Erwin arrived at the Great Hall entrance to an odd sight. Charlotte stood there, bowing respectfully as she waited for him. Behind her, Zoe was sobbing uncontrollably.
He glanced at Charlotte in bewilderment. "What's got her in a state this time?"
Charlotte turned, eyeing the weeping girl with a shake of her head. "My lord, I've no idea. She's been off since I fetched her. You know how she can be—simple-minded at times."
Erwin nodded. "Fair point. So, Zoe, what's the matter?"
Zoe jolted at the sound of her name, her tears halting mid-stream. She wiped her face frantically. "Can you... can you kill me later? Please? I ordered roast chicken for lunch. I just want to try it once. Let me finish eating first!"
Her voice cracked as fresh sobs escaped. The idea that this might be her final meal hit her hard.
Erwin blinked, utterly baffled. "You actually want to die?"
She shook her head vigorously. "No!"
He let out a dry chuckle, rubbing his temples. Was she truly this naive, or was it all an act? Her antics since starting at Hogwarts had always leaned toward the clueless, but she had a sharp instinct for spotting deception—like when she'd confessed everything to Charlotte without prompting. Truth be told, Erwin couldn't quite figure her out. And for someone who prided himself on reading people, that was rare.
Zoe peered up at him through watery eyes, pleading silently for permission to savor her roast chicken.
The disturbance had drawn stares from passing students. Erwin sighed. "Go on, grab some breakfast. When you're done, we'll head to Diagon Alley."
Zoe's eyes widened. "Huh? You're taking me outside Hogwarts to... do it?"
Erwin's fist tightened. She was lucky his patience had grown lately; otherwise, he'd have lost it. Ignoring her, he strode into the Great Hall. Charlotte fell in step behind him, and after a beat, Zoe scurried after them.
The Slytherins rose as Erwin entered, dipping their heads in respect. He took his seat at the long table and waved them down. Then, with a light tap of his fingers on the wood, a steaming bowl of soup materialized before him.
He scooped up a spoonful, savoring the warmth. Nothing beat a hot bowl to start the day—though if there was something better, he'd have two.
Zoe inhaled deeply, the rich aroma hitting her like a spell. Her stomach growled audibly. Emboldened, she rapped the table just like him.
Nothing.
Undeterred, she tried again, harder this time. The nearby Slytherins smirked at her efforts. Only Dumbledore or Erwin could summon food with a mere knock—a fact etched into Hogwarts lore through endless failed experiments.
Erwin rolled his eyes and obliged with another tap. A second bowl appeared before Zoe.
Her face lit up like a Lumos charm. She dove in without a word, slurping eagerly.
He shook his head. The Alva family had drawn a short straw with this one as their heir.
As Erwin enjoyed his soup, hurried footsteps echoed from the entrance. He turned to see Hermione barreling toward him. A Slytherin across the table shifted aside, and she dropped into the spot without hesitation.
"Something up?" Erwin asked casually.
She leaned in, voice hushed. "I think I know what's in the Chamber of Secrets."
His spoon hovered mid-air. Then he smiled. "Well done."
"Aren't you curious?"
He shrugged. "Not really."
Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing. "You've known all along, haven't you?"
Erwin polished off the last of his soup, set down his spoon, and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Does it matter what I knew? The point is, you pieced it together yourself."
She paused, mulling it over. It sounded off, yet spot-on. "Fine, you always seem steps ahead. I've got a solid theory, but I need to hit the library to confirm it."
He nodded. "Smart. If you're right, prepare yourself. You've only got one life to lose."
"Exactly!" she burst out. "It's horrifying if that's really in there." With that, she bolted off toward the doors.
Erwin watched her go, chuckling softly. For all her brilliance, she was still just a kid—headstrong and vulnerable.
He mulled it over as he finished his meal. Hermione was closing in on the truth about the basilisk, but verification would lead her straight into danger, just as in the original tale. Erwin's presence had muddled the timeline a bit, but the core path held firm. Her petrification was inevitable; she was too sharp to ignore. Only then could Draco and Harry chase the real threat, with Erwin nudging them along.
It was time to reclaim his "pet" anyway. Once the climax hit, the basilisk would meet its end. The thought of facing a young Voldemort brought a grin—though at seventeen, the boy wouldn't remember Erwin at all. A pity; he missed his old teacher and had questions about any hidden legacies. He'd scoured everywhere but found zilch. Maybe last year, he should've let Voldemort linger a chapter or two longer to spill his secrets. Hindsight was a wandless curse.
...
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