Chapter 2: Chapter 2: Your Arsenic, My Honey
Tver's heart finally eased. He was set to return to England, to the only and finest magical school there—Hogwarts—to take up the post of Assistant Professor in Defence Against the Dark Arts. This was not an easy or comfortable role. If he remembered correctly, among the seven previous professors of this subject, one was perpetually hospitalized, two were imprisoned, and five met untimely deaths.
Yes, five.
The extra, Moody, had survived only due to his disguise with Polyjuice Potion, but eventually, he too met a fatal end.
With such a high turnover, it was hard not to see the position as cursed.
However, for Tver, this was merely an added thrill to his fate.
At eleven, he had accidentally found a ring laden with intense Dark Magic, which nearly claimed his life. Fortuitously, at that time, he had transmigrated, retaining a crucial item—a badge featuring the emblem of Hogwarts, the most renowned wizarding school in Britain. It bore a large 'H' surrounded by a lion, a snake, an eagle, and a badger, under the motto "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus."
Mysteriously, the badge had come with him through the transmigration. As his life force dwindled under the ring's dark influence, the badge surged with power, barely keeping him alive. The ring was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, a dark artifact not even the likes of Dumbledore or Snape could neutralize.
Realizing the danger, he forwent his acceptance to Hogwarts, instead pleading to attend Durmstrang, known for its Dark Arts expertise. There, over seven years, his studies and the badge's protective power had staved off death.
Tver had also discovered the badge's greater potential. As his magical knowledge deepened, he enhanced the badge's power, offsetting the life-draining effects of the Dark Magic. It was a precarious balance, like managing the levels in a pool—water flowing in and draining out, with his life hanging in the balance.
Recently, he hit a plateau in his abilities; the badge's power waned and disappeared six months later, leaving him vulnerable. Dark Magic crept closer, sapping his life force.
In a desperate move, he managed to condense the Dark Magic into a small point on his wrist, marked by a small black dot with thin lines extending from it. When the lines overlapped, his life would end—giving him roughly two years left.
This urgency propelled his application to teach at Hogwarts, especially timely as the school would soon house a miraculous stone purported to grant eternal life.
He chose Defence Against the Dark Arts precisely because it was the only department consistently seeking new teachers. His background as a Durmstrang student made Hogwarts cautious, forcing him to settle for an assistant position to avoid further delay.
For Tver, accepting the position of Assistant Professor in Defence Against the Dark Arts was a double-edged sword—both his poison and his antidote.
Reflecting on his past seven years, it felt like a relentless race against death, each day filled with intense study of various magical arts, and each night dedicated to developing more efficient study methods.
This rigorous pursuit had earned him a notable reputation at Durmstrang as "The Panda Warrior"—a title that was both embarrassing and a badge of honor. It was a nickname he doubted anyone would use once he left these halls.
With a sense of joyful determination, Tver took out a piece of pristine parchment and penned his reply to Hogwarts. He folded the letter neatly, ensuring it was crease-free, though the owl seemed less appreciative of his meticulousness. As he attached the letter to its leg, the bird twisted and pecked at his hand in mild protest before taking off towards the distant snowy mountains.
"Sorry about that, I'll make it up to you next time," Tver muttered, his good spirits undiminished.
With a flick of his wand, he directed his neatly arranged luggage to float towards his open wallet. As the bags made contact, they seemed to compress and smoothly flew inside. The wallet had been discreetly enhanced with an Extension Charm, providing more space than seemed physically possible—a clear breach of wizarding law, but then, bending a few rules was part of being a wizard, wasn't it?
Taking one last look around the room that had been his home for seven years, Tver felt a wave of nostalgia as he closed the door behind him.
"So, this is graduation, huh?" came a voice from the portrait on the staircase landing.
The speaker was the second headmaster of Durmstrang, a proponent of dueling and combat magic who, even confined to his frame, insisted on sitting on the stone steps.
"Yeah, Mr. Munter, I'm really grateful for your help over these past seven years," Tver replied, pausing briefly. Mr. Munter had not only reported to the headmaster but had also been a clandestine aide during Tver's nightly escapades.
"Karkaroff was a fool to let you go. It's Durmstrang's loss!" Mr. Munter declared, his fiery temperament evident even in his aged portrait.
"It's my own doing. I need to advance my magical skills and deepen my knowledge of various forms of magic to stay alive," Tver responded, the gravity of his situation unspoken yet palpable.
"I heard you're going to that school to be a teacher?" the old man shifted the topic abruptly.
"Yes, but only as an assistant."
"Well, my only advice to you is not to overdo it. Sometimes, taking a step back gives you a clearer perspective," Mr. Munter advised, winking meaningfully.
Mr. Munter had repeated this counsel during their conversations since last year, yet he never elaborated further. Tver simply nodded, bid farewell to the old headmaster, and left the school behind.
Weekly Power Status
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