Erwin nodded, turning to leave. But Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Erwin, when will you hand over my Headmaster's authority?"
Erwin shot him a wry glance. "What's the hurry? At this rate, you'll vanish off on some quest again. What if Hogwarts faces real trouble without it? Better it stays with my godfather for now. At least he can keep things in order when you're gone."
Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, but Erwin cut him off. "Come on, Headmaster, time's ticking. If nothing's gone wrong yet, Harry should be right on cue for the show. Aren't you heading to the feast? If you don't, I reckon Filch might throttle him on the spot."
Dumbledore sighed, recognizing the futility. Erwin's mind was made up, and arguing wouldn't budge him. Fine, then—business first. The authority could wait. There was a twisted logic to it, anyway. What peril could truly threaten Hogwarts with Erwin and the four Heads of House on watch? It wasn't Azkaban, after all. But why bring up Azkaban?
Meanwhile, the new trio—Harry Potter at the lead—halted at a murky puddle. In its rippling surface, words gleamed faintly on the wall behind them: "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware."
Hermione read it aloud, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "That's blood. How revolting."
Harry frowned. "What does it mean?"
She shook her head. "No idea."
Draco crossed his arms, smirking. "Whatever it is, it's not our problem. The Headmaster will sort it."
Harry and Hermione nodded, relieved to let it go.
Then Harry spotted the shape dangling from a nearby torch bracket. "Bloody hell—that's Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat!"
Before he could say more, footsteps echoed from both ends of the corridor. A cluster of students rounded the corners and froze, eyes widening in horror at the scene: Harry, his friends, and the limp, petrified cat.
"Out of the way, all of you! What're you lot gawking at?"
Filch shoved through the crowd, his face souring at the sight of Harry. "Potter, what've you—"
He stopped dead, staring at Mrs. Norris. His eyes bulged, and a strangled gasp escaped him. "Mrs. Norris?"
Rage twisted his features as he rounded on Harry, murder in his gaze. "You! You killed my cat, Potter!"
Harry backed away, hands up. "I didn't! I swear!"
Filch lunged, seizing Harry's robes in a vise-like grip. "I'll have you! I'll see you expelled—or worse!"
Harry's heart hammered in terror.
At that moment, Dumbledore swept in, professors trailing behind him like a stern entourage. "Filch! Control yourself."
The Headmaster scanned the wall's bloody message, his expression grave. "All students, evening classes are dismissed. Return to your dormitories at once."
The crowd began to disperse, murmuring. Dumbledore's voice halted three of them. "Harry, Hermione, Draco—you stay."
Back in his quarters, Erwin lounged on his bed, stroking his cat while a cool evening breeze drifted through the window. Blissful quiet—no forced evening studies tonight. Far better to unwind early.
A sharp knock interrupted his peace. "Come in," he called.
Colin Creevey slipped inside, closing the door with a respectful click. "Sir, Filch's cat's been petrified."
Erwin nodded. "And Ginny?"
"Her roommates say she rushed back terrified, burrowed under the covers. Looked genuinely shaken."
"Good," Erwin murmured. "She's primed. Unless something derails it, she'll ditch the diary soon. All we need is a spark—tomorrow's second-year Transfiguration, right?"
Colin confirmed with a nod.
"The trigger hits then. We'll pass the diary to a new owner. Ginny's too sweet for real chaos; it wouldn't ramp up the stakes enough. No crisis, no unity. Without everyone pulling together, how do we sharpen them? Handle the arrangements—push the pace. By tomorrow, every year's professor needs to brief them on the Chamber."
Colin dipped his head and exited.
Erwin stretched out, gazing at the canopy above. Even delegating the grunt work, his mind never stopped churning.
A shimmer of starlight pierced the ceiling, and Rowena Ravenclaw's spectral form materialized, peering down at him.
"Founder," Erwin greeted. "Haven't seen much of you lately."
"Just delving into some old tomes," she replied airily. "Slytherin's beast still kicking?"
Erwin chuckled. "Basilisks are unnaturally tough. Without interference, it could outlast a dozen more Headmasters."
She frowned. "Using it for drills is madness. It's lethal—one wrong glance, and someone dies for real."
"No worries," he said lightly. "The thing's docile enough under orders. I'll have it play blind during encounters. High-resistance creatures like that are gold for training."
"And if it backfires?"
He grinned. "That's what the Headmaster's for. He'll sort it."
Ravenclaw huffed. "You two are cut from the same cloth—scheming from the shadows."
"Don't slander me, Founder. I'm the innocent here. That old fox spun this web, every thread pulling the next. If I were Harry, I'd desecrate his tomb when the truth hits."
She laughed softly. "Rest easy. I'm off to visit Helena."
With a fade, she vanished. Erwin shrugged it off.
Moments later, Dobby appeared at the door, balancing a platter. "Master Erwin, your roast chicken's ready. Shall I bring it in?"
Erwin nodded. "Aye, Dobby—just pop it here."
...
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