Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "My boy, your role as the savior isn't just what others claim—it's what you've truly accomplished. You defeated Voldemort and brought light back to the wizarding world. To so many, you're a hero."
Harry Potter shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Really? But why does it feel like I can't do anything right? There's nothing Erwin can't handle! Professor, I'm just... frustrated."
Dumbledore nodded sympathetically. "If I were your age, I'd probably feel the same facing someone like Erwin. But Harry, remember this: no one starts out great, not even him."
Harry leaned forward eagerly. "Professor, how can I become as knowledgeable and capable as Erwin?"
Dumbledore's lips curved into a gentle smile. There it is, he thought. The hook's set. He had a soft spot for children this age—their wide-eyed curiosity was endlessly rewarding. He and Erwin shared that fondness, though their approaches differed sharply. Right now, for instance, Dumbledore found Erwin's influence downright irksome.
"Want to be like Erwin?" Dumbledore continued. "It takes hard work and guidance from others. When he's stumped, he turns to friends for group study or asks professors for advice. So if you aim higher, push yourself even further. But effort alone isn't enough—you need to connect with people, ideally a study partner your own age. That's the quickest path to real progress."
Harry fell silent, pondering the words.
Dumbledore gauged the moment was ripe. "Harry, are you familiar with self-study sessions?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah! Erwin suggested them, and at first, the older students weren't thrilled. But lately, Ravenclaw and Slytherin can't wait for them."
Dumbledore chuckled. "And do you know why?"
Harry shook his head.
"Because they free up time for focused learning—and interaction. Peers bounce ideas off each other, and their marks soar as a result."
Harry's face brightened. "Then I could study with Ron!"
Dumbledore shook his head gently. "That's an option, but I recommend joining Erwin in the Slytherin study room instead. As we both know, he's the top of your year, and he's brilliant at tutoring classmates. I hear Draco Malfoy even mastered basic Transfiguration under his guidance."
Harry's mind flashed to the Transfiguration classroom—Malfoy's sneering smirk, his air of superiority. His fist clenched involuntarily. "But would Erwin even let me? And Slytherin and Gryffindor... we don't exactly mix."
He trailed off, but Dumbledore understood. The old wizard paused, then said, "I'll speak to Erwin on your behalf. If it helps your education, I doubt he'll turn you away."
Harry's eyes widened. "Really, Professor?"
Dumbledore laughed softly. "Don't worry—Erwin and I get on well. You might not know this, but I escorted him to Diagon Alley himself on his first trip."
"Thank you, Professor!" Harry beamed.
"But Harry," Dumbledore added firmly, "I'll make the approach, but you must commit. Strive to improve—you could be Gryffindor's greatest pride yet."
Something ignited in Harry's chest—a fierce, burning resolve. If Erwin had been there, he'd have whipped out his notebook to jot it all down. Brilliant, Erwin might think. A masterclass in motivation.
Dumbledore was a true artist at this. He'd first drawn Harry into comparing himself to Erwin, stirring envy for the Slytherin's prowess. Then he'd emphasized diligence, fueling Harry's drive. Next, the suggestion to apprentice under Erwin earned instant gratitude. And knowing Harry's impressionable nature—his tendency to waver under influence like Ron's—this sealed off any easy retreat. Finally, that rousing pep talk to fan the flames.
Step by step, pure brilliance. Erwin would have to admire the technique, setting aside any rivalry.
Buoyed by determination, Harry left the office, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
From his portrait on the wall, Phineas Nigellus Black snorted. "Dumbledore! Same tired tricks after all these years to reel in the little wizards."
Dumbledore settled back in his chair. "I won't deny it. Though compared to Erwin, I feel a touch outmatched. You ought to visit the Slytherin common room sometime—see what they've become. I suspect you'd be impressed."
Phineas sneered. "That boy you picked? Frankly, he's no match for Erwin. A pale shadow! I can't fathom what you saw in him."
Dumbledore said nothing. What did he value in Harry? The Horcrux, plain and simple. Not the boy's hesitancy or his spotty study habits—those were mere annoyances.
Phineas, tiring of the silence, vanished from the frame with a huff.
Moments later, he reappeared in the portrait above the Slytherin common room fireplace. The original occupant cowered in the corner, quaking.
Phineas gave a cold sniff. "I asked nicely, but you had to mouth off. A good thrashing's the only way you'll remember why I was Headmaster here!"
The portrait's former resident stifled a whimper, saying nothing.
Phineas surveyed the room. Groups of young witches and wizards huddled over books and parchment, debating theories in low voices. He blinked in surprise. Without the dim, greenish glow of the lake-filtered light, he might have mistaken it for Ravenclaw's tower. The air hummed with focus—eerie, vibrant, nothing like the cutthroat scheming of his school days.
"That Malfoy boy over there!"
Draco's platinum-blond hair gleamed like a beacon. Phineas spotted him instantly.
Draco whipped around, startled. "Who are you?"
"You clueless whelp—don't you recognize me? Now, where's Erwin?"