Charlotte and Sunny Finch exchanged glances. As the tension peaked, they both smiled.
"Well then, Charlotte, see you in nine days!"
"You'd better prepare thoroughly; I don't want to win too easily!" Charlotte replied.
Sunny Finch grinned. "You're definitely superior at verbal sparring than I am!"
They turned in unison. The Hogwarts and Eastern contestants mirrored the motion, briefly locking eyes. Without another word, everyone dispersed, leaving a baffled audience behind.
"What? No confrontation?"
"I waited all this time for that?"
Draco and Hermione stood among the spectators. Draco couldn't help but grumble, "Why didn't they fight? I was curious about Harry's current capabilities!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. Honestly, I'm surrounded by lovesick fools who only care about Harry Potter.
"Draco, do you think the battle between Hogwarts and the Eastern delegation is a trivial matter?" Hermione said sharply. "Neither side is guaranteed victory. Both understand each other's capabilities intimately. They know that if they clash prematurely, they'll be plagued by uncertainty about the other's preparation."
She took a breath, slipping into lecture mode. "Therefore, if they are to engage in combat, they must choose a moment when they are fully prepared. There is still time before the second event begins. They will use every second to ensure their preparations are flawless. At the very least, once the battle commences, regardless of the outcome, they cannot afford to lose simply because they were inadequately prepared!"
Draco nodded slowly. "I see. Hermione, you really understand strategy!"
Damn it, he really is an idiot, Hermione thought. This was precisely the intellectual superiority she had sensed in Erwin when he first arrived at Hogwarts—a quiet disdain hidden behind polite masks. That was exactly how she viewed Draco now. Pure, unadulterated foolishness.
Just then, someone remembered the unfortunate Durmstrang students.
"So, what do we do with them? Should we transport them to the infirmary? I don't think they can walk independently."
Before the crowd could organize a solution, several figures in black robes appeared, a purple lotus badge gleaming on their chests.
"It's the Cavendish family!"
"Erwin really did anticipate everything."
The operatives wasted no time, efficiently gathering the injured and marching them toward the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey stared in horror as the procession arrived.
"Merlin's beard," she gasped. "How did they sustain such severe injuries?"
A Cavendish operative stepped forward. "Master Erwin sends his apologies for the inconvenience, Madam. We'll require your assistance. Please ensure they remain here until the second trial concludes. We wouldn't want them departing prematurely."
Madam Pomfrey sighed, examining the battered students. "I doubt they'll be leaving before then. They're in no condition to move. These children... they were absolutely ruthless."
"We appreciate your discretion," the operative said. In a flash, the Cavendish delegation vanished.
"Discourteous bunch," Pomfrey muttered. "Not nearly as polite as Erwin himself."
Back in the Slytherin quarters, Erwin observed the scene through his connection to the family network. He was genuinely interested in the upcoming confrontation between the Eastern delegation and Hogwarts. Even he couldn't predict the victor with certainty. Statistically, Hogwarts was at a disadvantage; after all, they had Harry Potter. While Charlotte and the others had trained the boy relentlessly, his progress was limited by the abbreviated timeframe. The outcome was truly unpredictable.
Erwin looked forward to it. But before that, he had preparations to complete.
He needed to prepare the equipment for the second trial.
Apparition.
Erwin materialized in Dumbledore's office.
The Headmaster startled. "Erwin! Even if you have unrestricted access here, a little warning wouldn't be amiss! I'm an elderly man; my heart can't handle these shocks."
Erwin shrugged. "I'll try to remember that next time."
Dumbledore sighed, recognizing the complete lack of sincerity in the boy's tone. "Very well. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"The second trial is approaching," Erwin stated. "I require the professors' assistance."
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "I see. However, the staff have their class schedules. How do you propose we manage this?"
"Shift work," Erwin replied. "It's a specialized task, not something just anyone can handle. Aside from you and myself, we'll need Headmaster Karkaroff, Headmistress Maxime of Beauxbatons, Lord Grindelwald, and the Heads of House."
"I've already spoken to them," Dumbledore nodded. "I'll summon them immediately. You can explain the details yourself."
Erwin waited. Within minutes, the office was crowded with the most powerful wizards in Europe. They understood they were needed to construct equipment for the second trial, but the specifics remained a mystery.
Grindelwald leaned forward. "Alright, Erwin. We're all assembled. Present your plan."
Erwin addressed the room. "Professors, you'll be occupied. Starting today, after your classes conclude, you will report to me for production work."
Professor McGonagall adjusted her robes. "That doesn't sound too demanding. We can manage late evenings; it's hardly consequential."
Erwin coughed lightly. "Professor, I believe you're underestimating the scale. Perhaps you should observe me create a single unit first before committing to that schedule."
McGonagall eyed him suspiciously.
Erwin didn't waste time with explanations. He drew his wand and began working. An hour later, he placed a finished, intricate object on the desk.
The professors stared. They swallowed hard, almost in unison.
"Erwin," Dumbledore asked, his voice strained. "Exactly how many of these are you planning to manufacture?"
"A thousand," Erwin said casually. "Which means, Professors... sleep will be a luxury you cannot afford."