NOVEL WEB Chapter 6: Hogwarts
July 31st.
Tver arrived half an hour early, opting to apparate directly to the gates of Hogwarts. He chose apparition over the more convenient Floo Powder simply because using Floo Powder was not particularly elegant. Tver, dressed formally, did not want to appear before anyone covered in soot.
As a Durmstrang alumnus, he knew he needed to be cautious around everyone at Hogwarts. Moreover, under his teacher's influence, image management when dealing with outsiders was always paramount.
However, he arrived a bit too early; the gates were still closed, and there was no one to guide him as the letter had promised. He sighed in resignation. Because of Rowena Ravenclaw's name appearing in that book, Tver had been studying it recently.
However, there were no more instances of his brain being controlled, and the book's content was not substantively helpful, being more of an overview—almost as superficial as his previous life's thesis.
"Good morning, you must be Mr. Fawley?" As Tver was internally grumbling, an elderly yet graceful witch appeared beside him.
The witch wore square glasses, her black hair curled and tied into a high bun, and she was dressed in a meticulous deep green robe, looking every bit the stern teacher.
"Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts. You may call me Professor McGonagall." Noticing Tver's appraising look, she introduced herself promptly.
Memories long buried rushed back to Tver; Professor McGonagall was well-known in his previous life, though her expression was more indifferent than the one portrayed in the films.
"Just Tver is fine, thank you for coming to guide me," Tver replied with a warm smile to Professor McGonagall.
His demeanor and actions not quite fitting those of a typical Durmstrang, Professor McGonagall's tightly pursed lips relaxed slightly as she nodded at him.
"Professor Quirrell and Headmaster Dumbledore are waiting for you; let's go inside."
"I hope I'm not late." Tver followed Professor McGonagall into the school he had long dreamed of visiting.
Professor McGonagall did not intend to introduce Hogwarts to him, merely answering offhandedly, "They are quite looking forward to this interview."
Her expression remained somewhat indifferent, perhaps reflecting some reservations about his Durmstrang background.
It was unclear what Dumbledore might think.
They hurried through the castle, where the usually mischievous staircases behaved impeccably in the presence of the Deputy Headmistress, naturally leading them to the eighth floor.
"Lemon Sherbet," Professor McGonagall pronounced the password.
The gargoyle at the entrance leaped aside, and the wall behind split in two, revealing a slowly ascending spiral staircase.
"Go ahead, they are waiting for you in the headmaster's office."
"Thank you very much for your guidance," Tver said, bowing slightly before stepping onto the staircase.
As the stairs gently ascended to the top, a gleaming wooden door appeared before him. He took two steps forward, and the wooden door swung open automatically.
Before him was a quaint yet exquisitely furnished circular office. To the left, the walls were adorned with portraits of former Hogwarts headmasters, all squinting and scrutinizing him as he appeared.
On the right was a row of bookshelves and a curtain, obscuring his view. Beyond them stood a long table, topped with an array of peculiar silver artifacts, continuously spinning and emitting puffs of smoke.
Behind the table, a golden-red phoenix perched on a stand, tilting its head to look at him. In front of the table sat a young man wearing a large scarf, his hands clasped in front of his chest, his body occasionally shivering.
Behind the desk was an old man with white hair and a beard. His long beard was obscured by the table, but his deep blue eyes shone brightly through half-moon glasses, fixedly gazing at Tver.
"Welcome, traveler from afar," Dumbledore said, approaching Tver with an agility that belied his age. "Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts."
Dumbledore maintained eye contact with Tver, who felt no discomfort.
"Tver Fawley, I dare say, even the youngest wizards who haven't started school yet know your name."
Tver shook hands calmly with the legendary figure, feeling no pressure in meeting the man revered as the greatest white wizard, rather he felt quite at ease.
Perhaps it was his wealth of experience in such situations?
"Please, don't say that; such praise is too burdensome for an old man."
Dumbledore turned to look at the hooded man beside him.
"Let me introduce you to Quirinus Quirrell, who will be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
Quirrell, already standing to the side, twitched a muscle in his face, revealing a stiff smile. His eyes darted away, and his body trembled slightly as he shook hands with Tver.
"I heard... there's an assistant... I'm so excited I can hardly sleep."
He stuttered as he spoke, and Tver had to concentrate twice as hard to understand him.
"I, too, look forward to working with you, but we still need Headmaster Dumbledore's approval, don't we?"
Dumbledore chuckled softly, not speaking, but motioning for Tver and Quirrell to sit down.
Once seated again across the table, Dumbledore waved his wand and asked, "What would you like to drink? Tea? Pumpkin juice? Or perhaps some liquor? I hear that students from Durmstrang like their drink?"
"That's just a stereotype; not all students from Durmstrang enjoy drinking. I, for one, would much prefer a glass of pumpkin juice right now."
Tver met Dumbledore's gaze intently, his words carrying an underlying meaning.
Dumbledore, thoughtful, waved his wand, and a glass of pumpkin juice floated toward him.
Tver had been eager to try the famous pumpkin juice and, without waiting, took a small sip, his eyes lighting up at the sweet taste.
The juice was sweet and creamy, with a hint of milkiness, and he fell in love with it instantly.
"It seems you really enjoy pumpkin juice. Would you like me to send you a barrel? I have plenty," Dumbledore noted Tver's subtle reaction.
'Seems you enjoy a good play on words...'
Tver sighed. The prejudices against Durmstrang were deeper than he imagined, even Dumbledore seemed cautious.
"No, thanks. I don't like to overindulge."
"It's rare to meet a Durmstrang student who speaks as well as you do." Seemingly tired of cryptic conversations, Dumbledore got straight to the point. "Especially one applying to be an assistant at Hogwarts. To my knowledge, you are the first to do so. So, I'm curious, can you resolve my doubts?"