Erwin and Grodia emerged from the passageway, met with thunderous cheers from the crowd. Narcissa clutched Lucius's hand, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's him! That hair, just like his father's. And those eyes—elven, like his mother's! Poor boy, what trials he's faced to carry himself so gracefully!"
Lucius shared her excitement, his free hand shaking as it gripped his cane. He murmured reassuringly, "Easy, Narcissa. Keep it together—no one's to know yet. His hair might raise suspicions, but nothing concrete. We can't risk exposing him now. Some pure-blood families have already thrown in with them, chasing more galleons. They could turn on Erwin in a heartbeat."
Narcissa steadied herself. She cared little for politics, but Erwin's safety? That was non-negotiable. She'd never let harm come to him.
The two combatants took positions on opposite sides of the arena, faces calm amid the roar. Dumbledore nodded to Snape, who stepped into the center.
"Apparition's permitted for both of you," Snape announced. "All spells allowed except the Unforgivables. We'll keep an eye out, so focus on the fight. No rules in a duel—understood?"
Erwin and Grodia nodded. Snape had briefed them earlier, ensuring true merit in naming a prefect. The wizarding world had grown tame; back in the founders' era, duels flashed with green light, but they could intervene. Today, even Dumbledore couldn't counter a Killing Curse instantly—not with Ministry oversight.
Snape summoned Erwin and Grodia to his side. They placed their wands atop his, and he raised them skyward. "The Slytherin Prefect Challenge begins!"
Three jets of light streaked upward, merging into a serpentine totem—the Slytherin crest. Graduates in the stands, graying and nostalgic, wiped away tears, recalling their Hogwarts days.
From the Slytherin dungeons by the Black Lake, a surge of dark green magic joined the totem. It animated, twisting into a silver ring embedded with an emerald, a writhing snake inside. Snape explained, "That's Slytherin's Founder Ring. Win today, Erwin, and it's yours. Lose, and it fades until the next victor claims it. Clear?"
Erwin met his gaze steadily. "I won't lose."
Snape withdrew his wand. "Now, bow!"
The duelists faced each other, wands to chests. "Grodia Selwyn!" "Erwin Cavendish!" They inclined their heads, then turned back-to-back, widening the gap.
Without warning, they spun. "Reducto!" Grodia's spell hurtled forward.
Erwin's wand flicked silently. A nonverbal Expelliarmus met it mid-air, exploding in a burst of sparks that erased both.
Gasps rippled through the stands. Narcissa squeezed Lucius's thigh hard enough to make him wince, though decorum held his cry. His face reddened. "Narcissa, ease up—it's killing me! That silent Expelliarmus shows his edge. Relax; he's got this."
She released him, apologetic. "Sorry, Lucius. I'm just on edge."
The arena combatants launched their second exchange in sync. "Protego!"
Shimmering shields enveloped them. Grodia eyed Erwin, impressed. "Holding back, were you? A first-year matching my Shield Charm? I misjudged you."
Erwin grinned. "High praise, senior. You're stronger than I thought."
Grodia smirked. "Playtime's over. Incarcerous! Reducto! Bombarda!"
His wand blurred, unleashing three spells in rapid succession.
Erwin didn't flinch. He vanished in a crack of Apparition.
The crowd buzzed. "Apparition? In first year? Has he even tested for it?"
Lucius scoffed inwardly at the chatter. Rules bound the ordinary; they'd smoothed Erwin's path long ago. His godfather had assured him: anything goes, short of the Unforgivables.
As Erwin reappeared, his follow-up spell streaked toward Grodia, who dodged just in time. The senior's eyes narrowed— the duel had truly begun, wands flashing in a deadly dance of light and shadow. The air crackled with magic, the crowd leaning forward as loyalties clashed in the Slytherin heart.