The teacher at Hogwarts is a Dark Lord！

"Weaklings talk about fairness; the strong only speak of conquest, Tewell!"

"But sir, isn't mercy from the strong also about equality?"

...

July, Demstrang.

It's not a large school, its castle only four stories tall, and even in daylight, it feels gloomy inside.

In contrast, Demstrang favors orange and green to adorn its towers and domes, a style that combines magnificence with solemnity, possessing a unique charm.

Just like its students, who study dark magic while mastering defensive spells, spear and shield existing side by side.

Tewell Fawley stood at the topmost level of the castle, leaning against the railing, overlooking the place he had lived in for seven years.

The small castle does not imply the school's insignificance; in fact, Demstrang boasts vast grounds and magnificent scenery.

In front of the castle lies the dueling ground for practicing magic, akin to traditional arenas where monthly duels for each grade take place.

There are also school-wide duels, but those are held at the end of the school year to determine the winner of the Cup.

Thinking of this, Tewell couldn't help but smile.

"From today onwards, you can finally compete for the top spot."

Yes, since arriving at Demstrang, except for the first three years when Tewell would still lose to older students, he had been the undisputed champion for the following four years.

But now, they finally have the chance to taste victory.

"Tewell, are you really leaving? But the headmaster said, as long as you're willing, the school can hire you directly as a professor."

"You know, Demstrang is the best fit for you!"

A shaven-headed boy appeared out of nowhere, clad only in a shirt, his body glistening with sweat, droplets constantly trickling down his muscular frame onto the floor.

Tewell turned back, marveling at the sturdy physique of the boy, a sight that never failed to impress him no matter how many times he saw it. But at least he didn't have to shave his head, which was an advantage after all, for the strong always enjoyed privileges.

"Off swimming again, Viktor? Be careful not to age prematurely," Tewell remarked, teasingly.

Viktor shook the water off his head in annoyance, attempting to retaliate in kind. Not only did he possess handsome features, but even the faint dark circles under his eyes seemed frozen in time since the day they met.

With a snap of his fingers, Tewell blocked the droplets Viktor hurled at him, then redirected them back at him with even greater speed, pattering against Viktor's body.

Viktor didn't seem bothered, merely shielding his face with his hand, knowing the water droplets had no effect on his robust physique. At least he wouldn't be treated like this again.

"Study hard, Viktor," Tewell patted his shoulder, "I've decided to go to that school, but we'll have a chance to meet again."

"But I heard you rejected them seven years ago to come to Demstrang," Viktor's expression turned eager.

"I had reasons I couldn't ignore for coming here, and reasons I can't ignore for leaving," Tewell replied cryptically.

As he bid farewell to Viktor, Tewell strolled through the castle, reminiscing about seven years of learning. It seemed like a ritual every graduate had to go through.

To outsiders, Demstrang was a dangerous school.

In reality, it was.

But beneath that danger lay comprehensive protective measures within the school.

The most prominent feature being the finest Dark Magic Healing Hospital, capable of addressing most injuries caused by dark magic.

For the first three years, students primarily focused on healing and defensive magic.

Only in the fourth year did they delve into regulated dark magic.

If their studies ventured too deep or their intentions turned too sinister, resulting in the exploration of overly dangerous dark magic, Demstrang wouldn't tolerate it.

Simply because they couldn't be saved.

But to outsiders, studying dark magic was already unforgivable, and they wouldn't care for explanations like "understanding defense requires studying."

Of course, credit also went to the school's "honored alumni."

Tewell greeted passing students amiably. In this school, there were almost as many students who didn't study dark magic as those who did.

After dealing with some friends, he slowly made his way back to the dormitory he had lived in for seven years.

The layout here was the same as it was seven years ago when he first arrived—clean, tidy, with suitcases neatly arranged beside the beds.

But this time, they were leaving.

It was the first day of their graduation and also the last day they would stay at the school. His roommates had already gone their separate ways.

But he couldn't leave yet.

Taking off his blood-red robe, Tewell put on more casual clothes. Thanks to his slender physique, he always looked good no matter what he wore.

Flattening out the wrinkles on his clothes, Tewell sat quietly on his familiar bed, sitting upright like a graduate about to face an interview.

This was also one of the virtues he had learned at Demstrang.

In the silent dorm room, the only sound was the rustling as he felt for the badge on his clothes, indicating his inner turmoil.

He was waiting for a letter, an important reply.

As time ticked by, finally, the "thud" outside the window broke the silence of the room and his thoughts.

Tewell's heart skipped a beat.

It was a sturdy owl, weary from its long journey, yet dutifully standing outside the window, tapping on the glass with its beak.

Tewell waved his wand, and the window opened automatically, allowing the owl to fly in.

The owl landed gracefully on the chair, extending a foot toward Tewell, with a letter attached.

A letter from Hogwarts.

Tewell quickly unfastened the letter. The surface of the envelope bore his name and address:

Scandinavian Peninsula,

Demstrang Institute,

Second floor, leftmost dormitory,

Mr. Tewell Fawley.

He chuckled softly.

This letter was like seven years ago, except for the address. Its meticulous accuracy, almost obsessive-compulsive, gave him a sense of returning to a past life, the intense anticipation of receiving the Hogwarts acceptance letter.

On the back, there was the Hogwarts crest, very familiar to him.

He eagerly tore open the envelope and extracted the letter inside:

Dear Mr. Tewell Fawley,

We are pleased to inform you that your application for the Assistant Professor of Dark Arts Defense position has been accepted. The interview will be held on July 31st at 10 a.m.

You will be interviewed by Professor Quirrell and Professor Dumbledore. Please prepare accordingly.

We await your reply by owl no later than July 10th.

Additionally, you may choose to Apparate to the school gates or use Floo Powder to enter the school. There will be personnel to guide you.

Deputy Headmistress

Minerva McGonagall, Esq.