Chapter 14: Stereotypes

On the first day of school, it was also Tver's first official day of work.

Despite spending quite some time playing through the game last night, he still followed his body clock and got up early.

The weather today was pleasant, and Tver brought along a copy of "Wizard's Chess Basics" to the Great Hall.

He had just borrowed it from the library, which earned him a peculiar glance and delayed him a bit because Madam Pince hadn't opened the library so early.

There weren't many students in the Great Hall; they seemed to still be in holiday mode, not yet accustomed to the schedule of study life.

The professors, on the other hand, were rather early. Quirrell was hiding on the edge, eating breakfast with a heavy heart, while Professor Sprout had already finished her meal, greeted everyone, and went to tend to the herbs in the greenhouse.

"Good morning, Tver," Professor Flitwick warmly invited Tver to sit next to him. "I hope you didn't lose sleep from nervousness."

"It seems you're quite experienced in this?" Tver joked as he sat down.

Flitwick chuckled along.

"I don't remember my first day of teaching, but when several professors first arrived at Hogwarts, I still remember how nervous they were. But this is the first time I've seen a new professor bring Wizard's Chess Basics. Are you planning to teach Wizard's Chess in class?"

Tver picked up a piece of bread from the table, carefully and evenly spread blueberry jam on it, and replied casually.

"I just suddenly became interested in Wizard's Chess. Do you play Wizard's Chess? We could exchange ideas if you have time."

Flitwick shrugged; Wizard's Chess wasn't as enjoyable as dueling in his opinion.

"Well, I can't teach you that. I haven't played Wizard's Chess, but you can ask Professor McGonagall; she's very knowledgeable about it."

Tver pondered the scene of asking Professor McGonagall for advice.

"Professor McGonagall, could you teach me how to play Wizard's Chess?"

"Why the sudden interest in learning this?"

"Oh, it's because I want to tackle the chessboard you've arranged."

Better not. Learning Wizard's Chess from the person who set up the chessboard would be too easy to expose himself.

Tver shook his head, dismissed this impractical idea, and focused on his breakfast.

It wasn't lavish, much poorer compared to last night's banquet, but it was better than the fare at Durmstrang.

A few Ravenclaw girls gathered together, whispering for quite some time before finally selecting one girl to step forward.

The girl's face was flushed to the tips of her ears, shy yet determined as she walked up to Tver amidst her friends' encouragement.

"Professor Fawley, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Tver had noticed their situation earlier, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "But you've already asked one, so that counts as your question."

A puzzled expression formed on the girl's head, her smile freezing on her face.

The other girls were similarly bewildered, looking at Tver and the chuckling Professor Flitwick.

After a moment of laughter, Flitwick spoke up, "Professor Fawley was joking with you, Penelope. Feel free to ask him your question."

Then he introduced Penelope to Tver, "This is Penelope Clearwater, an excellent student from Ravenclaw."

With their Head of House speaking up and seeing no objection from Professor Fawley, Penelope mustered up her courage again.

"May I ask what you will be teaching us in class?"

It wasn't entirely their fault; the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors in recent years had been temporary, and their courses were disjointed.

As diligent Ravenclaws, they still hoped for some advance notice.

"What year are you all in?" Tver inquired.

Penelope didn't grasp the meaning behind Tver's words and hesitated before answering, "We're all fourth years."

"I'm sorry then, I only handle classes for years one to three. For fourth year and above, you'll need to inquire with Professor Quirrell over there," Tver shook his head.

The group of girls couldn't hide their disappointment, and Penelope even sighed heavily.

She was about to turn away when her companions behind her stopped her, pointing towards Tver, prompting them to remember their initial question.

"Oh, can we know your age? You seem very young after all."

"It's not a secret," Tver observed the expectant looks on these young witches. "I've just graduated this year, so I'm only eighteen."

Eighteen!

Penelope was so astonished she couldn't even find words.

To think she was just four years younger than a professor! If Hogwarts had students who repeated years, they could end up older than the professors.

"But you just graduated, shouldn't we have seen you at Hogwarts in the past few years?" Penelope immediately noticed the problem; a student as striking as Tver would have been unforgettable.

The surrounding girls breathed a sigh of relief, thinking Tver was playing another prank on them. However, his next words surprised them even more.

"Because I didn't attend Hogwarts; I studied at Durmstrang."

Instantly, silence fell over the scene. Penelope and her friends were shocked, mouths agape wide enough to swallow an owl whole.

"Don't let Professor Fawley's youth fool you; he's the most outstanding graduate Durmstrang has ever seen," Flitwick couldn't help but interject.

He detested people judging others by their appearance. Back in his dueling days, many wizards would mock his height. Though he used his stature to his advantage and thoroughly thrashed them, it ingrained in him a disdain for being underestimated.

"The problem is, Durmstrang is a school that teaches Dark Arts!"

Penelope exclaimed, drawing the attention of the students in the Great Hall who were in the midst of their meal.

"Oh, so that's it," Flitwick shrugged indifferently. "Since Headmaster Dumbledore brought him in, it means you don't have to worry about being exposed to magic you shouldn't."

Compared to the students, seasoned professors like Flitwick had delved into Dark Arts long ago; it's just that Tver's research went deeper.

In truth, once one reached a certain level of proficiency, magic ceased to be categorized as light or dark. It was the intentions of the user that truly determined the morality.

But the students couldn't grasp this ideology. In their minds, those who used Dark Arts were Dark Wizards.

Though there was no evidence suggesting Durmstrang students who studied Dark Arts would definitely use them, it also couldn't guarantee that Tver hadn't dabbled in them!

So, Penelope and her friends labeled Tver as a "Dark Wizard in training," painting a worse picture than even Slytherin house had of him.

Tver had anticipated this reaction. He knew it wasn't just the students; the British magical community held a stereotype against Durmstrang that he couldn't dispel overnight.