Ever since Tom received the Dark Mark from Erwin, he'd become impervious to ordinary Muggle-repelling charms. No magic in him, true, but he was proving handy in other ways—much like a Squib, really. That meant Tom could safely handle errands in Diagon Alley, keeping Erwin's new shop running smoothly.
Erwin folded the letter and leaned back, staring out the window of his Hogwarts dorm. He still hadn't pinned down a solid plan for the place. Perhaps it was in his English blood; wherever he went, the itch for a proper business venture followed, the only thing that ever settled his restless mind.
If Hogwarts had one endless resource ripe for the picking, it had to be ingredients from magical creatures or the Forbidden Forest's hidden bounty. Hagrid would have stacks of the stuff.
Gazing into the night, Erwin spotted the faint glow of Hagrid's hut beyond the dark treeline. Sleep wasn't coming anyway. Why not pay the gamekeeper a visit? Float a business idea, see if he'd bite.
With that, Erwin dissolved into a swirl of purple smoke and Apparated toward the forest edge.
Unbeknownst to him, high in the castle's tallest tower, Dumbledore stood by his office window, watching the violet trail streak away. A wry smile tugged at his lips. "What a mysterious young wizard. Or do all the Cavendish lot pull this sort of stunt? Apparition at your age—hardly standard curriculum. I wonder if Snape's hints will draw you to that old friend of his. You might be in for a shock when you do."
The Headmaster's thoughts drifted, his gaze distant. After all, she had been his one lost love.
Erwin reappeared silently before Hagrid's door, the hut's lantern light cutting through the gloom like a beacon. No chance of missing it amid the Forbidden Forest's shadows.
He knocked firmly on the weathered wood. Clatters and thumps echoed from inside.
"Who's there?" Hagrid's voice boomed, laced with alarm.
Erwin suppressed a grin. It sounded like the big man was tinkering with something precarious.
"It's me, Hagrid—Erwin Cavendish!" he called.
The door flew open, revealing Hagrid's massive frame, his beetle-black eyes wide with surprise and delight.
"Blimey, Erwin! What brings you out here so late?"
Erwin chuckled. "Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd drop by. You did invite me to visit, remember? Bad timing?"
Hagrid shook his shaggy head. "Nah, just caught me off guard. Folks don't wander down here after dark—especially not first-years!"
"Well, then, mind if I come in for a chat?"
"Of course! Come on in."
Erwin stepped inside, navigating the cozy clutter. Brass pots and animal hides cluttered every surface, but it smelled of woodsmoke and earth—lived-in, not filthy. He settled on a creaky chair as Hagrid poured a murky green brew from a dented kettle.
Erwin eyed the stuff dubiously but didn't touch it. "You know, Hagrid, a lot of students sneak around at night. I'm hardly the first."
Hagrid scratched his beard, chuckling. "Fair point, I s'pose."
"I've got something serious in mind, actually," Erwin said. "I need supplies—magical creature bits, potion ingredients. You've got to have extras from your patrols."
Hagrid's face lit up. "Loads! I pick up all sorts in the Forest. What d'you need? I'll sort you out for free."
Erwin waved him off. "Not handouts, mate. I've opened a shop in Diagon Alley, and I'm looking to buy wholesale. Reckon we could do a steady trade?"
Hagrid blinked, then grinned. "A shop? Well, I'll be. Might not be enough stock for a full go, but let's see." He lumbered to his feet. "Follow me."
They ducked out to a lean-to shed beside the hut. Hagrid shoved the door open, and Erwin borrowed the lantern to peer inside.
His jaw dropped. The place was a treasure trove on the verge of hoarding disaster—overflowing crates of bundled herbs, shimmering vials of dried potions, and pelts in every size. Some had lost potency from poor storage, left to molder in heaps. But gems shone through: a cluster of pristine white hairs, still faintly luminous with an ethereal glow. Unicorn hair, bundled like it was nothing special.
"Merlin's beard," Erwin muttered. "This is incredible. But some of it's spoiled. Why not sell it off?"
Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders. "Those Diagon Alley shops? Mostly run by pure-blood outfits. They lowball me something fierce, tryin' to squeeze the little guy. You get the picture."
Erwin nodded. Greed didn't discriminate between worlds. "I'll take it all—at market rate. Sound fair?"
Hagrid waved his hands frantically. "Too generous! You'd barely turn a profit."
"Don't worry," Erwin said with a smirk. "I've got the margins figured. From now on, I'll buy your whole haul weekly. Patrol a bit extra if you can?"
"Easy as pie. The Forest's full of it."
Erwin's mind raced. Hagrid was sitting on a fortune, just hadn't cashed it in. This deal was a steal.
"If I need specifics from deeper in the woods," Erwin added, "could you track 'em down?"
"Most things, yeah. Name it."
"Not yet—just testing the waters."
Back in the hut, they tallied the lot. Erwin paid up front in Galleons, watching Hagrid's eyes widen at the sum. But transport was the snag—how to shift this mountain to Diagon Alley without raising eyebrows?
Hagrid caught his frown. "Problem, Erwin?"
"Getting it to the shop without a Floo or owl post nightmare."
The gamekeeper scratched his chin. "I could handle delivery. Got my ways."
Erwin's face brightened. "Brilliant! You're a lifesaver. Here's the address—drop shipments weekly, and I'll have someone meet you."
Hagrid pocketed the note with a nod. "Deal. Looking forward to it."
As Erwin slipped out into the night, a quiet satisfaction settled over him. Hogwarts' secrets were about to line his pockets—and Hagrid's too.