Professor Flitwick beamed from the podium, oblivious to the chatter rippling through the classroom as students clustered around Erwin for help. What a model student—talented, helpful, and always pitching in. He belonged in Ravenclaw, no question. Sure, they already had Hermione, a star in her own right, but who could complain about too much talent? Flitwick was convinced the Sorting Hat had glitched, dumping such a bright spark into Slytherin. In that snake pit, Erwin's openness could get him eaten alive. Maybe it was time to chat with Dumbledore again.
Erwin, meanwhile, guided the young witches and wizards through their spells, his mind racing with thoughts of the telepathic spell. It wasn't something just anyone could pull off—the magic had to stem from the same source. Even twins had distinct magical signatures; the tiniest variance mattered. But for Erwin, that barrier didn't apply.
As the glossary noted, his Communication Rune was a System creation, packed with unique perks. Take the Dark Mark, for instance: it let Death Eaters dissolve into shadowy wisps for flight—a perk tailored for their leader. Voldemort could track his followers through it, and they could ping him by activating it, like a silent alert that someone was online. No voices, no faces—just a subtle summons.
Erwin's rune mirrored those functions but added a killer twist: he could infuse it with his own magic. The System had built this in, letting him hold the marked individuals' fates in his hands. Any disloyalty, and he'd trigger that magic to end them. It had worked wonders for Tom, whose arm bore Erwin's trace. That sliver of power had let him slip past Muggle restrictions into Diagon Alley, shielding him from the Muggle-Repelling Charm despite his Squib status. No wand, but immunity to everyday wards.
This very feature sparked Erwin's breakthrough with the telepathic spell. All the magic flowed from him—their "roots" were one and the same. No wonder it clicked. Best of all, it was impossible to replicate. Other magic faded, but the System locked Erwin's power tight within the rune. Even if Voldemort cracked the theory, he couldn't match it. The spell was bespoke for Erwin alone.
Theory checked out, but practice was another matter. Erwin needed a test run. He was cautious by nature—true knowledge came from testing, refining until it was foolproof. But who to use?
A Slytherin first-year? No dice. He'd just painted himself as the selfless prefect, even sharing the rune. Branding a kid with something that screamed "Dark Mark" would shatter that image. The little snakes weren't daft; they'd see right through it.
His sole lackey, Draco Malfoy? Risky. The boy was key to Erwin's pure-blood playbook. Lose him to a botched test, and the whole strategy crumbled. Draco had potential—he could die later, but not yet.
Underage wizards were off-limits anyway. A fatal mishap meant Azkaban, no appeals.
Stuck within Hogwarts' walls, options dwindled. Hagrid? Out of the question—the oaf was a vital supplier.
Then it hit him: nothing said test subjects had to be human.
Erwin's eyes lit up. The Forbidden Forest it was. Giant spiders, centaurs—perfect guinea pigs. No guilt if one keeled over; they held zero value to him anyway. With his talent for speaking to dragons extending to other magical creatures, he'd blend right in. Time for a midnight jaunt.
The rest of Charms passed uneventfully, followed by Herbology with Ravenclaw. Dull as dishwater—no Gryffindor antics to liven things up. Erwin found himself missing their chaos; classes felt flat without it.
That evening in the Great Hall, dinner wrapped up routinely. But as Erwin rose, Professor McGonagall beckoned him to her office.
"Sit down, Erwin."
He nodded, dropping into the chair without fanfare. "Professor, is this about the morning and evening study sessions?"
She inclined her head. "Precisely. The staff approves wholeheartedly. But there's a hitch—if we add self-study, we'll be stretched thin supervising."
Erwin suppressed a grin; he'd anticipated this. "I figured as much, Professor. Here's my take: you've all had a grueling day teaching, prepping lessons, and advancing your own research. Self-study lets students consolidate the day's material independently—reviewing notes, quizzing each other, or getting tips from older students and prefects. It's not about new lessons; no one expects you to cram more in. The goal is reinforcement, so knowledge sticks without overwhelming anyone."
McGonagall's eyes sharpened, then softened with approval. "Brilliant. You've got a knack for cutting through the fog. If that's the plan, we can launch next week—it's Thursday now, so we'll trial it Monday."
Erwin's smile widened. Phase one: secured. House points would climb, and the young witches and wizards? They'd trade sleep for success— one hour, two, or all of it. Their choice.