A weight lifted from Tver's heart.

  He was indeed returning to Engnd, to take up a position as a teaching assistant for Defence Against the Dark Arts at Britain's sole, and arguably finest, school of magic – Hogwarts.

  It was hardly a carefree or comfortable occupation, but rather one of the riskiest career choices imaginable.

  Second only to being the parent of a time-traveler.

  If his memory served him correctly, of the seven Defence Against the Dark Arts professors employed during the seven years of the story, one was permanently confined to St. Mungo's, two were imprisoned, and five had met their demise.

  Yes, five.

  The additional one, Moody, had been impersonated with Polyjuice Potion, and also eventually met his end.

  The frequency of these incidents made it difficult not to question the inherent dangers of the position.

  But for Tver, it was simply another drop in the bucket of his already dire situation. An extra flourish of peril to season his impending demise.

  At the age of eleven, he had stumbled upon a cursed ring by chance.

  Unfortunately, the ring was imbued with a potent strain of Dark Magic, capable of instantly extinguishing his young life.

  Fortunately, it was at that exact moment when he transmigrated to this world, bringing with him his own unique advantage.

  A badge.

  The badge was a piece of memorabilia he had bought in his previous life, the Hogwarts school crest.

  A rge "H" sat at the center, encircled by a lion, snake, eagle, and badger, accompanied by the motto:

  "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titilndus."

  [Do not tickle a sleeping Draco (misinterpreted)]

  Loosely transted, "Never tickle a sleeping dragon."

  He had no idea why the badge had traveled with him, but as his life force ebbed away, it suddenly emanated a surge of power, resisting the encroaching Dark Magic.

  However, this power was limited, barely enough to keep him alive. The Dark Magic continued to cling to him, an insidious parasite sapping his vitality.

  The moment he saw the ring, he knew what it was.

  One of Voldemort's Horcruxes!

  Having watched the films, he was aware that even the most accomplished wizards of the age, Dumbledore and Snape, were unable to break its dark enchantment.

  Dumbledore, hailed as the greatest white wizard, ultimately succumbed to death due to the ineradicable curse.

  Without hesitation, he rejected the Hogwarts acceptance letter and implored his parents to send him to Durmstrang, the school renowned for its study of the Dark Arts.

  Thankfully, his family held a degree of prominence, securing his admission to Durmstrang without issue.

  Over the ensuing seven years, he had relied on his knowledge of the Dark Arts and the badge's protection to successfully postpone his demise.

  He also unearthed the badge's greatest secret.

  The stronger his understanding of magic became, the more the badge's power grew, effectively offsetting the damage inflicted by the Dark Magic.

  Imagine a swimming pool, water flowing in and out, but the liquid was his very life.

  However, by the previous year, he had reached a pteau, his progress no longer as rapid. Consequently, the badge's strength gradually waned, until it vanished entirely six months ter.

  The Dark Magic instantly reached out to cim his life, the pool becoming a drain with no inflow.

  In the face of his rapidly diminishing life force, Tver marshaled his seven years of Dark Arts knowledge, along with a little additional aid, and managed to temporarily coalesce the Dark Magic into a small mass.

  He raised his hand to examine his right wrist, where a small bck spot marked his flesh, with tendrils like threads extending from either side.

  When those threads connected, his life would end.

  At his current rate, he had approximately two years remaining.

  That was why he had fought tooth and nail to secure a position at Hogwarts. Because that year, a legendary artifact was to be housed within the school walls.

  A stone that granted immortality.

  The Defence Against the Dark Arts was the only option because it was the only position consistently advertised each year.

  Even so, Tver's Durmstrang pedigree had given the headmaster pause.

  If he hadn't offered to serve only as an assistant, he might have nguished in wait for another three years.

  Thus, the Defence Against the Dark Arts assistant position, for Tver, was one man's poison, another man's nectar.

  Recalling the past seven years, it felt like a race against death itself, desperately absorbing all forms of magical knowledge, and devising ever more efficient learning methods each night.

  This had earned him a certain unusual reputation at Durmstrang.

  The Panda Warrior…

  Once he left here, surely no one would address him by that embarrassing moniker again?

  Tver happily retrieved a fresh sheet of parchment and penned his reply, folding it into a crisp, fwless square.

  However, the owl disapproved of such tidiness. As he tied the letter to its leg, it tugged at the parchment and pecked his hand in a show of defiance, before spreading its wings and soaring off towards the distant, snow-capped mountains.

  *Sorry, maybe I'll make it up to you next time.*

  Undaunted, Tver maintained his cheerful mood. With a lighthearted flick of his wand, the two meticulously packed trunks on the floor grew weightless, floating like feathers towards his outstretched wallet.

  Upon contact with the wallet, the trunks seemingly compressed, neatly slipping inside.

  The wallet had been secretly imbued with an Undetectable Extension Charm, its internal dimensions dwarfing the size of the dorm room itself.

  Regardless of the country, this spell was illegal when used on personal items.

  But then again, was one truly a wizard if they didn't break the w now and then?

  Tver cast one st, lingering gnce at the room, enclosing seven years of his life within its walls, before leaving with a sense of liberation.

  "So, you're graduating, are you?" a voice echoed from a portrait near the staircase.

  It was Mont, the second headmaster of Durmstrang, who had introduced dueling and war magic into the curriculum. The dueling arena before the castle was his creation. Even in his portrait, he was sitting on the stone steps.

  "Yes, Mr. Mont. I'm grateful for your assistance over the past seven years."

  Tver paused. Mr. Mont might have been prone to tattling to the Headmaster, but he had also offered assistance during his nocturnal excursions.

  "Karkaroff was a fool not to retain you. It's Durmstrang's loss!"

  Even as a portrait, the old man's temper was barely contained.

  "It's my own fault. I need to refine my magical skills, explore different kinds of magical knowledge to reach a higher pne."

  *So that I may live*, Tver's unspoken words hung in the air.

  "I heard you were taking a teaching post at that school?" The old man's emotions came and went quickly.

  "Yes, a teaching assistant."

  "Well, my only wish for you is not to overexert yourself. Sometimes, stopping allows you to see more clearly." Mont winked at Tver meaningfully.

  Ever since st year, Mont had repeated those very words each time they spoke, but when pressed for eboration, he would fall silent.

  So Tver merely shook his head, bade him farewell, and took his leave of the school.