"Ron," Erwin said earnestly, "I really want to be your friend. I don't care if you look down on my bloodline—I've never meant to be anyone's enemy."
These were the first words Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and the Weasleys overheard as they emerged from the office. Snape's hand tightened around his wand, his face a mask of fury. McGonagall swiftly positioned herself between him and Ron.
"Snape, calm yourself," she urged. "Leave this to me."
Erwin caught at Snape's sleeve, trying to steady him. Snape's voice was ice-cold. "The second time. This is the second time, Arthur Weasley. Your precious son—how dare he speak to Erwin like that? If you don't explain yourself today, believe me, even Dumbledore won't protect him. Have you forgotten what I've done for you?"
Snape loathed dredging up his past as a Death Eater, but invoking it now meant he was deadly serious—ready to strike without hesitation. Erwin knew it. So did McGonagall. The Weasleys understood all too well.
Arthur's eyes bulged, red-rimmed with rage, like a cornered lion. He stormed toward Ron and slapped him hard across the face. Ron crumpled to the floor.
"Ron! How could you stoop this low again?" Arthur bellowed. "Uttering such filth—have you no shame?"
Blood seeped from Ron's split lip. Clutching his cheek, he sobbed, "Why is everyone blaming me? He started it! Why aren't you calling him out?"
Molly's voice trembled with disappointment. "I saw no provocation from Erwin. I only heard him extend an olive branch—wanting to be friends, despite everything. And you repay him with spite and malice. Ron Weasley, I'm ashamed of you. You've tarnished the family name."
Ron fell silent, words failing him. Erwin sensed the moment teetering; a bit more provocation could tip it perfectly. He ducked behind Snape, a sly smile flickering before he shot Ron a challenging glance.
Ron's eyes flashed. He yanked out his wand. "I'll kill you!"
But against the Order of the Phoenix's veterans, Ron stood no chance. The instant his wand cleared his robes, Snape moved like lightning. "Expelliarmus!" The Disarming Charm wrenched the wand free, followed by a swift "Stupefy!" Ron hurtled backward, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud. He slumped unconscious, a sharp crack echoing as he hit the stone floor—likely a broken bone.
Snape offered no quarter. Erwin nodded inwardly, pleased. He'd baited the trap flawlessly; Ron's outburst sealed his role as the villain moving forward. The worse Ron acted, the deeper the Weasleys' guilt would run. If Ron had the skill, Erwin might've even let him land a hit for dramatic effect—but reality rarely matched the script. Ron simply wasn't up to the task.
Erwin's expression shifted to feigned sorrow. "I don't understand why Ron despises me so much. I actually like him, disagreements aside. I wanted to be friends—I admire Percy, and George and Fred too. I thought we could get along."
Snape's reply was curt. "He doesn't deserve it."
McGonagall sighed, her eyes softening with pity as she looked at Erwin. Arthur and Molly flushed crimson—whether from fury or embarrassment, it was impossible to say.
"Let's get him to the Hospital Wing," McGonagall suggested briskly. "We'll sort the rest later."
Molly scooped up Ron's limp form. "Erwin, I'm so sorry. I apologize for him."
Erwin waved it off quickly. "No need, Mrs. Weasley. It's not your fault—or anyone's, really. Just a misunderstanding between Ron and me. I'm sure we can clear it up."
Molly glanced from Erwin's earnest face to her unconscious son, the contrast stark. She hurried away with Ron, leaving Arthur behind. The issue lingered unresolved.
"Back to the office," McGonagall said firmly. "We need to talk this out properly."
Once inside, an awkward silence settled. McGonagall hesitated, unsure how to proceed. Ron's idiocy had pushed her to the brink of her patience. Before learning Erwin's heritage, he'd been her star pupil—a protégé of sorts. Knowing his true background only deepened her protectiveness. To hear him insulted now...
She might have lost her temper entirely if not for their shared ties to the Order. Truth be told, the entire group owed the Selwyn family a debt. Without the pursuit of Erwin's parents, Lily Potter might still be alive.
Snape broke the quiet, his tone venomous. "I'm not here to chat, Arthur. You owe me an explanation."
Arthur bristled. "Ron messed up—I'll make it right with Erwin. What does this have to do with you?"
Snape sneered. "Erwin's my godson. Everything, that's what."
Erwin blinked, stunned. When had that happened? He hadn't heard a whisper of it. A godson already—now Snape? It wasn't a bad twist, though. Inheriting from Snape could prove a windfall.
"A godson?" Arthur echoed, his face paling alongside McGonagall's.
Snape pressed on. "Do we need your permission for family matters?"
Erwin rubbed his head, puzzled. Amelia—wait, Pearson, his father? The Weasleys knew him? Piecing it together, Erwin ran the timelines in his mind. If his father had attended Hogwarts, he'd be Snape's year—Arthur perhaps ten years ahead.
It clicked suddenly. Of course—his father had old school ties. Arthur Weasley was one of them. Erwin had overlooked that connection entirely.