Erwin used his authority to unlock the door to the Headmaster's office and stepped inside with Dumbledore. The old wizard settled back into his chair behind the desk, while Fawkes swooped through the open window and perched on his shelf. The phoenix shot Erwin a quick glance before turning to preen his radiant feathers.
Erwin eyed the bird thoughtfully. If his plan worked, he'd soon have a vial of Fawkes's blood. The phoenix, sensing a flicker of malice in the air, paused and shivered slightly, confusion flickering in his golden eyes. He couldn't pinpoint the source.
Dumbledore tapped the desk, conjuring a steaming cup of sweetened black tea with a subtle flick of his wand. It was a perk of his position—and Gryffindor's legacy—that allowed such small luxuries. He didn't offer Erwin anything, though the young wizard could have helped himself if he'd wanted. Even the notoriously frugal Headmaster seemed to harbor a grudge.
"Why did Voldemort's return have to come out now?" Dumbledore asked, his voice calm but probing.
Erwin leaned back in his chair, feigning nonchalance. "What? I have no idea what you're on about. Wasn't it the Daily Prophet that splashed it everywhere? How's that got anything to do with me?"
Dumbledore lifted his teacup and blew gently on the steam, which veiled his eyes for a moment. Then came the faint chime in Erwin's mind.
[Magical chime: Occlumency proficiency increased. Reaching level five converts excess proficiency to general spell mastery at a 10:1 ratio.]
Erwin's face tightened. Bloody hell, you old fox. I'll end you for this.
Sure enough, Dumbledore had tried Legilimency again. Surprise crossed the Headmaster's features. "Your Occlumency has advanced remarkably."
Erwin's tone turned icy. "What can I say? I've been practicing. Some people can't resist prying into my thoughts."
Dumbledore ignored the edge in his voice, his expression serene and smiling as ever. "A wise precaution, then. Erwin, you're the most gifted young wizard I've encountered. But with Voldemort's return public, Harry could be in real peril. Some Death Eaters slipped away using every trick in the book."
Erwin nodded curtly. "I'm sure you'll keep every Hogwarts student safe, Professor. Best of luck with that."
Dumbledore's smile didn't waver. "Let's cut to the chase, Erwin. What are your terms?"
Erwin met his gaze steadily. "Terms? For what—nannying Harry Potter? Not interested. To be blunt, whether he lives or dies is no skin off my nose. This was all for the Philosopher's Stone. Face it, Professor: you've got nothing left to bargain with."
"In that case," Dumbledore replied mildly, "forget it. I'm weary, Erwin. An old man needs his rest."
Erwin's brow furrowed. This didn't add up. Dumbledore should be haggling, not folding so easily. Then it clicked. Snape. The Potions Master would die before letting harm come to Harry—and as his godson, Erwin couldn't stay out of it. The Headmaster was banking on that bond, using Snape as leverage against him. Clever old bastard, pulling strings like a puppeteer.
Dumbledore's face remained placid, but Erwin felt a chill. How many steps ahead was the man always thinking? Had he orchestrated Erwin's entire path at Hogwarts from the start, weaving in Snape's history with his parents?
"What is it, Erwin?" Dumbledore prompted. "Anything else for this old fool?"
Erwin shoved down his unease. "You never cease to amaze me, Professor. You've anticipated everything. But one thing you overlooked: I don't like being a pawn. If the trouble can't be fixed, eliminate the source."
He rose abruptly, a cold killing intent radiating from him as he headed for the door.
Dumbledore jolted upright. "Wait—Erwin, what are you planning?"
"For my godfather's sake—and to stop him from throwing his life away—I'm sending Harry Potter to join his parents." Erwin's voice was flat. "Feel free to intervene, but you'll have to leave this office to do it. Or try killing me yourself, if you think you can manage that these days."
Dumbledore's shock was palpable. He hadn't anticipated such directness. As Erwin reached the door, the Headmaster called out desperately, "Erwin, wait! We can discuss this!"
"No need," Erwin shot back. "My godfather's safety comes first. As you said, you're tired—old folks need their shut-eye. I won't keep you. It'll be quick and clean; no witnesses. You can count on my skill."
He made no effort to mask his intentions from Dumbledore. The Headmaster was too sharp for pretenses anyway—he knew exactly what Erwin was capable of. As Erwin twisted the doorknob, Dumbledore's anxiety spiked. He had no doubt the boy would follow through.
"If you kill Harry," Dumbledore pressed, "how will you face Severus?"
Erwin paused, and relief washed over Dumbledore. He was gearing up for more persuasion when Erwin turned with a smirk. "I'll take his eyes as a keepsake. Preserve them nicely, so Godfather has a memento."
Dumbledore stared, utterly at a loss. Who had twisted the boy into this?
"Erwin, what do you want?" he demanded.
Erwin halted, a triumphant smile curling his lips. He'd won this round. Truth be told, it was all a bluff—Harry was too valuable an asset to dispose of, and the boy had a flair for drama that kept the story rolling.
"Phoenix blood," Erwin said. "A full vat of it."
...
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