[System activated upon detecting the host's first contact with the magical world!]
[Someone has detected spying on your memories! System protection mode is automatically activated. Your memories as a transmigrator will be directly hidden. The memories presented will only be those from when you arrived in this world! This protection mode is only applicable during the beginner phase. Please get out of this trouble as soon as possible. Protection lasts for three days!]
[Protection mode is now activated!]
Erwin suppressed his mounting excitement, eyeing the wizard before him with wary caution. Sure enough, this sly old fox had tried Legilimency on him. Erwin had to admit, he was impressed. The man treated mind-reading like second nature—eyes blinking, and bam, thoughts snatched away. Utterly shameless.
Dumbledore withdrew from the probe, a flicker of surprise crossing his eyes. Erwin's life was... colorful, to say the least. Multifaceted, even. But nothing seemed amiss. The boy's surprise at his arrival was natural enough—perhaps astonishment at the beard, whiter than any Erwin had seen. Dumbledore found no better explanation.
"My boy," he said warmly, "you should have received your Hogwarts acceptance letter by now. I've come to take you to school."
Erwin feigned bewilderment. "Hogwarts? What's that? Some kind of notice?"
Dumbledore blinked, caught off guard. "You haven't received it? It's a pale yellow envelope, addressed in green ink—no stamp. Just your name and address. The back bears the school crest: a lion, snake, badger, and eagle forming an 'H'. Surely you got it?"
Erwin shook his head. He truly hadn't. If he had, he'd have been over the moon.
Dumbledore frowned. "That's odd. An owl should have delivered it."
Just then, Rivers raised his hand—a habit Erwin had drilled into him to avoid blurting out interruptions. Rivers ignored it most days, but he toed the line around his young master. Erwin could make good on threats to thrash him otherwise.
Seeing Rivers about to speak, Erwin felt a twinge of unease. He waved him on. "Out with it."
Rivers cleared his throat. "Er, young master, I think I know where that old man's letter ended up."
"Then fetch it," Erwin snapped.
Rivers scratched his head. "Can't do that, sir."
Erwin's brow furrowed. "Why not?"
Rivers shuffled back a step, mumbling, "The owl showed up this morning, hooting like mad. Didn't want it waking you, so I caught it. You always say letters from strangers are trouble—burn 'em or bin 'em. Real invites come in person. I can't read, as you know. And my stomach was acting up, no paper handy, so I... well..."
He trailed off, eyes fixed on the floor. Erwin's face had darkened like a storm cloud.
"Rivers," Erwin said icily, "come here. I've got something to show you."
Rivers paled. "Do I have to, young master?"
"Not your call."
Before Erwin could lay into him, Dumbledore intervened. "It's fine, Mr. Cavendish. Just a letter—nothing major. But that owl is Hogwarts property. You'll need to release it."
Erwin shot Rivers a cold look. "You heard the Headmaster. Move."
Rivers grimaced. "Young master, even the bird won't square us on that debt. Remember lunch?"
Erwin paused, recalling the unusually flavorful chicken soup. Firm meat, richer broth than usual. He'd even requested seconds for dinner.
He coughed. "Ah, respected Headmaster, you heard all that. How about I cover the cost?"
Dumbledore went silent, at a loss. In all his years at Hogwarts—from student to professor to Headmaster—he'd never heard the like. A first-year Muggle-born turning a school owl into stew!
He sighed. What was done was done. No sense making the boy regurgitate it—and even then, it wouldn't be the same owl.
Dumbledore waved it off. "Never mind. Water under the bridge."
Erwin exhaled in relief. His family had deep pockets, but he pinched galleons where he could. Dodging that bullet was a win.
"Thank you, Headmaster. Though these owls could use some upgrades—caught without a fight, no stealth at all."
Dumbledore's mouth twitched. Blaming the owls for stupidity now? Cheeky.
A stray thought crossed his mind: Hogwarts might regret admitting this one. But Dumbledore trusted facts over hunches. Otherwise, Erwin could be the first expulsion before term even began.
"I'll take your suggestion under advisement, Mr. Cavendish," he said evenly. "Since you missed the letter, you won't know this yet. First-years need supplies—like stationery for Muggles. Oh, Muggles are non-magical folk. If you're free, we can shop now."
Erwin nodded. "Sounds good. I'm free. Rivers, fetch some money. Time to shop."
Dumbledore added, "One thing: wizarding currency isn't pounds. You can exchange for Galleons, but it's a poor rate."
Erwin played ignorant, though he knew the basics. Better let Dumbledore spell it out.
"Wizard money?" he asked. "What's that?"
With a flick of his wrist, Dumbledore produced a gleaming gold coin. "This—a Galleon."
Erwin nodded sagely. "Got it. Gold it is. Rivers, prepare the funds."