Snape paused, his dark eyes flickering. "I mentioned your godfather earlier, but there were other reasons for that. Don't take it too seriously."
Erwin chuckled. "So, Professor, you don't want to be my godfather?"
Snape fell silent, his expression unreadable.
Erwin pressed on gently. "If you don't mind, I'd really like to call you that. You know I have no other family."
A flicker of sorrow crossed Snape's face at the words. "As your godfather, then, I must warn you: whatever your plans, the Weasleys are Dumbledore's staunchest allies. You know what I mean."
With that, he turned and strode away, but as he did, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Erwin smiled too. He understood perfectly. Snape had accepted the role—and seen through Erwin's not-so-innocent handling of Ron. Anyone close to him would. But Dumbledore's loyalists or not, Erwin wasn't aiming to sway the Weasleys overnight. He just needed to plant a seed of guilt in Arthur and Molly's hearts. Good people like them were swayed by emotions—guilt, gratitude, remorse. It wouldn't make them his henchmen; no one could match that with Dumbledore around. But it might nudge them to act in his favor when the time came.
As for Ron, he was a minor nuisance, like a lone ant bothering an elephant. Useful only to deepen that guilt and perfect the scheme. Nothing more.
Erwin continued down the corridor toward the Slytherin dorms, eager for some rest before the night's drama unfolded. He doubted Ron would deviate from the script; every word Erwin spoke was deliberate.
Rounding the corner, he spotted Hagrid looming in the shadows, nearly as tall as the nearest stone pillar. Half-giant or not, the man was imposing.
"Hagrid, what brings you here?" Erwin asked.
Hagrid startled, turning with a sheepish grin. "Erwin! You alright? Heard about the row in the Great Hall—got me worried, so I came to check on you."
Erwin smiled warmly. "I'm fine, Hagrid. Really."
Hagrid nodded, his bushy beard twitching. "I know the Weasleys well—met most of their kids. Polite lot, they are, even being one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. None of that spoiled pure-blood nonsense. Courteous, through and through. Never thought their youngest would sling mud like that at you."
"It's not a big deal," Erwin replied. "I met Arthur; he's a decent bloke. Water under the bridge."
"Good to hear. Just had to see for myself—you've got plenty of folks looking out for you, but I couldn't shake the worry." Hagrid scratched his head. "You're welcome at my hut anytime, you know. I'm grateful for you, Erwin. Without your help selling those materials, I'd be stuck. Even Fang's been feasting on meat every day!"
Erwin laughed. "I know—seen him loads. Bit of a scaredy-cat, isn't he?"
Hagrid chuckled. "Aye, timid as a mouse."
"But you didn't just come for a chat," Erwin said, reading the hesitation. "What's on your mind?"
Hagrid shifted awkwardly. "Can't fool you, can I? It's Harry. He stopped by today, told me about the Great Hall business. Poor lad's gutted—lost a mate, even if Ron's no great loss. Harry's down, and he spoke highly of you. Reckon you should pop over and cheer him up."
Erwin nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Harry's a friend—I'd have gone anyway."
Hagrid's face lit up. "Knew you'd say that. Never met a finer young wizard than you!"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Hagrid." Erwin grinned. "How's that dragon egg coming along?"
Hagrid's eyes sparkled. He glanced around to ensure they were alone. "Following your advice to the letter—should hatch any day now. Shell's getting warmer, and I swear I hear claws scratching inside!"
Erwin's interest piqued, the corridor's chill forgotten as Hagrid's enthusiasm pulled him into the secret thrill of the impending hatch.