Erwin shook his head. "No, I'm not nervous. Just getting into the right mindset. I never underestimate an opponent."
Ravenclaw nodded approvingly. "Good habit. How about I show you a trick?"
Erwin blinked in surprise. "You want to teach me something?"
"It's not teaching—more like pointing out what you've missed," Ravenclaw replied. "Remember that book you read? There's a technique in it. If you don't use it, you're wasting your talent."
Before Erwin could respond, Ravenclaw vanished in a swirl of shadow, gone without a trace.
Erwin frowned, pondering. What had he overlooked? He racked his brain as he settled into bed, sifting through the tangled knowledge he'd absorbed lately. Time slipped by unnoticed, and soon a faint smile tugged at his lips. He'd grasped it. With that, he drifted off to sleep.
Ravenclaw reappeared moments later, gazing at the sleeping figure. A grin spread across his face. "Incredible talent. You picked it up that fast? Most wizards need battles to learn it. He was right about you—you're something special. Can't wait to see what you become."
...
Morning light filtered into Erwin's dormitory. He woke with a stretch, then crossed to the window, watching the sun crest the horizon. A quiet smile formed. Today marked the start: Slytherin's true heir would rise, and this duel was just the first step in reshaping the wizarding world. The pure-blood families' reaction would dictate his next move.
After a quick wash, Erwin opened his door. The corridor buzzed with Slytherin prefects from second through sixth year, waiting expectantly. Charlotte stood at the forefront.
She dipped her head as he emerged. "Prefect Erwin. I've sent the others to the Great Hall ahead. The duel begins at ten—no sense in them idling here. They'll head to the arena from breakfast."
Erwin met her gaze and nodded. "Smart thinking. Let's move."
A shiver ran through Charlotte under his steady look, though she couldn't say why. He offered no further comment, simply striding forward. She lingered at the rear, brow creased in thought. Had he seen through her scheme? No, impossible. He was sharp and sly for his age, but youth had its limits. She'd studied him thoroughly; his vulnerabilities were clear.
Still, that glance... Was it a warning, or just his usual poise?
Ahead, Erwin caught her pensive stare from the corner of his eye. Trouble, that one. She thought her age an advantage, a blind spot for peers. But Erwin had the edge of two lifetimes—plus a lifetime's worth of cunning from films and stories he'd absorbed. Her ploy was transparent, especially to him. Naive.
Once today's business wrapped, he'd handle her. Find out her true motives. Peace of mind demanded it.
They entered the Great Hall, and the chatter died instantly. Every young witch and wizard turned to stare at Erwin.
At the Slytherin table, Grodia flashed a welcoming smile. Erwin approached. "Morning, senior."
"Morning, Erwin. You look well-rested."
"Slept like a rock," Erwin replied. "And you?"
Grodia shook his head with a wry grin. "Tossed and turned. Couldn't stop thinking about you making your mark on the wizarding world today."
Erwin brushed it off politely—Grodia had that effortless charm. Born to Slytherin and one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, yet free of the haughty air that plagued so many pure-bloods. It made him a standout at Hogwarts, admired across houses and even by professors. Before Erwin's arrival, he'd been Slytherin's shining star.
"Too modest, senior," Erwin said. "I might not measure up. I just crash wherever my head lands."
Grodia's smile faded into seriousness. "No, Erwin. I know I'm outmatched. But promise me—go all out. I need to see the gap between us."
Erwin dropped the pleasantries, matching his intensity. "I will. And don't hold back either. This is your last Hogwarts duel—and mine as a prefect."
Grodia nodded firmly. "Agreed. For your sake, I'll give everything."
They stood side by side at the table, a subtle hum of magic crackling in the air around them. On the staff dais, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout watched without intervening.
Flitwick whistled softly. "Remarkable youngsters!"
Sprout agreed. "Erwin's magic reserves are staggering. And that Selwyn boy isn't ordinary either. He can't touch Erwin's power, but he's leagues ahead of his peers. Rumors say the Selwyns have ways to trigger a second magical surge in their young—looks like it's true."
McGonagall shot her a sharp look. "Rumors are just that. Let's not speculate. I'm eager for their match today."
The hall's murmurs resumed, but the air thrummed with anticipation. Erwin loaded his plate, mind racing ahead to the arena. Grodia chatted lightly with nearby prefects, his easy demeanor masking the storm brewing. Charlotte, seated a few spots away, stole glances, her uncertainty gnawing deeper.
By ten, the Great Hall emptied toward the dueling grounds—a sunlit courtyard ringed by ancient stone walls, warded against stray spells. Spectators from all houses packed the stands, professors lining the edges. The Headmaster's box overlooked it all, Dumbledore's eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
Madam Hooch stepped forward as referee, her whistle sharp. "Standard duels: no Unforgivables, no lethal intent. First to yield or be incapacitated loses. Prefects, to your marks!"
Erwin and Grodia faced off across the chalked circle, wands drawn. The crowd hushed.
Grodia moved first, a flick of his wrist sending a barrage of Stunners hurtling forward. Erwin sidestepped smoothly, countering with a swift Expelliarmus. Grodia blocked with a Shield Charm, the spells clashing in a burst of light.
"Not bad," Grodia called, circling. "But try this!"
He unleashed a non-verbal Levicorpus, yanking Erwin upward by the ankle. Erwin twisted mid-air, whispering Wingardium Leviosa on himself to stabilize, then retaliated with a Bombarda. The ground erupted near Grodia's feet, forcing him to Apparate aside.
The duel escalated—Protego shields shattering under repeated assaults, Disarming Charms glancing off precise counters. Erwin's movements were fluid, economical, drawing on that forgotten technique Grodia had hinted at: a subtle weave of Ancient Magic into his spells, amplifying their potency without extra effort.
Grodia pressed harder, his face set in grim determination. A second magical surge rippled through him, his spells gaining raw force. "Sectumsempra!" he snarled, the dark slash slicing toward Erwin.
Erwin's eyes widened fractionally—this was Grodia's true power, the Selwyn secret unleashed. But he was ready. With a whispered Finite Incantatem, the curse fizzled, followed by Erwin's own Expelliarmus. Grodia's wand flew from his grip, clattering across the stone.
The crowd gasped. Grodia yielded with a nod, breathing hard but smiling faintly. "You win, as expected."
Madam Hooch raised Erwin's arm. "Victory to Prefect Erwin!"
Cheers erupted from Slytherin, mixed applause from the others. Professors nodded approvingly, though McGonagall's gaze lingered on Grodia's unleashed surge— a reminder of the pure-bloods' hidden edges.
Erwin helped Grodia up, clapping his shoulder. "Impressive, senior. That surge... it's something else."
Grodia laughed breathlessly. "Told you to go all out. You showed me mine. Now the wizarding world's yours to claim."
As they exited the arena, Charlotte watched from the shadows, her plans fracturing. Erwin's glance found her again—cold, knowing. The game had shifted.
In the days ahead, Slytherin's hierarchy would realign, and Erwin's ambitions would test the fragile peace of the pure-blood elite. But for now, victory tasted sweet.