Erwin's face remained a mask of stoic patience. Why would Snape make such a bizarre request?
It didn't fit the Potions Master's character at all—it sounded more like something Dumbledore would concoct. But the request bore his godfather's signature. Erwin, though deeply reluctant, had no choice.
His godfather. What could he do but obey?
He transformed his clothes into robes with a flick of his wand and Apparated, reappearing in the Forbidden Forest. Rubbing his temples, Erwin felt a wave of helplessness wash over him. He didn't want to overshadow the visiting delegations, but he couldn't refuse his godfather's command.
Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's office, Snape stared at Dumbledore with a thunderous expression.
"Alright, Dumbledore. I've delivered the message to Erwin. But I must say, I do not approve of your methods."
Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles. "Severus, the spectacle they've created is quite obvious. They plan to make a grand entrance tonight. You wouldn't want Hogwarts to lose face, would you? Only Erwin can handle this now."
Snape sneered. "I don't care about your vanity. If Minerva hadn't come to me, I wouldn't have helped you at all. Whether Erwin chooses to act is his business. I'm washing my hands of it."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Don't worry—Erwin will definitely do it."
Snape looked at him with suspicion, unable to comprehend the Headmaster's confidence. In Snape's experience, Erwin avoided pointless displays. Dumbledore merely smiled, offering no explanation.
Erwin had no idea a forgery was involved. He only knew that if his godfather requested it, he had to deliver. Yet the task seemed absurd. He stood in the Forbidden Forest while Ebony and the Bowtruckle played nearby. According to the letter, the visiting schools had already staged impressive displays during the semifinals. Tonight's arrival was to be their grand debut. As the host, Hogwarts couldn't afford to appear weak. Erwin was supposed to overshadow them, establishing Hogwarts' prestige.
Erwin genuinely felt stuck. He didn't want to embarrass the guests, and frankly, he had no inspiration. The visiting schools were performing arts institutions—overshadowing them should have been simple. But the Eastern delegation was different. Their use of magic and complex formations was elaborate, to say the least. In combat, they usually concealed their power, but Erwin had seen what happened when they unleashed everything. It was undeniably impressive, though perhaps a bit much. A spectacular cascade of magical effects. Suppressing them wouldn't be easy.
Then a movement caught his eye. Erwin's expression brightened. An idea was forming.
While Erwin brainstormed, Filch had already arranged accommodations for the guests. They would stay at Hogwarts for the year. Although they could find their own lodgings, the school's arrangements were more convenient. After unpacking, Sunny Finch asked a student for directions to the Slytherin common room. She wanted Erwin to show her around.
As for the language barrier, magic offered a solution. Magic is a power from the heart—belief creates the effect. Even if Erwin didn't speak her dialect, the magical world possessed methods to bridge the linguistic gap, though this generally applied only to human languages. It was one reason the global magical community rarely interacted with supernatural entities—their languages were often untranslatable.
Sunny Finch navigated the winding corridors until she reached the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory. Fortunately, the common room was in the dungeons, sparing her the notorious moving staircases. She arrived before a stone wall and closed door, facing the portrait of a gaunt figure.
She looked at the portrait with interest. The Eastern magical community possessed similar artifacts but treated them as relics, rarely using them for everyday purposes. Many of their founders left no portraits, considering such creations impractical—potential sources of conflict if a strict disciple encountered a disrespectful ancestor. The founders had been thorough in their considerations.
A deep voice boomed from the portrait. "Password!"
Sunny Finch scratched her head. "I don't have one."
"No password, no entry!"
Sunny Finch resisted the urge to knock and said, "I'm here to see Erwin. We're friends."
The portrait looked her up and down, then nodded. "I see. Come in."
Without hesitation, the portrait swung open.
Just then, Draco Malfoy returned. He froze at the sight. As expected, their Head Prefect was outrageous. Someone merely claimed to know him, and the portrait granted entry? Was security a joke?
Although Sunny Finch had observed the Slytherin common room before—wondering why anyone would choose to live underwater—stepping inside was different. The room was dimly lit, possessed of a unique, submerged atmosphere. She looked up to see the giant squid and other creatures of the Black Lake swimming past the enchanted windows.
Draco followed her inside, eyeing her warily.
"Hello, guest," he said, his tone haughty. "I am Draco Malfoy, Head Boy of Slytherin. I trust you find your accommodations satisfactory?"
Sunny Finch smiled, ignoring his pompous tone. "They're adequate. I was looking for Erwin. Do you know where he is?"
Draco straightened his shoulders, puffing up with pride. "The Head Prefect is likely busy with important matters. I, however, am available to assist you. Perhaps a tour of the Slytherin common room?"
Sunny Finch scanned the dark, velvet-draped room. "I've already seen it."
Draco blinked, taken aback. "You... have?"
"I have my ways," she replied cryptically, before spotting Erwin walking in from the corridor.
Erwin looked slightly tired but otherwise composed. "Sunny Finch. I see you've found your way here."
Draco stiffened. "Head Prefect! She didn't have the password, yet the portrait let her in!"
Erwin waved a hand dismissively. "The portraits are generally accommodating to those who show respect, Malfoy. Besides, I was expecting her."
Draco looked back and forth between them, realizing he was intruding on a private conversation. "Right. I have rounds to attend to." He turned and hurried away, casting a confused glance over his shoulder.
Once he was gone, Sunny Finch turned to Erwin. "Your school is interesting. The architecture is quite European."
"It has its charm," Erwin replied, leading her toward a cluster of armchairs near the fireplace. "So, what brings you to Slytherin? I assumed you'd be settling into your assigned quarters."
"I wanted to see where you lived. And to ask about the demonstration tonight."
Erwin sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Ah, yes. The 'performance.' My godfather seems to think Hogwarts needs to assert its dominance."
"Is that difficult for you?" Sunny Finch asked, genuinely curious. "From what I've seen, you're quite capable."
"It's not about capability. It's about taste," Erwin said dryly. "I don't enjoy turning events into spectacles. But I suppose I have an idea."
"Oh?"
Erwin's eyes gleamed with a sudden spark of ambition. "If the visiting schools want to put on a show, we won't try to outshine them with flash. We'll outshine them with substance."
Sunny Finch raised an eyebrow. "Substance?"
"Wait and see," Erwin said, a faint smile touching his lips. "Tonight will be a demonstration of true Hogwarts magic."