Tver finally felt at ease.
Yes, he was going back to England to become an assistant professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts—the one and only, and finest, wizarding school in the country.
Of course, it wasn't exactly a cushy job. In fact, it was arguably the second most dangerous profession in the world—just behind being the parent of a transmigrator.
If he remembered correctly, in the story, there had been seven professors in seven years. One ended up permanently in St. Mungo's, two were sent to Azkaban, and five died.
Yes, five.
The odd one out, Moody, only made the list because someone impersonated him using Polyjuice Potion. But in the end, even he went to meet Merlin.
The sheer number of incidents made it hard not to question how cursed the position really was.
But for Tver, it was just another burden in a life already full of them. At this point, adding a little more danger to his death didn't faze him.
At eleven, he had stumbled upon a ring purely by accident.
Unluckily, that ring carried an intense dark magic—enough to destroy a child in seconds.
Luckily, that was when he transmigrated. And he brought something with him—his cheat.
A badge.
It was a Hogwarts crest badge he had bought as merchandise in his previous life. A large "H" in the center, surrounded by a lion, serpent, eagle, and badger. Beneath it was the school's motto:
"Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus."
In truth, it meant: Never tickle a sleeping dragon.
He had no idea why the badge crossed over with him, but as his life force began to ebb away, the badge suddenly unleashed a power that pushed back against the invading dark magic.
It wasn't strong—just enough to keep him from dying. The curse still clung to him, draining his life like a festering parasite.
But the moment he saw that ring, he knew what it was.
One of Voldemort's Horcruxes!
Having seen the movies, he knew even Dumbledore and Snape—two of the most powerful wizards in the magical world—couldn't completely dispel the dark magic attached to it.
Dumbledore, hailed as the greatest wizard of his time, had ultimately chosen death because the curse was too powerful to cleanse.
Tver had made a snap decision. He tossed aside the Hogwarts acceptance letter and begged his parents to send him to Durmstrang, the school renowned for its study of dark magic.
Fortunately, his family still had enough influence to get him enrolled without difficulty.
Over the past seven years, he had relied on both his deepening study of dark magic and the badge's protection to stave off death. And he uncovered the badge's greatest secret.
So long as his understanding of magic continued to grow, the badge's power would grow with it, offsetting the damage to his life force caused by the dark magic.
It was like a swimming pool—water flowing in and out at the same time. Only in this case, the water was his life.
But last year, he hit a bottleneck. His progress slowed, and the badge's power began to fade.
Six months later, it vanished completely.
Dark magic immediately reached for his life, and the pool became a one-way flow—only draining, never refilling.
Facing the steady, stream-like loss of his life force, Tver used his seven years of dark magic study, along with a bit of external help, to barely compress the curse into a small, condensed point.
Thinking of this, he raised his right wrist. A tiny black dot sat there, with a fine line extending from both sides. When the lines met, that would be the end of his life.
At the current rate, he had about two years left.
That was why he was so determined to apply for a position at Hogwarts—because this year, a miraculous stone would be kept at the school.
A stone said to grant eternal life.
As for why he applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position? Simple: it was the only subject that opened external recruitment every year.
Even so, his identity as a student from Durmstrang still made the headmaster hesitate. If he hadn't agreed to settle for a teaching assistant role, he likely would've had to wait another three years.
That's why the position of assistant professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts—poison to some—was sweet as honey to Tver.
Looking back on the past seven years, it felt like a desperate race against death. Every day, he absorbed every kind of magical knowledge he could, and every night, he reworked more efficient learning methods in his mind.
It earned him a strange and indescribable nickname at Durmstrang.
"Panda Warlord"...
Once he left this place, hopefully no one would ever call him that embarrassing title again.
Tver cheerfully pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and penned his reply. Moments later, the letter was folded crisply without a single wrinkle.
But Mr. Owl didn't appreciate the neatness. As the letter was tied to his leg, he twisted and tugged twice, then pecked at Tver's hand in protest before spreading his wings and flying toward the snowy mountains.
Sorry, I'll make it up to you next time.
Tver's good mood remained intact. With a wave of his wand, the two neatly packed suitcases on the ground grew feather-light and floated toward his open wallet.
The moment they touched it, the luggage compressed instantly and slipped neatly inside.
The wallet had been secretly enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm—its interior was larger than the entire dormitory.
Regardless of the country, casting that charm on personal belongings was illegal.
But honestly, if you're not breaking a few laws, are you even a wizard?
Tver took one last lingering look around the room. He sealed away seven years of his life in that glance, then left the dormitory with ease.
"So you're graduating, are you?" said the elderly man in the portrait at the stairwell.
This was Durmstrang's second headmaster—the one who introduced dueling and combat magic into the curriculum. The arena outside the castle was his legacy. Even in the portrait, he insisted on sitting on the stone steps.
"Yes, Mr. Munter. Thank you for all your help over the past seven years."
Tver paused mid-step. Though Mr. Munter had occasionally tattled to the headmaster, he also aided him during his nighttime wanderings.
"That fool Karkaroff failing to keep you here—Durmstrang's greatest loss!"
Even aged and confined to a canvas, the old man's fiery temper was impossible to miss.
"It's my own shortcoming. I need to refine my magical skills further and explore more diverse branches of magic if I want to reach greater heights."
If I want to survive—Tver left that part unsaid.
"I heard you're going to that school to teach?"
"Yes, but just as a teaching assistant."
"Well then, all I'll say is—don't push yourself too hard. Sometimes stopping is the only way to see clearly." Munter gave Tver a meaningful wink.
Since last year, Munter had said that exact line every time they met. But ask him what he meant, and he'd fall completely silent.
So Tver simply shook his head, said his goodbyes, and left the school behind.