The following evening, after the feast had concluded in the Great Hall, Erwin was summoned by Snape. The Potions Master led him straight to the Headmaster's office. On the way, Snape broke the silence.
"Dumbledore wishes to discuss the Tournament," Snape said, his voice low. "The challenges originally planned are unsuitable for the current... format. A team battle renders the individual trials obsolete."
"I anticipated this," Erwin replied with a nod.
"Do you have a suggestion?" Snape asked.
Erwin shrugged. "Dumbledore is the master of theatrics. Surely he has a few ideas of his own?"
Snape's lips twitched into a faint smirk. "Indeed."
They arrived at the Headmaster's office to find the other officials waiting. The Heads of the visiting schools, Barty Crouch, and even the Hogwarts Heads of House had gathered. As Erwin entered, the room tensed, and polite greetings were offered.
"Mr. Erwin," Dumbledore began, his eyes twinkling. "Severus has explained the situation?"
"He has," Erwin said. "The tournament has changed."
"Precisely," Dumbledore agreed. "The initial challenges—courage, wisdom, and combat prowess—must be adapted. The first trial, retrieving a golden egg from a dragon, is trivial for a coordinated team. One distracts, the others retrieve. It tests nothing."
"I actually think the dragon trial is fine," Erwin countered, stepping forward. "We simply need to alter the rules."
Dumbledore leaned forward, intrigued. "Go on."
"Allow me to design the challenges," Erwin proposed. "I will ensure they are... adequate for a team setting."
The room exchanged glances. There were no objections. Snape watched Erwin with a furrowed brow, curious as to why the boy was suddenly so invested in the logistics of a school tournament.
The meeting concluded quickly. The burden of planning was handed to Erwin, a decision that relieved the others of their duties. They trusted—or perhaps feared—Erwin enough to know he wouldn't allow anyone to die. At least, not accidentally.
Days bled into weeks. Under the crushing weight of academic rigor, the excitement for the championship faded. Even the most enthusiastic students were submerged in their studies. Erwin found the monotony of Hogwarts stifling.
The American magical community remained silent. It was as if they hadn't noticed Erwin had dealt with Allen Solent. But Erwin knew better. This was the deceptive calm before the storm. The Cavendish family was preparing for war. The looming conflict wasn't a mere skirmish between houses; it was a clash of nations—the British wizarding world versus the American.
The Stewarts had returned to England, fully recovered and ready for combat. Erwin left the logistics to Old Tom.
Then came Halloween Eve.
Charlotte entered Erwin's quarters. "My lord, we have detected no movement from Karkaroff. No adult wizards have approached the Goblet of Fire."
Erwin frowned. My teacher... has truly vanished?
Tomorrow was the selection. His suspicions hadn't materialized. Had Erwin misjudged the situation? Perhaps Voldemort had abandoned the plan to force Harry Potter's name into the Goblet, using it as a Portkey to kidnap the boy?
This uncertainty gnawed at Erwin. He felt the script slipping from his grasp.
"What are your orders?" Charlotte asked.
Erwin waved a hand dismissively. "Maintain surveillance. Do nothing else."
Charlotte bowed and left. Erwin walked to the window, gazing down at the black, stagnant waters of the lake.
"Where are you, my dear teacher?" he murmured.
Voldemort's mind seemed to be playing games, and Erwin hated being out of the loop.
Halloween arrived. The Great Hall was filled with a nervous buzz. The young wizards looked up at the podium, where Erwin stood beside the Goblet of Fire. The reality of the tournament finally hit them.
At the Gryffindor table, the Weasley twins were practically vibrating with excitement.
"It's finally here! I thought we'd be old men by the time they got around to it!" one whispered.
"Everyone else seems to have forgotten, but we haven't!" the other replied. "Let's get on with it!"
Erwin tapped the Goblet, drawing the hall's attention.
"Happy Halloween," Erwin said, his voice carrying effortlessly. "But more importantly, today is the day the Goblet selects the champions. You're likely wondering why I am here instead of the Headmaster."
He flashed a charming grin. "Simple. I designed the challenges. I am your organizer."
The students cheered. Frankly, they preferred Erwin to Dumbledore for this. The ambitious students looked ready to burst with excitement. This was their chance for glory, for the Daily Prophet, and for the incredible prizes offered by the Cavendish family—the exclusive sponsor. The winning team wouldn't just receive Galleons; they would earn permanent VIP access to the Cavendish Building.