Erwin straightened his robes and headed into the Great Hall. It was packed tighter than usual, a sea of students buzzing with low energy. He raised an eyebrow. Were all these young witches and wizards suddenly so keen on breakfast?
But as he stepped inside, the truth hit him. Every face bore heavy dark circles, like they'd all tried out the latest Muggle makeup trend gone wrong. After yesterday's chaos, only Erwin had managed a proper night's sleep.
He appeared in the doorway, and the glares turned his way—pure resentment, thick as fog. It hit him harder than the stares from Peeves on a bad day. Even Hermione Granger, who usually looked at him with quiet admiration, now eyed him with barely concealed irritation.
Erwin had faced plenty over the years: sneers, whispers, outright hostility. But this? A hall full of accusatory stares was a new low.
He made his way to the Slytherin table. Cassius spotted him and grinned. "Well, if it isn't the troublemaker himself. Look at this lot—you've got the whole school seeing red!"
Erwin shrugged. "I didn't plan on it getting this big. But things spiral sometimes."
"Fair enough," Cassius said, standing. He rapped his knuckles on the table for attention. "Listen up, everyone. As Slytherin Prefect, I'm announcing that first-year Hidden Prefect Erwin Cavendish is kicking off the Prefect Challenges. Starting today, he can call out any Hidden Prefect from any year, any time. You lot had better be ready."
The Slytherin table erupted in stunned murmurs.
"A Prefect Challenge? No one's done that in ages!"
"This year's lot is going to be brilliant."
"Can't wait to see the sparks fly."
A few first-years looked baffled—Slytherins and others alike. Harry Potter, from the Gryffindor side, leaned toward Ron Weasley. "What's a Prefect Challenge?"
Ron shrugged. "Beats me."
An older Gryffindor nearby overheard and explained. Classes hadn't started yet, so Harry was still the wide-eyed new face, drawing helpful sorts. "It's Slytherin's old tradition," the student said with a chuckle. "A first-year challenges the upper-year prefects one by one. Rare as a decent Potions essay. No one's ever won it outright—if they did, they'd be Slytherin's undisputed king."
Cassius glanced at Erwin. "Your turn—say something."
Erwin nodded. "Seniors, I'm looking forward to crossing wands with you all."
Cassius checked his watch. "Right, time's ticking. Off to classes. Prefects, wrangle your years. Erwin, your first one's Transfiguration—you'll find the classroom. Just mind the moving staircases; they're devils when they feel like it."
Erwin nodded. The upper-year prefects rose, herding students with crisp efficiency. Slytherin ran like clockwork under them—no stragglers, no chaos. It was the house's discipline that had drawn Erwin in from the start.
As the older students filed out, a few prefects stopped to greet him. Charlotte Teresa, the fourth-year Hidden Prefect and the only girl in the role, approached with a warm smile. "I've got faith in you, junior. Can't wait for you to take a swing at me."
"Soon enough, senior," Erwin replied.
She laughed and led her year away.
Erwin turned to join the first-years, but a hulking figure blocked his path—the fifth-year Hidden Prefect, Marcus Flint. His crooked grin, framed by those infamous braces, twisted into something menacing.
"Big talk from a cocky first-year," Marcus growled. "Prefect Challenge, eh? Come at me if you dare. I'll show you what real power looks like—arrogance won't save you."
Erwin's temper flared, but he kept it leashed. "Strength? Yours looks a bit... lacking. Move it— we're late for class."
Marcus's face reddened. "Watch your mouth, kid. Step out of line, and I'll sort you myself."
Erwin ignored him, waving the first-years onward toward Transfiguration. They reached the base of the grand staircases soon enough. But instead of their usual stately shuffle, the steps jerked and twisted like they were possessed—platforms flipping, railings vanishing, the whole lot in wild disarray.
Erwin frowned. Weren't these things supposed to follow some enchanted pattern? This was pure mayhem.
The other first-years stared, bewildered. "What's wrong with them?"
"How do we even get up there now?"
"Anyone know the way?"
All eyes turned to Erwin. He paused, a suspicion forming. Could the castle be... toying with him?
He drew his wand. The group watched curiously.
"Listen up," Erwin said firmly. "One chance: clear a path to Transfiguration. Or I'll test just how unbreakable these stairs really are."
The first-years gaped. Malfoy snorted from the back. "What, you threatening a castle? Brilliant plan."
But then, under their wide-eyed stares, the staircases halted their frenzy. Steps realigned with soft groans, forming a straight shot to the classroom above.
Erwin's pulse quickened. Hogwarts wasn't just stone and spells—it was alive, thoughtful. The furnishings, the portraits, even the stairs had minds of their own. This tantrum? Likely the castle's idea of hazing the new blood.
"Right," Erwin said. "Let's move—time's wasting."
He stepped onto the now-steady path, the others hurrying after him.