Hiding as a professor at Hogwarts

"It is the weak who speak of fairness, the strong speak only of conquest, Tweedledum!" 　　"But teacher, the mercy of the strong is also equality." 　　... Durmstrang, July. 　　It was a school that wasn't considered large, its castle was only four stories, and even in the daytime, it was eerie inside. 　　In contrast, Durmstrang favored orange and green to decorate the towers and vaults, and this magnificent and stately style had a unique charm. 　　It was as if the students here, who studied black magic, were also proficient in defense arts, spears and shields at the same time. 　　Tver Foley stood right on the top floor of the castle, leaning against the railing, overlooking the place where he had lived for seven years. 　　The tiny castle did not represent the smallness of the school; in fact, Durmstrang had vast grounds and a magnificent view. 　　In front of the castle was the gladiatorial arena used for practicing magic, and like a traditional gladiatorial arena, there would be a dueling tournament for each grade once a month. 　　There were also dueling tournaments for the entire school, but they were held at the end of the school year to determine the winner of the cup. 　　Just thinking about it made Tver smile. 　　"After today, you can finally compete for first place." 　　Yes, since coming to Durmstrang, except for the first three years when Tver would still lose to the upperclassmen. 　　For the latter four years he had been the unquestioned number one. 　　Now, though, they'd finally get a chance to taste what it would be like to get first place. 　　"Tver, do you really want to leave here? But the principal said that the school can just hire you as a professor if you want." 　　"You know, Durmstrang is perfect for you!" 　　A boy with a shaved inch head appeared at some point, dressed only in a singlet, and with his sharp breaths, droplets of water continued to cut across his toned body and drip onto the floor. 　　Tver turned around and no matter how many times he saw it, he had to lament the boys' lanky build. 　　But he didn't have to shave his inches, which was an advantage, after all, strong people always have privileges. 　　"Are you going swimming again, Wickedore? Be careful of getting older the more you swim." 　　Viktor shook the water off his head in exasperation, wanting to get back at the other in this way. 　　Not only was the other man handsome, but even the dark circles under his eyes that were faintly visible seemed to be framed. 　　It had been this way since the day they met. 　　Tver snapped his fingers, and the water droplets that Wickedore had spilled over were deflected between them, then flew back at a faster rate, crackling against Wickedore's body. 　　Wickedore wasn't annoyed and waved his hand to block his face, the water droplets didn't work on a strong body anyway. 　　The other wouldn't treat him like that again anyway. 　　"Study hard, Wickedore," Tver patted him on the shoulder, "I've decided to go to that school, and there's still a chance we'll meet again." 　　"But I heard that's where you turned down to come to Durmstrang seven years ago?" Wickedore's expression was a little eager. 　　"I have reasons why I had to come here, and reasons why I had to leave." 　　Saying goodbye to Wickedore, Tver walked slowly through the castle, reminiscing in passing about the seven years of school. 　　It seemed to be a procedure that all graduates had to have. 　　Durmstrang was, to outsiders, a dangerous school. 　　Indeed, it was. 　　But underneath that danger were the ample protections in place at the school. 　　The most immediate feature was that it had the best hospital for black magic salvage, and could perfect the treatment of most injuries caused by black magic. 　　The first three years of every student's arrival at the school were dominated by the study of ambulance magic and defense magic. 　　It was only in their fourth year that they were exposed to black magic, and within the rules. 　　Even Durmstrang wouldn't condone it if the research went too deep and the evil thoughts were too strong, causing the black magic being studied to be too dangerous. 　　Simply because it can't be saved. 　　However, to outsiders, the study of black magic was already a mortal sin, so they didn't care about their explanation of "only studying to know how to defend". 　　Of course, this was also due to the school's "honorary alumni". 　　Tver greeted the students who came and went in a friendly manner; there were as many students who didn't know about him as those who didn't study black magic in this school. 　　After dealing with some friends, he slowly returned to the dormitory where he had lived for seven years. 　　The layout of the place was the same as when they first arrived seven years ago, clean and tidy, with suitcases neatly placed next to the beds. 　　Only this time they were leaving. 　　It was the first day of graduation for their class, and the last day of their stay at the school, and their roommates had long since gone their separate ways. 　　But he couldn't leave yet. 　　Changing the blood-red robes he was wearing, Tver put on more casual attire. 　　Thanks to their slender bodies, whatever clothes they wore were always just right. 　　Smoothing out the creases in his clothes, Tver sat quietly on his side on the familiar bed, sitting as upright as a graduate going for a job interview. 　　That was one of the advantages he had learned at Durmstrang. 　　The only sound in the silence of the bedchamber was the rustling of his fingers as he fumbled with his insignia, showing his inner unrest. 　　He was waiting for a letter, a very important reply. 　　Time passed little by little, and finally, the sound of a "click" outside the window broke the silence of the place and his thoughts. 　　Tver's mind jumped. 　　It was a strong owl, and the thousands of miles over had worn him out, but he stood dutifully outside the window, tapping on the glass with his hard beak. 　　Tver waved his wand and the window opened automatically, allowing the owl to fly in. 　　The owl steadied himself in his chair and held out a foot to Tweedledum, with a letter tied to it. 　　A letter from Hogwarts. 　　Tver quickly untied the letter. 　　On the face of the envelope was written his name and address: Scandinavia, Durmstrang Academy, Student Dormitory, second floor, far left, for Mr. Tver Foley. 　　He let out a soft chuckle. 　　The letter was as if it had been seven years ago, except the address was different, as if the obsessive-compulsive accuracy had given him a sense of going back to his previous life and the intense anticipation of receiving his acceptance letter from Hogwarts. 　　And on the back, the Hogwarts crest that he knew so well. 　　He opened the envelope impatiently and took out the letter inside: Dear Mr. Tver Foley. 　　We are pleased to inform you that your application for the position of Assistant Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts has been accepted, and that the interview will take place on July 31st at ten o'clock in the morning. 　　You will be interviewed by Professor Chilo and Professor Dumbledore, so please prepare in advance. 　　We will be waiting for your owl to bring your reply by July 10th. 　　Alternatively, you may choose to Phantom Shift to the entrance of the school, or use Flyway Powder to enter the school, and someone will be available to guide you. 　　Vice-Principal Minerva McGonagall, respectfully.