Back in his dormitory, Erwin first replied to Tom, updating him on Hagrid's situation. The owl carried the message away, and then Erwin pulled the mysterious pet egg from his enchanted ring. He also retrieved several porcelain vials—gifts from Hagrid, containing blood from various magical creatures. One small vial held unicorn blood, collected years ago when Hagrid found an injured unicorn in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid had handed it over without a second thought, his trust in Erwin absolute.
Erwin shook the vial, watching the silvery liquid swirl inside, clinging to the glass like fine vintage wine. In the books, unicorns were sacred beings, their blood a curse to those who spilled it unjustly. Only desperate souls like Voldemort dared touch it. But what if...?
A sly thought crossed his mind: Could a single drop, slipped unnoticed onto an enemy, trigger the curse? It might make a potent weapon—or poison. Erwin shook his head, pushing the idea aside. He was starting to sound like a proper villain.
Uncorking the vial, he watched starlight from the window dance toward the blood, as if drawn to it. He dripped a drop onto the egg. The silver liquid vanished on contact, absorbed instantly.
Checking the System: [Mysterious Egg: Requires the blood of a magical creature to hatch! Current progress: 2/100.]
One drop equaled two percent. Unicorn blood was rare, and this vial held only seven or eight drops. He added more, but after five—reaching ten percent—the sixth slid off harmlessly. Quick as a flash, Erwin caught it in an empty vial.
Stuck at ten percent? Perhaps each creature's blood had a cap. Testing with blood from other magical creatures confirmed it: Unicorns maxed at ten percent (two percent per drop), while lesser ones contributed one percent each, up to five percent total. Stronger creatures yielded more, but no more than five drops per type.
The egg now sat at twenty percent. With ordinary blood, he'd need sixteen more vials; with unicorn-grade, just eight. Easier than expected.
Erwin stowed the egg, buzzing with curiosity. System rewards are never disappointing. What creature would emerge? He lay in bed, mind racing, sleep elusive. Sighing, he opened the System panel.
[Name: Erwin Cavendish]
[Age: 11]
[Magic Level: Level 3]
[Identity: Current head of the Cavendish family, Hogwarts first-year, hidden Slytherin prefect]
[Talents:]
[Transfiguration: 5/10]
[Common Spellcasting: 6/10]
[Talent in the Dark Arts: 10/10]
[Potions: 6/10]
[Ancient Magic: ?/10 (Unlocked; requires special activation)]
[Pets: None]
[Special Skills: Magic Reserves (Gold), Magical Creature Affinity (Gold)]
[Spell Mastery: Summoning Charm (Level 3, Accio), Levitation Charm (Level 3, Wingardium Leviosa), Shield Charm (Level 3, Protego), Patronus Charm (Level 3, Expecto Patronum), Occlumency (Level 3), Piertotum Locomotor (Level 3), Apparition (Level 3), Killing Curse (Level 3), Imperius Curse (Level 4, Imperio), Cruciatus Curse (Level 4)]
[Magic Proficiency: 1800]
[Items: Grindelwald's Puppet x1, Ever-Changing Suit x1, Mysterious Egg x1 (20/100), Acacia Wood Wand, Enchanted Ring x1]
[Wizarding Acclaim: 2700]
His acclaim had piled up—Hogwarts was a goldmine, its young witches and wizards ripe for the picking. Grinning, Erwin launched the lottery interface. Time to test Lady Luck. He kicked off a ten-pull.
[Ten-pull complete. Rewards received!]
[...]
[Guaranteed Blue: 1 Talent Point]
Erwin's lip curled. Typical. Junk mostly, with one usable reward. At least the two bags of Pumpkin Pasties were a decent snack. He tore one open and crunched through it, the spicy sweetness hitting like a hex to the system itself. Tossing the wrapper, he dove into another ten-pull.
Cards whirled. Then—purple. Two of them.
Excitement surged. Gamblers always caught a break eventually.
Ten-pull complete. Rewards received!
[...]
Guaranteed Blue: 1 Talent Point
Purple: Sectumsempra
Guaranteed Purple (100 Pulls): Fully Automated Potion Production Line x1
A guaranteed hit. Nice. But a potion production line? Sounded Muggle-industrial.
Details: Fully Automated Potion Production Line: Magical device records up to five recipes. Brew once to imprint the method. Add ingredients after, and it produces autonomously. Free your hands for mass production. Efficiency: One bottle every three hours.
Erwin's eyes gleamed. This could revolutionize everything. Imagine an automated factory churning out potions. But the initial brew... Snape's name flashed in his mind. If the Potions Master demonstrated Felix Felicis, Erwin could harvest liquid luck every three hours. That elixir fetched a fortune.
Galleons danced in his vision. He slipped the device into his ring for safekeeping. Convincing Snape would take finesse, but it was worth it.
The other purple? Sectumsempra—Snape's own vicious cutting curse, jotted in his textbook for Erwin. It filled the gap in his arsenal; without Unforgivables, his attacks lacked punch. No more.
He claimed the reward and poured 1800 proficiency points into raising Sectumsempra to Level 3.
Finally, the two talent points: one to Transfiguration (now 6/10), the other to Potions (also 6/10).
Erwin leaned back, satisfied. With the egg hatching and this production line, his edge at Hogwarts sharpened. Tomorrow, he'd push forward—discreetly, of course. The castle's secrets were just warming up.