After chatting with Grindelwald about Voldemort for a while, Tver realized Cynthia still hadn't come downstairs.
"Does tidying a room really take that long?"
"Cynthia may not be a house-elf, but she shouldn't need half a day to tidy up."
Grindelwald looked equally puzzled. "Why don't you go check?"
Tver immediately set down his knife and fork. Though Cynthia's strength was below his own, she had long held second place at Durmstrang. Even if she ran into trouble, there should have been some sign of it. Still, unease stirred in his chest.
The lights upstairs were off, with only faint moonlight spilling through the windows. But as he reached the last step of the staircase, he caught a sound—
Someone was crying.
"Cynthia?"
He pushed the door open hard. A glowing orb shot into the room, lighting up the scene inside.
Cynthia was kneeling by the doorway, sobbing, wand trembling in her hand, her entire body shaking.
Lying on the carpet, limbs sprawled, was Tver.
His face was deathly pale, and congealed blood stained the corner of his mouth. He was unmistakably dead.
The next moment, Cynthia sniffled and waved her wand at "him."
"Riddikulus!"
At once, "Tver" came to life again, standing before her in formal attire, a bouquet of roses in hand.
"N-no… sorry."
She quickly flicked her wand again, and the image of him dissolved into a wisp of black smoke, vanishing into the air.
As it faded, Tver's light spell disappeared too, leaving the room dim once more. Only the pale moonlight from outside faintly revealed the girl's fragile expression.
It was the first time Tver had ever seen her like this. No matter how difficult things became, Cynthia had always carried herself with confidence. Of course, with her ability and talent, few things ever truly challenged her.
Tver glanced around, then reached down to help her up.
Even the most beautiful girl didn't look her best with tears streaming down her face and snot threatening to drip into her mouth.
"Sniff."
The snot didn't go back up.
Amused by how endearing she looked, Tver shook his head and chuckled softly.
In the dim light, Cynthia could only make out Tver's silhouette—but in her eyes, that outline grew sharper and sharper.
He was silently stepping closer. Closer still, until she could feel his breath and the faint scent that lingered on him.
Thud.
Her back met the wall behind her.
Cynthia's heart pounded faster. When Tver braced his left hand against the wall and leaned his head toward her, her pulse raced so wildly she thought it might burst.
"Let's do something that can only be done in the dark," Tver whispered softly in her ear.
"D-do… do what?" Cynthia stammered, gripping her skirt tightly, her face burning so hot it felt like it would explode.
Whether from fear or anticipation, she shut her eyes tight, her trembling eyelids betraying the chaos in her heart.
"Turn on the light."
Tver chuckled softly as he pressed the wall switch. With a click, the entire room lit up.
He turned to take in the surroundings. The design was old-fashioned and simple—just a bed, a desk, and a few chairs—but it was enough. Refinement and luxury were never necessities for him.
Cynthia finally came back to her senses, wiping away the tears from her face. Her cheeks still flushed, she walked over to Tver and asked hesitantly, "Did I look pathetic just now?"
"Of course not. On the contrary, I'm grateful for your concern," Tver said, waving his wand to remove all traces of magic from the room. "I remember this used to be a Muggle house. How did a Boggart end up here?"
At the mention of business, Cynthia regained her usual composure.
"Actually, a long time ago, this used to belong to an old wizard. But after his death, the protective enchantments on this room gradually faded, and eventually a Muggle family bought it."
"However, some traces of magic remained. After living here for two years, that family moved out, and later, Mr. Grindelwald bought the place."
Tver nodded approvingly. What he appreciated most about Cynthia was how she always provided clear, detailed answers when it came to practical matters.
"What about the professor? What has he been doing lately?"
He wasn't trying to spy on his teacher. He was simply worried that after leaving Nurmengard, Grindelwald might draw attention from the Austrian Ministry of Magic—or even the International Confederation of Wizards.
Though Nurmengard was now little more than an empty shell and the teacher's presence was largely ignored by the modern wizarding world, some of the old wizards still feared the name Grindelwald. After all, his rule over Europe hadn't been achieved with mere words.
Cynthia thought for a moment, then answered quickly and clearly. "He's been pretending to be an ordinary Muggle old man."
"At first, he made a fool of himself because he didn't know how to act the part. But by the second day, he was already greeting and chatting with Muggles like it was second nature."
"According to Mr. Grindelwald, he spends his days wandering around nearby schools, observing Muggle science and ways of thinking."
"At night, he mostly stays in his room. I tried probing a few times—he was either looking through old photo albums or experimenting with Transfiguration. But I think he noticed me."
Guilt was written all over her face.
Tver looked unsurprised. "I never meant to hide anything from the professor. But since he hasn't objected, let's avoid any more probing for now."
"By the way, did you ever bring up the idea of making him a wand?"
Cynthia's expression fell. "I did, several times. But he always says he's a failure, and that there's no reason for him to show his face again."
Tver nodded slightly. He had hoped his teacher might step in one day to help him resolve certain problems. But it seemed that the weight of past defeat had closed the man's heart completely.
Still, the one who tied the knot must be the one to untie it.
And who that would be—only time would tell. Perhaps even convincing Dumbledore someday would require the teacher's help.
"You've worked hard lately," Tver said, lowering his wand and turning to face Cynthia. "But I have one last question."
"Are you truly willing to follow me—to chase after that nearly impossible dream—even if I just stay a carefree professor at Hogwarts?"
He had only ever shared his greatest vision since coming to this world with Grindelwald and Cynthia.
For now, he was still fighting for his life, pouring his energy into uncovering the secrets of the Crest. His power was still far from enough to challenge the deeply rooted beliefs of the wizarding world. At the very least, he would need to surpass Dumbledore before he could even try.
Sensing Tver's solemn tone, Cynthia's expression grew serious. She met his gaze with fierce determination, her cheeks faintly flushed with excitement.
"I'll follow you for life," she declared with steady conviction, her voice filled with strength. "Even if this world rejects us!"
Just the thought of overturning the Statute of Secrecy made her blood race with excitement.