After Tver finished speaking, he divided the students into two groups right before their puzzled eyes, each consisting of members from different houses. This would be a perfect opportunity to test the potential for inter-house cooperation.
A waist-high barrier materialized between the two groups, forming a narrow path that kept them separated.
Tver stepped onto the path, walking forward as he addressed them. "You will be divided into left and right teams for a snowball battle.
"Your snowballs are only those you control with Levitation Charms. But don't worry about running out—when an old snowball breaks, a new one will appear automatically.
"The play area is limited to within the golden membrane and the barriers.
"Your objective is simple: attack every opponent on the other side while ensuring you don't get hit yourselves!
"Once you're struck, your snowball will shatter completely, meaning you're eliminated and must retreat to the sidelines."
By then, Tver had crossed to the opposite side of the golden barrier, giving the students a moment to absorb the rules.
"A reminder," he continued, "the attack spells within the snowballs have been weakened, but the impact still won't feel pleasant. So—"
"Give it your all!"
Watching the fierce determination ignite on both sides, Tver nodded with satisfaction. When he'd first arrived at Hogwarts, he'd worried that its students might be too coddled. But now it was clear—no matter the year, courage wasn't lacking among them. It only needed to be awakened.
Raising his wand skyward, he sent a golden orb soaring above their heads. It glowed brightly against the dimming sky.
"The battle will end once all opponents are eliminated—or when dinner begins. The team with the most remaining players will be the victor and receive…" He smiled faintly. "The Christmas gift I've prepared for you!"
"So—are you ready?"
The students erupted in a chaotic roar, shouting all at once in excitement. Despite the noise, their answer was unanimous.
"We're ready!"
"Good. Then listen to my command!"
The students quickly fell silent. Their expressions turned serious, wands raised to their chests.
"Three!"
They took a deep breath, anticipation mounting.
"Two!"
Hands tightened around their wands, snowballs hovering in place as eyes locked onto their targets. The professor's gift was finally within reach.
"One!"
The golden orb burst apart, flooding the field with a brilliant, gentle light. It illuminated everything—enough for each student to see their opponents clearly.
In that instant, dozens of snowballs shot through the air like cannon fire, striking multiple students in a flurry of white explosions.
But as the battle continued and their numbers thinned, a collective frustration swept through the students.
"Why is this so hard to control?!"
Percy watched his snowball miss again, the imp on his head promptly conjuring a new one. The Levitation Charm was supposed to be simple—he'd mastered it back in his first year, even nonverbally. Yet the moment his snowball crossed the center line, it became almost impossible to control, making him feel like a novice all over again.
"Mixed magic isn't something you can just pick up easily," Flint mocked from nearby, his tone dripping with disdain. "This is basically an advanced form of spellcasting—not something you fifth-year brats can handle."
Before Percy could respond, the imp on Flint's head cut in, clearly unimpressed.
"You're proud of being a sixth-year who can't even manage a proper Levitation Charm?!" it snapped, smacking him sharply on the head. "And you've got the nerve to talk down to others? You've already been hit!"
Flint froze in realization—literally. A snowball had struck him squarely moments ago, his body now encased in icy stiffness. Only the imp's smack broke the freeze, leaving him blinking in embarrassment.
Penelope across the field waved apologetically at him, shivering from the cold, and shouted, "Sorry! I was aiming for Percy!"
As time went on, more and more students gathered along the sidelines, crowding around Tver and loudly complaining about how difficult the spell was—and—
"Professor, I got hit by my own teammate's snowball! Can I have another chance?"
"This is already bad enough! You have no idea how unlucky I was—I was standing in the front row and got caught in a pincer attack right away! Took at least five snowballs—three of them from behind!"
Tver had actually expected this kind of chaos. They'd only been exposed to this magic for an afternoon, and achieving even this level of performance was already more than he'd hoped for. With a bit more time to adjust, there would be far fewer "friendly fire" incidents.
"Ahem." He raised his hand, silencing the complaints. "This should also serve as a reminder—on a real battlefield, imprecise spellcasting can easily wound your allies."
"That's why large-scale wizard duels are either fought in open terrain or without using destructive spells."
"Most magic doesn't distinguish between friend and foe."
Of course, adding that feature was simple enough—just mix in a little soul-based magic~
"Professor, will we have more classes like this?" a young witch asked cautiously.
The question instantly quieted the entire group. All eyes turned toward Tver, filled with anticipation.
Before this, their excitement over Professor Fawley's class had only been because Professor Quirrell was so terrible—they'd just wanted a normal, competent teacher. But after this unique and exhilarating lesson, they all shared a single thought—
Professor, please get rid of Quirrell!
But Tver only shook his head.
"This was decided before term began. Professor Quirrell is still responsible for your lessons. In fact, what we did today already counts as breaking school regulations."
The students' faces fell in unison. A few of the younger witches even lowered their heads and began to sniffle softly.
Had students' acting skills always been this good?
Amused, Tver relented with a smile. "Don't worry. This training ground will remain available until the end of the Christmas break. You can have snowball fights here anytime you like."
The young witches immediately looked up, their eyes lighting with delight. Their earlier tears were gone without a trace.
"Will we still get the special snowballs?"
"Of course. The little imps will hand them out then. But keep in mind, the process consumes a fair bit of magical energy, so don't overdo it."
The topic quickly shifted to the imps themselves—a subject the students both loved and hated.
"Professor, will this imp stay on my head forever?"
"Yeah! They're so cute!"
"Are these imps our Christmas presents? I really want one!"
"If only mine wouldn't talk so bluntly…"
"…"
At that, the young wizards fell into an awkward silence, their expressions hard to describe.
"The imps only appear when you enter this area," Tver explained. "They drain quite a bit of your magic, so it's not suitable for them to stay around all the time."
In truth, it wasn't just their magic being drained—it was their energy and focus as well. Tver had already noticed several students yawning. For them, this afternoon had felt like pulling an all-nighter, and he didn't dare continue much longer. Otherwise, the Hospital Wing would soon be filled with exhausted students.
Just then, cheers erupted from the snowball arena—the battle had finally ended!
Tver looked up. Only a handful of students remained, mostly sixth and seventh years. Among them, fifth-year Percy stood out prominently.
Still, he held his head high with pride—he'd managed to hit several upper-year students and dodge over a dozen snowballs himself. He was easily the hero of his team's victory.
Tver waved his wand, and the imps hovering above the students' heads dissolved into golden light, flying toward the parchment in his hand. The light converged into two lists.
"Excellent. I've recorded your names. You'll receive your Christmas presents soon."
He then turned toward the other group. "As for those who lost, don't be discouraged. Reflect on what you learned today—it will benefit you all."
"Now then," he said with a faint smile, "that concludes today's class. Students, dismissed!"