After leaving Hagrid's hut, Erwin abandoned his plan to explore the Forbidden Forest that night. Truth be told, if it weren't utterly pointless, he wouldn't dream of venturing there under cover of darkness.
The Forbidden Forest was no stroll in the park—it was Hogwarts' deadliest spot, bar none. With Voldemort slinking around the castle, who knew what chaos might erupt? In the original story, Voldemort had no interest in hunting unicorns there yet. But Erwin had already proven the plot could shift.
He headed back toward the castle, skirting the Black Lake and the courtyard. Night transformed Hogwarts into something ominous, like a beast lurking in the shadows, jaws parted for the unwary. Erwin knew better than most: the castle itself was a colossal enchanted artifact.
They reached the corridor, lined with stern statues on either side—the backbone of Hogwarts' defenses. In the books, Professor McGonagall could animate them to crush intruders. Their power was formidable.
As Erwin studied them, his instincts flared. With a flick of his wrist, his wand slipped into his hand.
"Protego!"
A shimmering purple shield enveloped him, faint but discernible in form.
The next instant, a streak of multicolored magic slammed into the barrier, fizzling harmlessly.
Erwin whipped his wand toward the gloom on his right while drawing a small object in his left. "Who's there?"
Footsteps echoed from the darkness.
"Mr. Cavendish, shouldn't you be in bed at this hour? Wandering the halls like a first-year?"
Erwin's brow furrowed. A figure emerged—an elegant silhouette cloaked in black.
"Professor Snape?"
What was this? Snape materializing from nowhere and firing off a spell? The shield had absorbed it without much force—just a mild sting, nothing more.
Snape's voice cut through the dim light. "Put that Muggle contraption away. You know it won't touch me."
Erwin complied with the grenade but kept his wand gripped tight, knuckles whitening.
Snape's eyes flicked to the motion, a glint of approval in their depths. "When facing a superior foe, stay sharp—but learn to play the weak card, too."
Erwin inclined his head. "Point taken, Professor."
Snape glanced back the way Erwin had come. "The Forbidden Forest?"
Erwin shook his head. "No, sir. Just visiting Hagrid."
Snape's lips twisted in that familiar sneer. Mockery was his default, no matter the company. "I hardly pegged you for the type to befriend a half-giant."
Erwin chuckled. "That's a bit unfair, Professor. I actually like making connections. You know what they say: a friend in need is a friend indeed."
Snape snorted. "I didn't realize the boy who upended Hogwarts on day one had such a taste for wizarding proverbs."
"Professor," Erwin pressed, "you didn't track me down just to take the mickey, did you? I own my mistake—being out past curfew isn't smart."
"Nighttime jaunts?" Snape drawled. "Hardly a crime; Gryffindors make a habit of it. But as a Slytherin—and our Prefect—no less—if you're just chasing thrills like those reckless lions, you'll disappoint me. Out with it: what's your game?"
Erwin met his gaze steadily. "Of course, Professor. Slytherins look out for their own. I've just bought a shop in Diagon Alley, so I need to offload some magical creature parts or potions. Hagrid, as gamekeeper, has access to plenty."
No point hiding it; nothing shady about a bit of enterprise. And if this drew Snape closer as an ally? That could prove invaluable—though alliances like that took time.
Snape exhaled almost inaudibly, tension easing from his frame. "Good. At least you remember your house. Night wanderings are one thing, but parading about like this? Cease it, or you'll cost Slytherin points—and trust me, you won't enjoy the fallout."
"Understood, sir."
Snape waved him off. "Back to bed, then."
Erwin nodded and turned. As he walked away, Snape added, "And steer clear of the Forbidden Forest for now."
Erwin hesitated, curiosity burning, but he simply nodded again and continued on.
Snape watched him go, a sigh escaping. Disappointment mingled with respect. Erwin's wariness stung—even now, he hadn't lowered his wand. Yet that same caution was admirable, a mark of survival.
In the quiet corridor, Snape murmured to the shadows, "You've raised an exceptional boy, Tobias. He'll surpass us all."
At last, Erwin reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room and allowed himself to relax. He stowed his wand.
Snape had always treated him decently, but Erwin never dropped his guard. It was second nature.
To thrive in London's cutthroat wizarding scene at his age, to elevate the Cavendish name from the brink—that demanded vigilance, not blind trust. Luck had nearly killed him once; he wouldn't tempt it again.
Ruthless? Perhaps. But it kept him breathing.