Dumbledore did not mind Tver asking him about Gubraithian Fire. If anything, he was more than happy to see Tver study more white magic.
No matter how much Tver tried to replace practice with research, it could not change the fact that dark magic was inherently corrosive to the mind. Even with his formidable willpower, there were times when he had to vent the agitation and pressure building inside him through violence.
That was simply unavoidable when practicing dark magic.
Which was why, even as he refined his dark magic, Tver also devoted himself to studying white magic, doing his best to reduce his dependence on the dark arts.
After breakfast and saying goodbye to Dumbledore, Tver returned to his office to prepare for his upcoming study of Gubraithian Fire.
As a model student, previewing material ahead of time had long since become a habit.
What he did not expect was that this spell would be far more troublesome than he had imagined. He searched through the entire library and failed to find a single work that truly analyzed its underlying nature.
General descriptions, however, were everywhere.
As a famous spell, Gubraithian Fire was mentioned in almost every book that dealt with flames. The problem was that these books all reduced it to a few vague lines about its eternal nature. When it came to the crucial points—how it was cast, why it could burn eternally, and how its destructive power was sustained—they were conspicuously silent.
So frustrated that he simply gave up, Tver shifted his attention to Godric Gryffindor.
Godric was the last founder he needed to investigate, and also the one with the fewest remaining clues.
Aside from Gryffindor House itself, all Godric had left behind at Hogwarts was the Sword of Gryffindor.
Back when Tver had gone into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Harry and Percy, he had taken the opportunity to observe the sword up close.
What struck him as strange was that the magical fluctuations on the sword were extremely faint, so faint that they were even weaker than those of most goblin-made artifacts. If Tver had not confirmed that it really was the Sword of Gryffindor, complete with its dust-repelling properties, he might have mistaken it for an ordinary Muggle-forged longsword.
At first, he could not understand why that was. But at a certain point, he suddenly recalled the stories surrounding Godric.
It was said that Godric once fought with a sword in one hand and a wand in the other, making him the most formidable combatant among the four founders.
If told today, most people would probably dismiss such tales as nothing more than legend.
After all, facing long-range magic attacks with a close-combat weapon was no different from claiming one could fight modern warfare with throwing knives in the Muggle world. It was not entirely impossible, but it offered very little practical advantage, and certainly not enough to create a legendary powerhouse.
Yet Tver found himself increasingly willing to believe those stories.
If someone had told him last year that it was possible to fuse one's soul with a building, he would have laughed it off as nonsense.
But the more records he gathered about Godric, the more convinced he became that this fighting style had truly existed.
That Sword of Gryffindor, when facing long-range attacks, may very well have served as a defensive shield.
Considering that the sword could absorb and strengthen itself through whatever it absorbed, Tver arrived at a bold idea.
Could magic itself be one of the things that strengthened the sword?
If that were the case, then Godric could absorb any spell directed at him through the sword and immediately launch a counterattack in peak condition, all while saving himself the need to cast a Shield Charm.
And even if that was not the case, the sword's inherent toughness alone would allow it to withstand ordinary spells and function as a barrier all the same.
Viewed from that angle, the idea that Godric might have merged his soul into the sword was not entirely impossible.
Tver looked out the window at the sunlight, which was slowly dimming.
Fortunately, it was the weekend. If it had been a weekday, few students would have had the presence of mind to focus in class.
But today, there were no lessons, and the students were all outside, laughing and playing.
On the large ship by the Black Lake, Durmstrang students could be seen coming and going at intervals.
Compared to their homeland, Hogwarts' Halloween Eve weather felt almost warm to them. Most had already shrugged off their fur-lined coats, revealing solid muscles as they eyed the calm surface of the Black Lake, clearly itching to jump in.
However, someone had evidently reminded them that the Black Lake was not the same as Durmstrang's frozen lake. Too many magical creatures lurked beneath its surface, so for now, no one had actually gone swimming.
The Beauxbatons students, by contrast, were far more reserved and largely stayed inside their carriage. Tver suspected it had less to do with temperament and more with the fact that their robes were rather thin. Unlike the Durmstrang students, they were not accustomed to the cold and simply could not handle the late-October chill creeping toward November.
As evening fell, Tver tidied up the scattered documents on his desk and stood to leave his office.
As for whether Godric's soul truly resided within the Sword of Gryffindor, he would have to find an opportunity to verify that for himself…
"Professor, will there still be those little imps at this year's Halloween feast?"
As he walked down the corridor, an airy, almost ethereal voice suddenly slipped into Tver's ears.
"Oh, it's you, Luna."
The girl's sudden appearance gave him a small start.
"Sorry, what did you just say?"
"Isn't tonight Halloween Eve? In previous years, you always had those imps hand out sweets to us."
Luna gently repeated herself.
"Did I interrupt your train of thought?" she asked apologetically.
"No, not at all. I mean, it wasn't anything important. You don't need to worry," Tver reassured her.
"Do you really like Halloween candy that much?" he asked.
"Hmm… I suppose so," Luna said, tilting her head as she thought it over, her answer vague.
"Suppose so?"
She leaned in closer, as if afraid someone else might overhear, and whispered in a slightly sheepish voice, "It's not really the candy I like. Candy is nice, of course, but what I really like are the little imps."
This…
Tver looked at her with a strange expression. This was the first time he had heard someone so directly say that they liked the imps themselves.
Others had said similar things before, but usually because the imps had helped them in some way. Luna was different. She did not like the candy the imps brought. She liked the imps.
"Can you tell me why?" Tver asked.
"Of course," Luna replied, nodding proudly.
"They look so carefree. It feels like they're just observers of the world."
"But at the same time, they're covered in Wrackspurts and seem bothered by all sorts of things."
"Aren't those two traits contradictory?" Tver asked, intrigued.
"Of course not," Luna said, puffing out her cheeks in mild annoyance. "Even the smartest, most confident students get troubled by homework!"
She pursed her lips slightly, as though this odd comparison applied to her as well.
Tver shook his head with an amused smile.
Nothing Luna said ever truly surprised him. Besides, she was not wrong.
"Alright, then. I almost forgot that tonight is Halloween Eve," he said. "Since you like it so much, I suppose I'll have to decorate properly this time."