After the Slytherins returned to their dormitories, the group of hidden prefects headed upstairs. Pansy's face was grim as they climbed the stairs. She muttered under her breath, "Cassandra—why does she get the Heir's favor? Bloody hell!"
Charlotte, walking ahead, caught the words and glanced back with a sly smile. "Not convinced?"
Pansy shot her a cold look. "I just don't get it. She's only just arrived at Hogwarts. She hasn't even breached the Heir's fire shield or proven her loyalty!"
Charlotte's smile widened. "Cassandra's strength is impressive, I'll give her that."
Pansy frowned. "So what? I don't deny it. But I'll become stronger than her."
Charlotte nodded. "I believe you, Pansy Parkinson. But first, prove your worth. If you're not strong enough, one day you won't even qualify to trail in the Heir's shadow. You don't want that, do you?"
Pansy's expression hardened, though a flicker of worry betrayed her eyes. She clenched her fists. "I will. I'll be the strongest at the Heir's side—even if it means surpassing you."
With that, she quickened her pace and brushed past Charlotte, heading to her dormitory. Charlotte watched her go, unperturbed, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She recalled the task Erwin had assigned her on the train that day: rally the Slytherins to claw back the 150 house points lost in the opening feast brawl with Gryffindor.
She hadn't devised a plan yet. "Then let's start with Pansy," she murmured. "Such a promising girl—just a bit slow on the uptake."
Straightening her robes, Charlotte veered away from her own dormitory and climbed to the top floor. At Erwin's door, she knocked softly. "My lord."
"Come in," Erwin's voice replied.
She entered to find him by the window, cradling a steaming cup of black tea, his back to her. "All settled?"
"Yes," Charlotte said. "The Slytherins are back in their dorms."
"How did Cassandra perform?"
"Excellently. Her power exceeds what's typical for her age—on par with third- or fourth-years."
Erwin nodded. "Your hunch was spot on. It's intriguing how someone like her emerges in this era, with magic-enhancing potions long vanished. The Worre family—ever heard of them?"
Charlotte thought for a moment. "No such name in England, Germany, or France. Perhaps America."
Erwin gazed at the Black Lake below, its surface like glass. "America. The wizarding world there must be full of surprises. Pity the holidays are so short—I should visit sometime. Investigate them."
"Yes, sir. But I'll need the Cavendish family's resources."
"Coordinate with Old Tom."
Charlotte nodded, stepping closer to retrieve the saucer from the table and hold it up respectfully. Erwin set his cup down and turned.
"What about that Alva girl?"
"She overtaxed her magic and fainted. I had her taken to her dormitory."
"How much do you know about the Alva family?"
"Almost nothing. They're shrouded in mystery—their abilities, their numbers. All we know is they're powerful. Family records hint their gifts are... unusual."
Erwin recalled the seemingly helpless Alva girl's display earlier. Strange indeed.
"Your thoughts on someone throwing herself at our mercy like that?"
Charlotte frowned. "I don't understand it. Anywhere else, I'd have ended her without a second thought and offered her bloodline to you. But at Hogwarts—in Slytherin? She's handed her life to us. That's the baffling part."
Erwin stayed silent. He shared her confusion. Outside these walls, the girl wouldn't have lasted an hour. But this direct approach... it gave him pause. Caution was his nature; he wouldn't risk a trap.
He tapped the windowsill. "Any word on the Conrad family, the Alvas' vassals"
Charlotte shook her head. "I've scoured records all summer—for the Alvas and Conrads alike. Nothing. They've vanished without a trace."
Erwin's brow furrowed slightly.
"My lord," Charlotte ventured, "should we eliminate Zoe Alva?"
He paused. "Not yet. Has her dormitory been sorted?"
"Yes. No first-year roommates—only older students utterly loyal to you. They'll spot trouble instantly."
"Good. Keep tabs on her. I want to know everything: who she is, that owl she sent off. Intercept the letter if you can—find out its contents and destination."
"Understood, sir."
Erwin waved her off. "Rest now."
Charlotte set the teacup down, bowed, and left.
Erwin leaned against the window. Alva. Intriguing. He'd uncover the secrets of the Upper Four—the enigmatic Alvas, the vast Demos, the wealthy Theresas, the cunning Cavendishes. Things were heating up.
He settled into bed. The new term at Hogwarts had truly begun.
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, Ginny huddled under her covers, staring at the black diary on her bed. Questions swirled in her mind: What was this thing? How had it ended up here? When had she even bought it?
...
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