Erwin tested the effects of his new title, though he hadn't yet experimented with its magic amplification. The added authority it granted felt genuinely useful, a subtle edge in any confrontation.
But something nagged at him. "The fourth Dark Lord?" he muttered, scrutinizing the words "Fourth Generation" etched before his title. His eyes narrowed. "This can't be right. System, explain!"
[Host, please speak.]
"The first Dark Lord was Grindelwald. The second, Voldemort. So who makes this the fourth? Did you slip another young wizard into the mix?"
[Please investigate yourself, host. The System is absolutely error-free. Besides, Grindelwald isn't the first Dark Lord.]
Erwin's pupils dilated in shock. Grindelwald, not the first? Then who was?
Slytherin? No, the founder had been ruthless, but he'd never earned the moniker "Dark Lord." From what Erwin recalled of magical history, no such figure predated the wizarding world's better-known tyrants.
Puzzled, he headed to class, mind racing. He slid into his seat in the History of Magic classroom, still turning the question over. The chamber was dim and stuffy, as always, filled with first-years stifling yawns.
Then Professor Cuthbert Binns glided through the wall, his spectral form settling at the podium. The ghostly professor launched into his usual drone about goblin rebellions, his voice a monotonous whisper that lulled half the class to sleep.
Erwin, however, perked up. If anyone could unravel this mystery, it was Binns. As Hogwarts' oldest teacher—dating back to the school's founding—he'd witnessed centuries of wizarding events firsthand. He'd even known the four founders personally, a living (or unliving) archive of magical lore.
Binns' lessons had grown tedious over the years, reduced to rote recitations that bored students senseless. But that wasn't always the case. Long ago, his first lectures on Hogwarts' history had ignited wonder in new students, filling their heads with tales of ancient spells and legendary duels. A thousand years of teaching would dull anyone's spark, though.
Still, no one alive—or once alive—knew magical history like Binns. As the professor droned on from the textbook, Erwin raised his hand.
The class stirred, sleepy heads lifting in surprise. Binns paused, his translucent eyes flickering toward Erwin with mild curiosity. He was accustomed to silence, not interruptions.
"You there," Binns said, peering closer. "Erwin Cavendish, isn't it? The other professors speak highly of you. Quite outstanding, they say. What can I do for you, Mr. Cavendish?"
Erwin kept his tone polite but direct. "Sorry to interrupt your lecture, Professor. I just read something intriguing in an old book—something that doesn't match what I've learned elsewhere. As the foremost expert on Hogwarts history, I thought you might clarify it."
Even a ghost could appreciate flattery. Binns' ethereal features softened, and he adjusted his spectacles. "Very well, Mr. Cavendish. What's your question?"
Erwin leaned forward. "The book mentioned a Dark Lord who came before Grindelwald. That struck me as odd—I've never heard of anyone like that in standard texts."
The classroom went dead silent. Eyes widened around the room; even the doziest students sat up straight. This was gossip worth hearing—real history, not the usual goblin drudgery.
Binns nodded sagely. "Ah, you've stumbled on an ancient tome, then. Modern books gloss over it entirely."
Erwin's pulse quickened. So it was true. "Could you tell us about him, Professor?"
Binns floated a fraction higher, his voice gaining a rare hint of animation. "Of course. It begins in the shadowed corners of the eleventh century..."