"I'd like to ask, when might Professor Fawley give this old man a lesson as well?"
Tver looked helplessly up at Dumbledore, who stood above him.
The Headmaster's usual warmth was gone. His expression was calm and distant, his hands resting naturally at his sides as his wand tapped lightly against his thigh. A faint scent of smoke and ash lingered on him.
Even in such a relaxed stance, the pressure he exuded was overwhelming.
Still, Tver couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride—being regarded so seriously by the greatest wizard alive, to the point he nearly took up a combat posture, was something in itself.
He calmly put his wand away. There was no point fighting Dumbledore now. Even if he could win, he certainly shouldn't.
Like he was greeting an old friend, Tver gave a casual wave.
"Good evening, Headmaster Dumbledore."
He walked up the steps, one at a time, until he stood right in front of him.
Dumbledore's expression softened slightly. There was curiosity now in those sharp blue eyes that stayed fixed on Tver's own, measuring him in silence.
"If we were somewhere else, I wouldn't mind talking with you all night," he said evenly. "But here, I think you owe me an explanation."
"An explanation?" Tver's eyes flicked thoughtfully. "If I told you I was here to save Harry and stop Quirrell and Voldemort—would you believe me?"
Dumbledore gave a dry laugh. "Believe you? Of course. Harry and his friends are all safe, Quirrell is dead, and Voldemort has been driven off. You've certainly done a fine deed."
"If not for that Philosopher's Stone sitting in your pocket, I'd already be recommending you for the Order of Merlin."
His smile faded as he took a step closer, lifting his chin slightly. His gaze turned questioning, tinged with quiet disappointment.
"From the first day you entered this school, I've been watching you," he said. "You have incredible potential, Tver. As Voldemort himself said, you are the most gifted young wizard I have ever met—more talented than I ever was.
Give it ten years, and you could surpass me entirely. You could become the strongest wizard in the world."
He paused. "But please, don't repeat the same mistake that I once did—don't walk down the wrong path. That kind of mistake… is one you could never bear for the rest of your life."
Finally, Dumbledore spoke with calm sincerity. "Give me the Philosopher's Stone, and I can make all this disappear. You'll remain the most beloved professor at this school. How about that?"
To his disappointment, Tver only shook his head.
"I must obtain the Stone—"
Before he could finish, Dumbledore cut him off sharply.
"For immortality? You're still young. When you've lived long enough, you'll realize eternal life is nothing but a curse."
"Or is it for gold? Your family's fortune could last you several lifetimes, and with your talent, you could easily earn more."
Tver was, admittedly, moved by those words.
He had, after all, gained yet another elder who cared for him.
But he couldn't exactly tell Dumbledore that his goal was to resurrect the soul sealed within Voldemort's Horcrux.
Fortunately, he had a different card to play.
"You say I could surpass you in ten years," Tver said lightly, "but what if I don't even live that long?"
He raised his right hand. His robe sleeve slid down, revealing a small, black mark on his wrist.
It was faint—but Dumbledore saw it instantly.
He reached out swiftly with his left hand, gripping Tver's forearm and pulling it close to examine. The distance between them was so small that Tver could feel the heat of Dumbledore's focused gaze.
With a light touch of his other hand, a wisp of black smoke curled up from the mark, coiling along his finger before dissipating into the air.
But the mark didn't fade. Instead, it writhed and churned more violently, reacting to Dumbledore's touch.
Tver had to channel a burst of magic to suppress it again.
You really couldn't leave it alone, could you? There goes another day off my fifty-year lifespan.
He grumbled silently, though his face remained fixed in a polite, unbothered smile.
"It's a curse—a nearly fatal one."
"Then how did you survive?" Dumbledore asked, his tone tinged with regret.
"By studying dark magic to keep it suppressed. Of course, my teacher's guidance played a major role."
A faint smile curved at the corner of Tver's lips. He was already looking forward to Dumbledore's reaction.
Dumbledore nodded slowly in understanding.
"The curse is contained, but it still eats away at your life constantly. Only something as extraordinary as the Philosopher's Stone could supply the vitality you need to keep going."
"However," Dumbledore added thoughtfully, "I can't recall many wizards capable of such a powerful countermeasure against dark magic. Tell me, who is your teacher? Surely not Voldemort?"
Tver couldn't help but grin, his eyes narrowing in amusement.
"You're very familiar with him," he said lightly. "Gellert Grindelwald."
For a brief moment, Dumbledore's face froze. It was barely noticeable, but his voice grew noticeably stiffer.
"He's been imprisoned in Nurmengard all this time, hasn't he?"
"Being confined in Nurmengard doesn't stop him from teaching me a few spells—or helping me deal with curses," Tver replied casually.
"So, he was the one who told you to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"
Well, that part really wasn't his teacher's fault. Grindelwald did know Nicolas Flamel possessed the Philosopher's Stone, but he couldn't possibly have known it had been moved to Dumbledore's care.
Still, Grindelwald had once suggested that Tver seek out Flamel, which ended up inspiring this whole plan to come to Hogwarts.
"Of course not," Tver said firmly, taking the blame himself to protect his teacher's name. "My teacher's grown much kinder these days. This sneaky business was entirely my own idea."
Dumbledore let out a short, derisive laugh. "Kindness? That word has never belonged to Grindelwald."
"It's true," Tver said earnestly, looking him straight in the eye. "If you don't believe me, you can go and talk to him yourself. He's really changed."
Not that Tver believed Dumbledore would actually do it. According to Grindelwald, the two of them hadn't seen each other since the day he was imprisoned.
Dumbledore didn't respond to that. He shot Tver a glance, then began pacing back and forth in thought. After a moment, he spoke again.
"Since the Philosopher's Stone can save your life, I have the authority to let you have it."
"But as Grindelwald's student, I must make sure you haven't been corrupted by dark magic—or dangerous ideas."
"So… you're expelling me from Hogwarts?" Tver asked, feigning surprise.
"Quite the opposite," Dumbledore said sternly. "You won't be leaving at all. Until I'm completely certain, you'll come to see me once every week!"
He didn't add any restrictions or formal punishments—just turned and started to leave.
Tver blinked. Wait, was this… ideological education?
He quickly called after him. "What about holidays, then? I won't have to spend summer break here with you, right?"
"Of course holidays are holidays!" Dumbledore's voice echoed faintly down the corridor.