Through subtle influence, Charlotte had woven a persona into everyone's minds: she was his, or rather, his girlfriend. It was a masterstroke. During the prefect challenge, she'd timed her retreat perfectly, showcasing her strength while showing him respect. By the principle that power attracts power, everyone assumed anyone close to him must be formidable too.
Then came her duel with the Weasley twins, where she vowed to defend him fiercely, cementing her role as his champion. Erwin was young, and though he prided himself on his wits, spotting most plots, she exploited what she saw as his blind spot: his inexperience with romance. Charlotte was sharp—brilliant, even.
The old adage rang true: men seized empires through conquest, but women could claim them by winning a man's loyalty. Consider Elizabeth I and Catherine the Great. Both rose to power with the backing of influential men before commanding empires themselves.
Charlotte was charting that course. If she locked in this image, no matter how much Erwin built or how many allies he gathered, they'd defer to her as his voice. In their eyes, she was his mouthpiece—everything she said or did carried his authority. It was a sly political play.
Bluntly put, if Erwin ever fell, Charlotte could step into his shoes, rallying his forces under the banner of vengeance to pursue her own agenda.
Erwin laid it all out, and Charlotte's calm facade held. The deference she'd feigned evaporated.
"I gave you credit where I could," she said evenly, "but I still underestimated you. Erwin, you're something else. I've lost."
"So, ready to drop the act and show your true colors?" he pressed.
She smiled faintly. "You're the clever one—why don't you guess?"
His wand tip lifted her chin with a gentle flick. "Now you've got me curious. Before today, I might not have pinned you down, but I just learned about the ancient pure-blood families."
Charlotte's pupils narrowed—a telltale flicker.
Erwin caught it and smiled. With a swift motion, his wand traced her shoulder. Magic sharpened into a blade, slicing through her robe to expose pale skin.
She didn't flinch, standing still as stone.
There it was: a silver serpent brand etched on her shoulder.
"Looks like your secret's out," Erwin said coolly.
Charlotte's voice held steady. "How did you know?"
"The mark? Don't get the wrong idea—I wasn't spying. Blame yourself; you're too careful. You wanted to boost your standing with me, but you couldn't risk anyone swaying my view of you before your plan was airtight. Then Hermione entered the picture. You couldn't gauge our history in the Muggle world, but my friendliness toward her threw you. You know I prioritize alliances, so it didn't add up."
"Hermione caught you off guard. From my attitude, you figured she mattered—a lot. You wouldn't bet against her derailing everything. If your hunch about us was right, she'd only need to whisper a word, and your scheme would crumble."
"So you pulled her in. You knew she fancied me. Building a rival persona for her would've sparked jealousy, so you played nice instead—befriended her. Took her to the Slytherin prefects' private bathroom, where she spotted the brand on your shoulder. Sometimes I wonder if you're a genius or just reckless."
Charlotte's fist tightened imperceptibly. She'd known about the mark, of course, but figured it wouldn't draw eyes.
She frowned. "Was cozying up to Hermione part of your plan from the start? Or was she already your plant before Hogwarts?"
Erwin shook his head. "Don't flatter me—I couldn't predict that. Hermione's mostly been a diversion, a chance at something fresh. She's got talent, and I respect that. But her real value? She's a vulnerability I dangled on purpose."
Realization dawned, twisting Charlotte's features in dismay. "Clever. You let everyone think she was your soft spot. The deadliest foes are those without weaknesses; by parading one, you lull them into complacency. They'll strike at her first, giving you shields—your fellow Slytherins as unwitting barriers. You're cold-blooded."
He waved it off. "Not cold—just prepared. If I'm powerful enough, I'll shield them too. Anyway, this chat's been enlightening. I've bottled up too much; needed to unload. Now that I have, it's time to end this."
Charlotte's eyes hardened. "You think you can just kill me? You know nothing about the ancient pure-blood families!"
Her magic surged, wild and fierce.
Erwin watched impassively, unruffled.
Moments later, it faltered, collapsing inward like a deflating balloon.
Charlotte's face drained of color. "What have you done? I can't access my magic!"
Erwin's smile turned predatory. He'd prepared for this— a subtle curse woven into the air around them, sapping her power without a trace until she pushed too hard. It was his backup plan, hidden in plain sight during their talk. Now, with her wand still in hand but useless, the murderous intent in his eyes was unmistakable. This was no bluff; Charlotte's fate hung by a thread, and he had no intention of mercy.