taught in class.
The only remarkable thing about it was its age: penned eight hundred years ago.
Hogwarts had been founded a mere two centuries prior to its writing.
Ancient tomes like this were typically kept under lock and key; had Tver not been a professor, he never would have gained access to it.
Finding a secluded corner by the window, Tver settled down to read the text, which was inscribed entirely in ancient runes.
Sure enough, the volumes at Hogwarts were something else.
Tver discovered scattered mentions of the four elements within its pages.
The author held the doctrine of the four elements in high esteem, but having reached an impasse after years of fruitless study, he could only rely on his limited understanding to produce this introductory handbook on *Casting Techniques*.
It covered various aspects of the four elements, albeit from a rather shallow perspective.
Its sole redeeming feature was a single assertion:
Mastery of the four elements did not hinge upon ancient magic.
It transcended spellcraft itself, existing closer to the primeval source of magical power.
No matter the casting method—as ancient times boasted a myriad of approaches, ancient magic being merely one of the more widespread, alongside blood-based casting and numerous other arts—all were fundamentally composed of the four elements.
Tver did not know whether this applied to modern magic as well, but the premise offered him some relief.
He had worried that studying the four elements would inextricably tie him to ancient magic.
After all, ancient magic had fallen out of favor precisely because it was notoriously difficult to learn and even harder to master.
Even an old scholar steeped in the study of ancient magic for decades could rarely claim mastery over more than ten ancient spells.
It was akin to a Muggle trying to learn magic purely from a textbook; such rigid methodology had severely capped the wizarding population.
In ancient times, only those blessed with extraordinary innate talent could become wizards.
Thus, although ancient magic possessed slightly greater potency, Tver had no desire to pursue it.
With his current level of power, he had little need for the modest amplification offered by ancient arts; modern magic could achieve identical results just as effectively.
Spending the entire afternoon at it, Tver read through *Casting Techniques* from cover to cover and scoured the library shelves, but failed to find any other books of value.
As dinner approached, he abandoned the search and made his way to the Great Hall.
The students’ attitude toward him, however, had undergone a complete hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.
“Good evening, Professor Foley!”
“Hello.”
Yet another student he didn’t recognize greeted him brightly.
Tver masked his bewilderment with a polite nod and smile.
Just this morning, they had been whispering and pointing fingers at him, yet by late afternoon, they had turned remarkably warm and courteous.
Professor Flitwick appeared out of nowhere, giving him a friendly pat on the waist.
“Tver, I hear you strung up an entire classroom and gave them a thrashing?”