Chapter 2: Your Poison, My Sweet

Finally, Tver could relax. He had decided to return to England to take up a position as an assistant in Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, the only and best magical school in the country.

This was by no means an easy or comfortable job; in fact, it could be said to be the most dangerous profession.

If memory served correctly, out of the seven Defence Against the Dark Arts professors over seven years in the story, one was permanently hospitalized at St. Mungo's, two ended up in prison, and five died.

Yes, five.

The additional one, Moody, was merely impersonated by someone using Polyjuice Potion and also met his end.

The frequent mishaps made it hard not to question the peril of the subject. But for Tver, being deeply in debt was no longer a concern; it was just another flavor to add to his impending demise.

At the age of eleven, he stumbled upon a ring. Unfortunately, it was cursed with powerful dark magic capable of instantly destroying his young life. Fortunately, at that moment, he traveled to this universe, along with his own cheating

It was a badge.

This badge, a piece of merchandise he had purchased in his past life, bore the emblem of the most famous wizarding school in Britain—Hogwarts. A large 'H' at the center, surrounded by the four house animals—lion, snake, eagle, and badger—and below it, a motto.

"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus."

For some reason, this badge had traveled with him, and as his life force ebbed away under the curse of the ring, the badge suddenly surged with power, countering the dark magic's corrosion. However, the power was not strong; it merely kept him from dying while the dark magic continued to leech his life like a necrotic ulcer.

Upon seeing the ring, he recognized it for what it was—one of Voldemort's Horcruxes!

Having seen the movies, he knew that even Dumbledore and Snape, two of the most revered wizards in the magical world, could not break the dark magic within it. Dumbledore, known as the greatest white wizard, chose death due to the intractable dark magic.

He made a decisive choice, abandoning the Hogwarts acceptance letter and pleading with his parents to send him to Durmstrang, a school renowned for its study of the Dark Arts.

Fortunately, his family was prominent enough to secure him a place easily at Durmstrang.

Over these seven years, Tver had relied on his study of dark magic and the protective power of the badge to postpone his inevitable end. He also uncovered the greatest secret of the badge: as his understanding of magic grew stronger, so did the power of the badge, offsetting the life-draining effects of the dark magic.

It was like a swimming pool where water flowed in as fast as it drained out, except the water was his life. However, last year, his progress hit a plateau, and his rapid growth in power halted, causing the badge's energy to gradually wane. Six months later, the power had completely dissipated, and the dark magic stretched its tendrils directly toward his life, turning the pool into a one-way flow.

Faced with his swiftly diminishing life, Tver used his seven years of knowledge in dark magic and a bit of small help to temporarily condense this dark magic into a small dot.

Now, he glanced at his right wrist, where a small black dot resided, with two thin lines extending from it, continually stretching out. When these lines overlapped, his life would end.

According to his calculations, he had two years left. This was why he was desperate to secure a position at Hogwarts, especially since this year, a miraculous stone said to grant immortality would be housed within the school.

The choice of Defence Against the Dark Arts was purely strategic—it was the only subject that recruited new teachers annually. Even so, his identity as a Durmstrang student made the hiring committee hesitant. Had he not offered to be just an assistant, he might have wasted another three years.

Thus, the position of assistant in Defence Against the Dark Arts was both his poison and his sweet nectar.

Reflecting on his past seven years felt like racing against the Grim Reaper, each day fiercely absorbing various magical knowledge, each night devising more efficient methods to learn. This had earned him an indescribable title at Durmstrang—Panda Warrior.

After leaving, perhaps no one would call him by this embarrassingly affectionate nickname again.

Pleased, Tver pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and penned his reply. In moments, the letter was neatly folded, free of any superfluous creases.

However, the owl seemed to dislike this tidiness, twisting the letter a bit and pecking at his hand in a somewhat complaining manner before flapping its wings and flying towards the distant snowy mountains.

'I'll make it up to you next time.'

Tver's good mood remained undisturbed. With a light flick of his wand, the two neatly packed suitcases on the floor became feather-light and floated towards his open wallet.

Upon contact, the suitcases seemed to compress instantaneously and flew neatly into it. The wallet had been secretly enchanted with an Extension Charm, making its interior larger than the dormitory itself.

Such use of the charm on personal items was illegal in wizarding laws worldwide. But then again, what kind of wizard would he be if he didn't bend the rules occasionally?

Tver cast one last nostalgic look around the room that had been his home for seven years, locking away the memories before leaving with ease.

"Is this graduation then?" The aged voice suddenly spoke from a portrait at the stairwell.

The speaker was Durmstrang's second headmaster, who had introduced dueling and wartime magic into the curriculum. His masterpiece was the dueling arena in front of the castle. Even confined to his frame, he seemed to prefer sitting on the stone steps.

"Yes, Mr. Munter, I am grateful for your assistance over these past seven years," Tver replied, pausing his stride. Although Mr. Munter sometimes reported to the headmaster, he had also helped Tver during his nocturnal escapades.

"Karkaroff, that fool, letting you go is Durmstrang's greatest loss!" Even as a portrait, the old man's fiery temperament was unmistakable.

"It's my own doing. I need to study my magical skills further and explore more diverse magical knowledge to reach a higher level." Tver's unspoken words lingered in the air: to keep himself alive.

"I heard you're going to that school to teach?" the old man's mood shifted quickly.

"Yes, but only as an assistant."

"Well, my only wish for you is not to overwork yourself. Sometimes, taking a break can help you see things more clearly." Munter gave Tver a meaningful wink. Since last year, he had been repeating this advice, but whenever pressed for more details, he would fall silent.

Thus, Tver simply shook his head and bid farewell to the old headmaster, and to the school, as he stepped into the new chapter of his life.