Erwin's eyes lit up at Voldemort's words. It seemed he might be on the verge of an unexpected windfall.
"Master," he asked, "you want me to head to the Forbidden Forest, but how will I find what you've hidden there?"
Voldemort replied, "You'll know when you arrive. Remember, Erwin—if I fail to secure the Philosopher's Stone, wait patiently for my return. Don't act on my behalf; you're not ready yet. Your time to shine will come when I reclaim my power."
Erwin nodded solemnly. Of course, he had no intention of lifting a finger for Voldemort. He wasn't daft; he'd only sought this audience to squeeze out more advantages. Still, Voldemort's current haze of weakness had played right into his hands. His performance had been spot-on.
"Teacher," Erwin continued, "there's something you should know. Dumbledore suspects something's off with Professor Quirrell. For your safety, you ought to switch vessels as soon as possible."
Voldemort's voice rasped thoughtfully. "Expected, really. I never thought Quirrell could deceive Dumbledore indefinitely. What do you suggest for a new vessel?"
Erwin paused, feigning deep consideration. "It's unclear if Quirrell's fully exposed, but using his body to claim the Stone would be risky—you'd draw unwanted attention. Better to change beforehand, adopt a stranger's face. It would make things smoother for you."
Voldemort mulled it over. His fragmented mind struggled with such details, but Erwin's logic rang true. Continuing with Quirrell could indeed invite disaster, slashing his odds of success. He couldn't afford that.
"I've already slipped away from Hogwarts once to scout a new host," Voldemort admitted.
Erwin inclined his head. "Wise, Master. And if you'd allow, I could help refine the details of your plan."
Voldemort, now eager for Erwin's counsel, leaned in. No Death Eater enjoyed such privilege—this was the unbreakable bond of master and disciple, a rare loyalty that stirred even the Dark Lord's withered heart.
"Speak your mind," Voldemort urged.
Erwin outlined his strategy carefully. "For the plan to succeed without a hitch, timing is key. Christmas strikes me as ideal. Dumbledore's away and unlikely to return for the holidays. With most students gone home, the castle thins out—fewer patrols, laxer security amid the festivities. Chaos from the crowds will let you slip in undetected with your new face."
Voldemort nodded. "Christmas it is, then."
"With your new vessel, Quirrell, and me united," Erwin pressed, "few at Hogwarts could stand in your way."
Voldemort wavered. He'd intended to dispatch Quirrell outright, but an extra ally might tip the scales. More than that, he'd noted Quirrell's deference to Erwin. In these fractured times, with his followers rotting in Azkaban, Voldemort cherished his disciple's safety. Quirrell could serve as a safeguard.
"You're right," he conceded, "but stay hidden. Don't act or reveal yourself. Dumbledore may be absent, but the professors and Heads of House remain formidable. You're not ready to face them."
Erwin shook his head. "No, Master—danger doesn't frighten me. I'd give everything for your triumph."
The words struck deep. Even his most devoted Death Eaters offered mere duty; their loyalty was rote. But Erwin—this brilliant, willing apprentice—ignited something profound in Voldemort. In that instant, his resolve hardened: upon his return, Erwin would rise as the Death Eaters' young lord, his unchallenged heir in the coming reign of terror. The Dark Lord, for all his ruthlessness, had a soft spot after all.
Yet Erwin, the object of such grand designs, plotted with cold pragmatism. While dispensing advice, his thoughts raced toward maximizing his gains—and engineering Voldemort's downfall, sending the tyrant to join Merlin in the afterlife.
"Obey me, Erwin," Voldemort insisted. "You're my disciple; I won't risk you. This mission doesn't need you yet, but your day will come. In a few days, I'll depart again to secure a vessel. I'll leave Quirrell behind as your protector while I'm gone—he'll be your right hand."
Erwin didn't push further, yielding with practiced grace. "Forgive me, Teacher. My skills fall short; I only wish to aid your great cause."
"Plenty of chances ahead," Voldemort assured him. "Now, is there anything else you need clarified? After today, stay away from here. Once it's done, I'll seek you out."
Two hours later, Erwin slipped from Quirrell's office. It had been Voldemort's final lesson of the term, and he'd absorbed every scrap of knowledge.
With Quirrell's dilemma resolved, all that remained was to bide his time until the plan unfolded—restoring Voldemort to his spectral form and completing the school's main quest.
Squeezing more from the Dark Lord seemed futile now. As for the mysterious item hidden in the Forbidden Forest, Erwin had no clue what it might be, but anticipation stirred within him.
...
Guys, here is the 15-chapter drop!
Thanks for the incredible support to reach this milestone. Enjoy the read, and let's get started on the next goal immediately!
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