"Of course, I'm not saying Gryffindor is bad—quite the opposite. Gryffindor has produced many great witches and wizards. But Slytherin boasts the highest number of powerhouses. Still, Harry, every house has its purpose. Hogwarts is the cradle of exceptional talent. Some may fade into obscurity, but I know you won't, Harry."
Harry Potter's eyes lit up. "You really think I can do it?"
Erwin shrugged. "Of course! What are you on about, Harry? You'll manage it easily. I believe in you. One day, you'll be a force in the wizarding world—it's in your blood. Don't let others sway your judgment now. What you need is the power to match your fame. Study hard."
Harry nodded firmly. "I understand, Mr. Erwin. Can I call you Prefect?"
"As you like, Harry," Erwin replied with a grin. "Though I'd rather you treat me like a mate."
Harry's smile widened. "Thank you, Prefect!"
Erwin waved him off. "Off you go and hit the books. If you've got questions or anything baffles you, come find me. And Harry—don't let house prejudices cloud your view. Look at everyone equally, and you'll see that Slytherins and Gryffindors alike can become true friends. Those alliances will ease your way and bring rewards you can't imagine. The road to strength demands allies."
Erwin shot a sidelong glance at Malfoy.
The boy was bent over his book, but Erwin could tell his ears were tuned to every word of the conversation.
He could only sigh inwardly—this was the best he could do for the young dragon.
Harry's face grew pensive.
An equal gaze?
He stole a look at Malfoy.
The Slytherin boy ducked his head back to his reading, but a faint smile tugged at his lips.
So earnest, so touching. Erwin could almost taste the drama—he needed a bucket of popcorn for this.
As Harry returned to his seat, Erwin's mouth curved into a satisfied smile.
The seed was planted.
Soon, a Slytherin savior would take root.
He wondered if Dumbledore would fume when he returned to find the winds shifting.
But when would the old headmaster be back?
Until then, Erwin had to nourish this budding alliance with some strong fertilizer.
Otherwise, Dumbledore's influence would outmatch his own.
Where to find such fertilizer?
His gaze drifted to Malfoy.
The perfect source—but how to apply it?
Erwin mulled it over as the morning study session wrapped up.
The bell tolled.
Yet the Slytherins stayed put.
Erwin gathered his books and rang the small bell on his desk.
"Right, pack up. Time for breakfast in the Great Hall!"
The first-years scrambled to their feet, clustering around him as they headed out.
At the entrance, Hermione and Harry peeled away reluctantly toward the Gryffindor table.
Truth be told, they'd have joined the Slytherins if they could.
The Great Hall buzzed with unusual quiet that morning—everyone looked half-asleep.
Professor McGonagall scowled, motioning Erwin over.
He set down his cutlery, dabbed his mouth, and stepped outside.
"Erwin," she said sternly, "the students seem off. So drowsy. Is something amiss?"
"It's just the first day, Professor. They're adjusting to the schedule. Weekend lie-ins don't help. If you like, cut breakfast to half an hour—it's generous as is. Then add twenty minutes of morning exercise: two laps around the Black Lake for fresh air and to build stamina. No offense, but wizards could use the toughening up."
She pondered it. "Wouldn't that drag on too long?"
"Not at all. Twenty minutes running, ten to catch their breath, then back for lessons. It'll sting at first, but they'll feel the benefits soon enough."
"Very well. I'll announce it at dinner tonight."
Erwin nodded.
Then chaos erupted inside the hall.
He and McGonagall shared a sharp look and hurried back in.
Erwin's face hardened.
His first assumption: another Gryffindor-Slytherin scuffle.
Why "another"?
But the scene stunned him.
The Gryffindor table was a wreck—smashed plates, spilled pumpkin juice.
Percy Weasley stood between two flushed boys, while the Weasley twins each restrained one.
Erwin peered closer.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, both seething.
Harry's robes dripped with juice; Ron's hair stuck up wildly.
They locked glares as the twins hauled them apart.
At the Slytherin table, the students watched with lazy smirks.
Malfoy alone eyed Harry with a flicker of concern.
The Slytherins weren't alone in their amusement—the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs gawked too.
One Hufflepuff even waved a bread roll, chuckling at the Gryffindor mess.
Erwin leaned in, curiosity piqued.
What sparked this row?
What had gone down?
For once, he regretted sleeping through it—McGonagall hadn't even nudged him awake for the spectacle.
A pity.
Professor McGonagall's face darkened like a storm cloud.
A subtle pressure radiated from her—murderous aura, sharp as a curse.
She was properly furious, whether from lack of sleep or the fray, Erwin couldn't say.
He'd never seen her this riled since arriving.
"Someone explain this at once! Percy Weasley—I want details!"
...
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