Erwin left the Room of Requirement and snapped his fingers, Apparating straight to the Forbidden Forest. He emerged just outside the humble dwelling where Rowena Ravenclaw had hidden her statue.
A quick scan of the surroundings revealed no sign of the unicorns. Erwin figured the entire herd had vanished into the depths of the woods. The Forbidden Forest was enormous; if they were truly hiding, tracking them would be no easy feat.
He shrugged it off and stepped inside the house, approaching the statue without delay. Erwin raised his hand and tapped it lightly.
"Greetings, Your Majesty Rowena. Are you in?"
Silence greeted him.
Undeterred, Erwin tapped again. "Your Majesty, I've brought your diadem!"
As his words faded, starlight began to shimmer from the statue. In an instant, he was pulled back into that ethereal space.
Gazing at the starry expanse for the second time, Erwin couldn't help but murmur, "It's stunning."
The starlight coalesced, and Rowena Ravenclaw's spectral form took shape.
"Where's the diadem?" she asked, her tone brisk.
Erwin flicked his wrist, and the diadem floated into view, suspended in mid-air.
Ravenclaw's eyes widened at the enchanted ring on his finger. "Yesterday, I took it for some enchanted pouch with an Undetectable Extension Charm. But this ring of yours—it's different. It can hold magical artifacts? What is it, exactly?"
"Just a simple trinket," Erwin replied with a grin. "Nothing fancy. Now, Your Majesty, take a look at the diadem and let's wrap up your tests. It's late—I need my beauty sleep for morning study tomorrow."
Ravenclaw rolled her eyes. In Erwin's presence, even one of the Four Founders lost all sense of awe. His no-nonsense demeanor nearly made her reconsider their bargain. But her reputation held firm.
She beckoned gently, and the diadem drifted into her grasp.
Then, her expression froze, turning to ice. "You dare defile my diadem? You're begging for oblivion!"
A burst of otherworldly power erupted from her, shoving Erwin's feet back several inches against his will. Horror etched his face.
Was this the might of one of the Four Founders? Even as a spirit, she was ferocious. It hardly seemed fair.
"Er, Your Majesty," Erwin stammered, "you can handle this, can't you?"
"It's merely a soul fragment," she snapped. "I never imagined anyone would resort to splintering their essence like this, you fool. Hold on—I'll sort this wretch out first."
Before Erwin could blink, Ravenclaw vanished in a swirl of starlight that poured into the diadem. A panicked voice echoed from within.
"Who are you?!"
Crackling noises followed, the diadem shuddering violently amid agonized male screams.
Erwin shivered. Brutal—utterly brutal.
He recalled how Voldemort had deceived Helena into revealing the diadem's location just before graduation, then claimed it immediately after. Tom must have been eighteen or nineteen then. Picturing a teenager getting thrashed like that sent a pang of sympathy through Erwin. If it were him, he'd be in tears.
Ten minutes later, the starlight receded. Ravenclaw reappeared, dragging a young man by the collar.
Erwin eyed the battered figure—young Voldemort—with mild disappointment. Legends painted teenage Tom as strikingly handsome, but the swollen bruises hid any trace of it. To compare their looks, he'd have to wait until next year and peek at the diary's version.
For now, Tom's face was a mottled purple mess, features barely discernible. It was a tad unkind to think so, but accurate.
Erwin offered a silent moment of pity for his hapless future professor, mentally updating his notes on Ravenclaw: fierce and unrelenting.
With his current understanding, soul-on-soul violence was beyond him, yet he'd just witnessed it.
Ravenclaw dumped the young Voldemort onto the ground. He lay silent, perhaps still reeling from the pummeling. His quiet was unnerving.
"What a moron," Ravenclaw sneered. "Shattering your soul inflicts permanent harm! Worse, each fragment births a new entity. Even if you revive through it, that splinter will seize control. Whoever misguided you deserves scorn—you're a fool!"
She shot Erwin a pointed glance.
"Don't pin this on me, Your Majesty," he protested hastily. "I'd never stoop to something so daft!"
She snorted and prodded Voldemort with her foot. "Who emboldened you? Defiling my diadem with this abomination—what gives you the right?"
Voldemort rasped, "I am Tom Riddle, heir to Salazar Slytherin!"
"Salazar himself wouldn't dare such insolence," Ravenclaw retorted. "You're unworthy."
Erwin watched, feeling a twinge of sorrow for poor Tom. Where was the justice in this? High-quality relics like the founders' artifacts made ideal Horcrux vessels, but stumbling into the founder's ghost? Unlucky.
A wave of guilt hit Erwin. This was partly his fault—if not for him, Voldemort's spirit wouldn't be enduring this nightmare.
"Er, Your Majesty," he ventured, "what will you do with this soul fragment?"
"Dispose of it," she said flatly.
With a casual flick of her finger, starlight gathered and surged toward Voldemort. His eyes bulged, mouth opening in a silent plea.
But the light consumed him. The Horcrux dissolved into wisps of black smoke, gone in an instant.
Erwin gulped. Terrifying—yet that spell was brilliant.
His eyes sparkled. "Your Majesty, could you teach me that one?"
Ravenclaw eyed him warily. "At your age, courting death already?"