Erwin finished speaking, and from the activation devices scattered around the wizarding honor podiums, shimmering light screens flickered to life. Each displayed Erwin's image, clad in the latest team uniforms: emerald green for Slytherin, scarlet for Gryffindor, azure for Ravenclaw, and sunny yellow for Hufflepuff. The house crests gleamed on the backs, projected as twinkling lights that hovered and danced in the air—stunningly lifelike.
The first-years' eyes widened in awe. Erwin drew his wand with a flourish. On the Slytherin uniform, the serpent head reared up, and his name—Erwin Cavendish—unfurled from its jaws like smoke, settling elegantly onto the fabric in glowing script.
"So cool!" the crowd burst out.
"Wizard's Glory is huge right now—a skin with your signature? That'd be brilliant!"
"And Mr. Erwin said all proceeds go straight to the player!"
"I can practically see the Galleons piling up!"
The Weasley twins' eyes gleamed with misPatriarch. They'd shown little interest before, but now? They eyed their three filler teammates hungrily, itching to swap them out. Those were golden Galleons on the line!
"Oh, and one more surprise," Erwin added with a grin. "Anyone who makes the school team gets every skin in the game—for free. Even future releases will be yours, no charge."
The first-years lit up like fireworks. Every participant was a die-hard Wizard's Glory fan, craving those enchanted robes. But they weren't cheap: standard ones ran 6.8 Galleons, limited editions twice that—practically the price of a wand. Saving up took ages for just one.
Erwin was clever about it, though. He flooded the market with temptations: Christmas specials, Snowdown showdowns, Valentine's editions. He'd raked in a fortune, leaving the students green with envy. The effects were dazzling—robes that shimmered and sparked like living magic. Now, all of it handed out gratis? The hall erupted in frenzy. Eyes reddened as players glared at rival teams. Even the casual joiners balled their fists, ready to scrap.
Erwin's lips twitched into a satisfied smile. Perfect—that fire in their eyes. Let them clash in a brutal showdown. Winners would claw to defend their spots; losers would grind to steal them. To grow stronger, they'd seek out older students, pester professors, or—best of all—head to Slytherin.
The upperclassmen had their own training to chase, and professors couldn't tutor endlessly. That left one clear path: Slytherin's common room, under Erwin's guidance. House points would pour in, skills would sharpen overnight. And after weeks of his lessons? They'd be loyal to a fault.
Erwin might lack raw talent in some arts, but he knew motivation. Galleons hooked nine in ten first-years. For the rest—the well-off ones—a signature skin's prestige would seal the deal. He knew his audience.
Seeing their eager faces, Erwin laughed. "Enough talk—Hogwarts' first Wizard's Glory team trials start now!"
House-elves scurried from behind the staff table, arranging chairs. Dobby beamed as he fetched one for Erwin, setting it just so. Erwin settled in without fuss. Charlotte, ever quick, pressed a steaming cup of black tea into his hand.
Pansy, hovering nearby, scowled. She'd missed her shot to impress. Note to self: beat Charlotte to it next time. As Erwin rose to join the professors, she edged closer, ready to offer a drink of her own.
Professor McGonagall waved him over. "Erwin, sit with us!"
He obliged, and Charlotte trailed, dragging a spare chair to the professor's side. Erwin dropped into it, right beside McGonagall.
"You daft boy," she chided fondly, "gifting all those robes—you'll bankrupt yourself."
"It's fine, Professor," Erwin assured her.
"Why not tally the cost? Hogwarts can reimburse you."
The other professors murmured agreement. From the shadows, Dumbledore watched, fists tight. Cavendish's vaults were bottomless, but McGonagall footing Erwin's bill? The old Minerva, ever the penny-pincher, seemed lost. He dreaded Erwin saying yes.
Luckily, Erwin knew Hogwarts' coffers were lean. He shook his head. "No need—these are all Cavendish products. Mass-producing them is simple. No real loss."
McGonagall relaxed, though puzzled. As long as he wasn't out of pocket, all good. She ruffled his hair. "Too sensible for your own good."
Erwin just smiled. Dumbledore exhaled, relieved. Dodged a Galleon-shaped bullet there.
The trials kicked off with gusto. Floating screens hovered over each pitch, broadcasting the action in crystal clarity. Erwin marveled at the tech—these beat anything from his old life, even fancy Muggle telly.
While Hogwarts buzzed in the Great Hall, oblivious to the outside world, a massive basilisk slithered through the castle's dim corridors. The beast paused, its yellow eyes blinking in confusion. Where was everyone? It had risen for a hunt, fangs itching for prey—but the halls echoed empty. No screams, no footsteps. Just silence.
Had they all vanished? The serpent hissed in frustration, coiling tighter. This was no fun at all.
...
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