After leaving Professor McGonagall's office, Erwin headed to Snape's as usual. Helping the Potions Master these past few days had been invaluable. Many of the herbs were ones Erwin couldn't access yet, but under Snape's guidance, he handled them one by one without wasting a single leaf.
Erwin carefully sliced the root of the herb in his hand, then set it aside with a relieved breath. One slip, and the stuff would explode like a firecracker. He still couldn't fathom why magical potions relied on such vicious ingredients—biting vines, barking roots, volatile pods. Compared to those nightmares, ordinary poisons seemed tame.
Snape nodded approvingly. Erwin's technique had sharpened considerably, and he hadn't botched a single dangerous cut lately. Raw as it was, the boy's aptitude stunned Snape. Once he grasped the basics, mastery wouldn't be far off. Clearly, Erwin was a natural.
Erwin peeled off his dragon-skin gloves. "That's it for today, Professor Snape. I'm off unless there's more."
Snape's brow furrowed. "In a rush tonight?"
He eyed Erwin suspiciously. The boy usually lingered until midnight, soaking up every nuance of Snape's brewing—those subtle flourishes only a master could teach. Erwin never passed up the chance.
"Just knackered, that's all," Erwin replied quickly.
Snape's gaze lingered, sensing mischief brewing. "Fine. Rest up, then study the diary I lent you—focus on the Wit-Sharpening Potion. Tomorrow, you'll brew it yourself."
Erwin's eyes gleamed. Snape teaching him a real potion? Brilliant. Don't dismiss it as basic; if Snape trusted him with this now, Felix Felicis couldn't be far behind. He'd wring every secret from the man yet.
"Got it, Professor," Erwin said, nodding before slipping out.
Snape watched him go, then quickened his pace on the cauldron, mind elsewhere.
Back in the Slytherin common room, Erwin didn't bolt for the Forbidden Forest. It was barely past ten—too early for a proper midnight jaunt. The younger students buzzed with energy, chattering away, but that freedom wouldn't last. Classes resumed next week, bringing the grind of sleep-starved nights that plagued all Hogwarts students. Erwin needed his rest too. The Forest was no stroll in the park; even he couldn't charge in half-cocked. Dangers lurked everywhere—odd beasts, hidden perils. Full vigor was essential.
He entered the common room, where a cluster of first-years spotted him and shot to their feet. "Prefect!"
"Carry on," Erwin said, waving them down. "I'm turning in. Don't burn the midnight oil."
They nodded eagerly as he headed to his dormitory.
Late that night, Erwin stirred from sleep, yawning. The castle lay silent. He stretched, listening to the hush. Time to move.
As Prefect, his plate was full, the weight of responsibility heavy for a second-year. But duty—and curiosity—called.
At the window, Erwin shoved it open. With a flicker, he dissolved into a wisp of purple smoke, drifting toward the Forbidden Forest.
He skimmed past Hagrid's hut, lights still glowing. Erwin flew low, avoiding notice from the gamekeeper.
Unseen, in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore stood by the window, tracking the smoky trail through the dark. Moonlight glinted off his square spectacles.
"Just like his father—first midnight escapade straight to the Forbidden Forest," he murmured with a chuckle. "Bold little Slytherin."
A portrait on the wall stirred. "You saw him head there and did nothing? The Forest isn't a playground for first-years!"
Dumbledore plucked a sweet from a dish, savoring it with narrowed eyes. "What delightful treats these house-elves whip up—exotic wizarding flavors I'd never tried. Feels like I've been missing out. No need to fret over Erwin's safety; someone always stirs if trouble brews."
He eyed a plume of smoke rising from the castle, shook his head, and yawned. With a snap of his fingers, he conjured cozy pajamas—comically starry. "Getting on in years. Bedtime. Hope the lad keeps it quiet; this old wizard needs his rest undisturbed."
...
The purple mist settled in the Forbidden Forest, coalescing into Erwin. He stroked his chin. "Now, where are those giant spiders hiding?"
The Forest sprawled endlessly. Tracking them would be a nightmare without a map. From what he recalled, they lurked deep inside—not skulking on the edges, surely. But "deep" covered miles of tangled wilds.
As Erwin pondered his next move, rustling stirred the underbrush. He turned, curious.
A vibrant green creature tumbled out, hopping erratically to his feet and circling them with playful bounces.
Erwin's face lit up. He crouched and extended a hand. The thing leaped into his palm.
"A Bowtruckle? What brings you out here, little one?"
He tapped its leafy head gently. The Bowtruckle nuzzled his finger, its twiggy face scrunching in delight.
...
Another 5 chapters down! We are moving at lightning speed, but we aren't at the top yet.
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—MrGrim