Erwin quickly interjected, "You can't say things like that! People who don't know better might think I'm some kind of villain!"
Charlotte rolled her eyes behind his back. So this guy still sees himself as one of the good ones?
After Erwin finished packing and smoothed his hair, he checked himself in the mirror and grinned. Still as handsome as ever. As expected of Erwin Cavendish.
"Let's go! We can't miss the first Quidditch match," he said.
Charlotte nodded and followed him down to the common room.
A group of young witches and wizards had already gathered there. Spotting Erwin on the stairs, they stood up eagerly.
"Good morning, Prefect!"
Erwin nodded. "Alright, then. Let's go cheer for the heroes bringing glory to Slytherin!"
The group buzzed with excitement. Erwin could understand it—these students had precious little entertainment beyond Quidditch matches. He suddenly wondered if enchanted wireless sets or something similar might catch on in the wizarding world. Their leisure options were woefully limited.
Erwin led the way out of the Slytherin common room, the others falling in behind him in two neat rows without prompting. He had no idea why, but Slytherin was starting to feel more like a disciplined squad than a house of schemers. Could he really turn it into a military outfit? If so, maybe he'd suggest they all shave their heads—only the top prefects keeping their hair. He chuckled inwardly. Wrong train of thought.
Meanwhile, on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, the stands were filling up. Even the professors had arrived for the school's first match of the year. Dumbledore himself was there, ostensibly just to watch Harry Potter's debut, though his eyes twinkled with deeper interest.
The young witches and wizards chattered animatedly.
"Why haven't any Slytherins shown up?" one wondered.
"Yeah, this is their match! Where are they?"
"Only a handful from the older years, it looks like."
In the Ravenclaw stands, Hermione craned her neck, scanning the crowd. Cho Chang noticed and grinned. "Come on, Hermione, don't worry. Erwin will definitely come—the Slytherins said their prefect promised to watch today!"
Hermione's cheeks flushed. "I wasn't waiting for him! I was just... admiring the view. Yeah, the view."
Cho glanced at the bare pitch and stands, shaking her head but saying nothing. Every girl had her secrets—even she did.
Madam Hooch strode to the center of the field and waved both teams forward. Gryffindor and Slytherin had a storied rivalry, so tensions ran high from the start. Harry Potter trailed his teammates, glancing nervously at the stands until he spotted Dumbledore's encouraging smile. That eased his nerves a bit.
If Erwin had been there, Harry might have felt even more reassured—though he'd never admit it. Bonds like that ran deep, a quiet nod from a guardian figure. He pushed thoughts of his own so-called protectors aside. Best not dwell on that fool.
Madam Hooch positioned herself between the teams, perhaps to prevent an early brawl. She began reciting the rules as usual. But just as she raised the whistle, Marcus Flint spoke up. "Wait a minute, Madam Hooch! Can we hold off a bit?"
She frowned. "Why?"
"Our prefect promised to watch the match today," Marcus replied. "We want to wait for him."
Madam Hooch checked her watch and scowled. Time was short. But Marcus stood firm, his expression unyielding without Charlotte's subtle influence.
She'd paid him a visit to the hospital wing earlier—not for healing, but to deliver a message. First, congratulations on becoming the most pitiable soul under Erwin's command. Second, Erwin could snap his leg with a mere surge of magic; crossing him would end badly.
Slytherins respected ambition, but strength ruled all. Erwin's power had humbled the brash Marcus, and Charlotte's warning painted him as merciful. Marcus had to admit, in Erwin's shoes, he'd have unleashed something far worse—like a Sectumsempra.
Little did he know, without Snape's prior intervention, Erwin might have done just that.
Erwin knew of Charlotte's meddling, though not her motives. He figured if she could be useful, why question it? Tools were tools.
Madam Hooch hesitated, glancing at the stands. Dumbledore gave a slight nod, and she relented. "Fine. Five minutes."
Marcus nodded gratefully. The season's first Quidditch match ground to an unexpected halt, both teams gripping their brooms in the field center, waiting in silence.
Word spread through the stands, leaving the young witches and wizards exchanging baffled looks. No one dared complain.
Dumbledore watched the reactions closely, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Erwin's sway in Slytherin was expected, but influencing the whole school? Simple, really. He'd arrived without fanfare, but the details had woven their magic.
Ravenclaws adored knowledge, so a prodigy like Erwin had their respect. In Hufflepuff, his aid during Charms class was legendary now, especially with Professor Sprout's fondness for how he'd handled her Willow. Erwin's standing there was sky-high.
As for the Gryffindors—well, the lion cubs were too intimidated to protest, especially after witnessing his takedown of Marcus. They embodied courage, but not recklessness. Ron aside, they knew when to pick their battles; some foes were simply unbeatable.