“The weak speak of fairness, the strong speak only of conquest, Tver!”
“But Professor, the mercy of the strong is also a form of equality.”
…
July, Durmstrang.
This was not a particularly large school.
Its castle rose only four stories, and even during the day, the interior remained gloomy.
In contrast, Durmstrang favored orange and green to decorate its towers and domes, a magnificent and solemn style with a unique charm.
Much like the students here—they studied the Dark Arts and mastered defensive magic in equal measure.
Spear and shield existed side by side.
Tver Foley stood on the castle’s highest level, leaning against the railing, looking down at the place where he had lived for seven years.
The small castle did not reflect the school’s true scope.
In fact, Durmstrang possessed vast grounds and magnificent scenery.
Before the castle lay an arena for practicing magic.
Like traditional arenas, it hosted dueling competitions for each year level once a month.
There were also school-wide dueling tournaments, though those came at year’s end to determine who would claim the Championship Cup.
Thinking of this, Tver couldn’t help but smile.
“From today on, you’ll finally have a chance at first place.”
Yes, since arriving at Durmstrang, aside from his first three years when he still lost to upperclassmen, the past four years had seen him claim first place without question.
But now, they would finally have the opportunity to taste victory for themselves.
“Tver, are you really leaving?
The headmaster said the school could hire you directly as a professor if you’re willing.”
“You know Durmstrang is the best fit for you!”
A buzz-cut boy appeared from somewhere, wearing only a single layer.
Water droplets ran down his muscular frame with each gasping breath, dripping onto the floor.
Tver turned.
No matter how many times he saw him, he had to admire the boy’s imposing physique.
At least he didn’t need a buzz cut.
That was one advantage.
After all, the strong always had their privileges.
“Swimming again, Viktor?
Careful you don’t age yourself.”
Viktor shook his head irritably, flinging water droplets in retaliation.
His opponent possessed not only handsome features, but even the faint dark circles beneath his eyes seemed frozen in time.
From the day they’d met, it had always been the same.
Tver snapped his fingers.
The water droplets Viktor had flung stopped between them, then flew back at greater speed, pattering against Viktor’s body.
Viktor didn’t get angry.
He raised his hand to shield his face—the droplets posed no threat to his strong body anyway.
Besides, his friend wouldn’t be treating him this way much longer.
“Study hard, Viktor.” Tver patted his shoulder.
“I’ve already decided to go to that school.
We’ll still have chances to meet again.”
“But I heard you refused them seven years ago to come to Durmstrang?” Viktor’s expression grew anxious.
“I had reasons I had to come here, and reasons I must leave now.”
After saying goodbye to Viktor, Tver walked slowly through the castle, taking time to recall seven years of study and life.
It seemed to be a required ritual for graduates.
To outsiders, Durmstrang appeared a dangerous school.
In truth, it was.
But beneath that danger lay comprehensive protective measures.
The most direct evidence: the school had the finest hospital for treating Dark Arts injuries, capable of properly handling most damage caused by Dark Magic.
Every student’s first three years focused primarily on learning healing and defensive magic.
Only in their fourth year did they begin studying the Dark Arts, and only those sanctioned by school regulations.
If research went too deep, if malice grew too strong, if the Dark Arts studied became too dangerous, even Durmstrang would not tolerate it.
Simply because there would be no saving them.
To outsiders, of course, studying the Dark Arts was already unforgivable.
They cared nothing for explanations like “only through study can one understand defense.”
Naturally, the school’s “distinguished alumni” contributed to that reputation.
Tver exchanged friendly greetings with passing students.
In this school, students who didn’t know him were as rare as students who didn’t study the Dark Arts.
After dealing with some friends, he slowly returned to the dormitory where he’d lived for seven years.
The layout remained unchanged from when he’d first arrived—clean, tidy, with luggage neatly arranged beside the bed.
Only this time they were for departure.
This was the first day after graduation for his year, and the last day they could remain at school.
His roommates had already scattered to their separate paths.
But he couldn’t leave yet.
Changing out of his blood-red robes, Tver put on more casual clothing.
Thanks to his tall frame, whatever he wore fit perfectly.
Smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes, Tver sat quietly on his familiar bed, his posture as upright as a graduate heading to a job interview.
This could be counted as one virtue he’d learned at Durmstrang.
In the silent dormitory, only the sound of his fingers tracing over the badge broke the quiet, revealing his inner turmoil.
He was waiting for a letter.
A very important reply.
Time crept forward.
Finally, a tapping sound from outside the window shattered the silence and broke his reverie.
Tver’s heart leapt.
It was a strong owl.
The long journey had left it quite exhausted, but it still dutifully stood outside the window, tapping the glass with its hard beak.
Tver waved his wand.
The window opened automatically, allowing the owl to fly inside.
The owl landed steadily on a chair and extended one leg toward Tver, where a letter was bound.
A letter from Hogwarts.
Tver quickly untied it.
The envelope’s surface bore his name and address:
Scandinavian Peninsula, Durmstrang Institute, Second Floor Student Dormitory, Leftmost Room, Mr.
Tver Foley
He laughed softly.
This letter, like the one seven years ago, differed only in address.
Its obsessively precise format reminded him of his past life, of the intense anticipation of receiving a Hogwarts acceptance letter.
On the reverse side was the familiar Hogwarts crest.
He eagerly tore open the envelope and extracted the letter:
Dear Mr.
Tver Foley,
We are pleased to inform you that your application for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Teaching Assistant has been accepted.
Your interview will be held on July 31st at ten o’clock in the morning.
At that time, you will be interviewed jointly by Professor Quirrell and Professor Dumbledore.
Please prepare accordingly.
We await your owl’s reply before July 10th.
Additionally, you may choose to Apparate to the school gates or use Floo powder to enter the school, where someone will be available to guide you.
Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall