"Only the weak talk about fairness. The strong speak only of conquest, Tver!"
"But teacher, even the mercy of the strong is a form of equality."
...
July, Durmstrang.
It wasn't a large school—its castle had only four stories, and even during the day, the halls felt dark and oppressive. In stark contrast, Durmstrang favored orange and green for decorating its towers and domes, a dazzling and solemn aesthetic with a unique charm. Much like its students: they studied dark magic, but were equally skilled in defense—spear and shield, side by side.
Tver Fawley stood on the top floor of the castle, leaning against the railing, gazing down at the place he'd called home for the past seven years. A small castle didn't mean a small school. In reality, Durmstrang had a vast campus and breathtaking scenery. Right in front of the castle was the dueling arena where students practiced magic. Like a traditional coliseum, duels between different grades were held once a month. There was also a school-wide tournament at the end of the academic year to decide the champion's cup.
Thinking about it, Tver couldn't help but smile.
"Starting today, you can finally fight for first place."
Yes, ever since arriving at Durmstrang, Tver had only lost to upper-year students during his first three years. In the following four, he was the undisputed top student. But now, they finally had a chance to experience what it felt like to be number one.
"Tver, are you really leaving? But the headmaster said the school would hire you as a professor if you're willing!"
"You know Durmstrang is the best place for you!"
A boy with a buzz cut appeared without warning, dressed in nothing but a shirt. Water dripped from his muscular frame with each breath, pooling on the stone floor.
Tver turned his head. No matter how many times he saw it, he always admired the boy's powerful build. At least he didn't have to shave his head—an advantage in itself. After all, the strong always had privileges.
"Swimming again, Viktor? Be careful—you'll age faster at this rate."
Viktor shook his wet head in irritation, hoping to splash Tver in retaliation. His looks were striking, and even the faint dark circles under his eyes seemed frozen in time. He'd looked like this from the moment they met.
Tver snapped his fingers, and the water Viktor had flung at him stopped in midair before reversing course, splattering back against Viktor with sharp, wet smacks.
Viktor didn't mind. He raised a hand to shield his face, but the droplets had little effect on his solid build anyway. The other guy wouldn't treat him like this again.
"Study hard, Viktor." Tver patted him on the shoulder. "I've already decided. I'm going to that school, but we'll definitely meet again."
"But didn't you refuse their offer seven years ago to come to Durmstrang instead?" Viktor's expression was anxious.
"I had my reasons for coming here, and I have my reasons for leaving now."
After saying goodbye, Tver walked leisurely through the castle, reminiscing about his seven years of student life. It felt like a rite of passage for all graduates.
To outsiders, Durmstrang had a reputation for danger. And to be fair, that wasn't entirely wrong. But beneath that danger were layers of well-designed protections. Most notably, it housed the finest dark magic treatment hospital, fully equipped to handle nearly all injuries caused by dark magic.
During their first three years, every student focused primarily on healing and defensive magic. Only in their fourth year were they allowed to study dark magic—and even then, only the types permitted by school regulations. If their research delved too deep or their intent grew too malicious, making the magic they practiced too dangerous, not even Durmstrang would tolerate it. Because it would simply be beyond saving.
To the outside world, though, even researching dark magic was an unforgivable crime. No one cared about Durmstrang's logic that "only by studying it can one defend against it." Of course, the school's "honorary alumni" helped preserve that line of reasoning.
Tver greeted the passing students with friendly nods. At Durmstrang, there were probably just as many who knew him as there were those who avoided dark magic entirely.
After dealing with a few friends, he slowly returned to the dormitory where he had lived for seven years.
The layout was exactly the same as when he first arrived—clean, tidy, with suitcases neatly arranged beside the bed. This time, however, they were leaving. It was the first day of graduation for their class, and their last day on campus. His roommates had already gone their separate ways.
But he couldn't leave yet.
Tver took off his blood-red robe and put on more casual clothes. Thanks to his slender physique, whatever he wore always looked good on him. Smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes, Tver sat quietly on his familiar bed, sitting upright like a graduate going to a job interview. This was one of the good qualities he had learned at Durmstrang.
The only sound in the silent dormitory was the soft rustling of his fingers as he felt around for the badge, revealing the restlessness in his heart. He was waiting for a letter—an important reply.
Time trickled by, and finally, the sound of a "click" outside the window broke the silence, shattering his thoughts.
Tver's heart leapt.
It was a strong owl, exhausted from its long journey, but it stood loyally outside the window, tapping on the glass with its hard beak.
Tver waved his wand, and the window opened automatically, allowing the owl to fly in. The owl stood steadily on the chair and stretched out a foot with a letter tied to it toward Tver.
It was a letter from Hogwarts.
Tver quickly untied the letter. His name and address were written on the envelope:
Scandinavian Peninsula,
Durmstrang Institute,
Second floor of the student dormitory, far left,
Mr. Tver Fawley.
He chuckled softly.
The letter was just like the one he had received seven years ago, except for the address. Its obsessive-compulsive precision made him feel like he was back in his past life, eagerly awaiting his acceptance letter from Hogwarts.
On the back was the Hogwarts crest, which he knew so well.
He couldn't wait to open the envelope and take out the letter inside:
Dear Mr. Tver Fawley,
We are pleased to inform you that your application for the position of assistant professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts has been accepted. The interview will be held at 10 a.m. on July 31.
At that time, Professor Quirrell and Professor Dumbledore will interview you together, so please be prepared in advance.
We look forward to receiving your reply by owl before July 10.
Alternatively, you may choose to Apparate to the school gates or use Floo powder to enter the school, where you will be guided by someone.
Deputy Headmistress,
Minerva McGonagall