Erwin ignored the dazed basilisk and turned his attention to the Slytherin house team trials for Wizarding Duels, open to students from first through seventh year. Normally, the older students sat out—exams loomed large, and entering the wizarding world demanded focus. But after Professor McGonagall witnessed the game's brutal intensity firsthand, she'd insisted on including them. The boost to practical spellwork was too valuable to pass up.
Slytherin's trials were predictably straightforward, thanks to the hidden prefect system. The teams handpicked by those prefects dominated without fail—their raw power left no room for upsets. Wizarding Duels wasn't about flashy maneuvers or precision plays, not like the versions Erwin remembered from his old life. Here, it stripped everything down to pure magical might. No Unforgivable Curses, but beyond that, the floodgates opened: any spell, any tactic, so long as it crushed your opponent.
Erwin observed for a while before shaking his head. The individual Slytherins shone—after a year and a half under his guidance, their spells crackled with newfound potency. But as a unit? They were a disappointment. No tactical sense, just a relentless barrage of hexes. No coordination, no synergy. They bulldozed minions without thought, ignoring how to funnel them effectively against foes. It was all brute force, no brains. Erwin needed thinkers on his squad, not cannon fodder. He had plenty of those already.
As the trials wrapped up, the victorious teams—assembled by the hidden prefects—stood assembled, eyeing Erwin expectantly. He rose, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Feeling pretty pleased with yourselves, are you?"
The Slytherins exchanged uneasy glances. No one spoke. Professor McGonagall and the other professors shot Erwin puzzled looks. In their view, the students had performed admirably.
Erwin ignored the silence. "The other houses are still at it. But let's see what you've got. Charlotte, bring your fifth-year team forward. No wandless magic from me, no silent spells, and no area-of-effect blasts. Just the basics."
Charlotte and her teammates shared wary nods before slipping on their dueling enchantments. Erwin crossed to the opposite side of the arena, donning his own. Charlotte hesitated. "Sir, do you want us to pull in a few extras to even the odds?"
"No need," Erwin replied coolly. "Come at me."
Her team ignited with determination—this was a rare chance to impress their leader. Curious Slytherins from the other trials, along with onlookers from rival houses, crowded closer. The professors leaned in, intrigued.
The progress bar filled, and the match ignited. Erwin charged the central lane, colliding with Charlotte head-on. He flicked his wand, unleashing a flurry of simple jinxes. She dodged fluidly and countered with a stinging hex of her own.
Charlotte didn't expect it to land—Erwin's prowess was legendary. He could sidestep it effortlessly. But he didn't. He planted his feet and conjured a Shield Charm, absorbing the hit with a shimmering barrier.
In that split second, as her spell dissipated against his shield, the lane's minions surged forward, swarming her position. Charlotte twisted away, but they hemmed her in, their coordinated strikes forcing her on the defensive.
Erwin spared her a quick glance before pushing toward the top lane. He repeated the ploy across all three paths: minions pinned his opponents, drawing their fire while he slipped through the chaos, peppering them with low-level spells from the flanks.
Charlotte was the first to falter. As she blasted through a wave of minions, a Trip Jinx caught her mid-stride, sending her sprawling. The soldiers capitalized instantly, their attacks hammering down. Panic flashed in her eyes. She threw up a hasty Shield Charm, but Erwin's relentless basic spells chipped away at it until it shattered like glass.
On the viewing platform, the professors exchanged grim nods. They'd glimpsed Erwin's strategy.
Professor Flitwick murmured, "We've been shortsighted about this game. It sharpens dueling skills, sure, but those minions... they're the real key. We thought they were just set dressing for fun."
McGonagall agreed. "Exactly. I figured they added flavor, but they're tactical anchors. This isn't solo heroics—it's about syncing with your forces, turning numbers into an advantage. Remarkable design."
Sprout added, "And Erwin sees it clearer than anyone. He could obliterate them with high-level curses, but he's dismantling a full squad using nothing but fundamentals. It's a lesson in itself."
Down in the arena, Charlotte caught on amid the pressure. Gasping to her teammates during a brief lull, she said, "Eyes up, everyone. The Master's not just testing our power—he's highlighting the minions. He can't go silent or wandless, and no big spells. We've got the numbers, but he's using those bots to neutralize them. Shift tactics—clear lanes together, don't scatter."
Her squad wasn't dim; they adapted swiftly. They regrouped, funneling spells to carve through the minions while covering each other. The tide began to turn, their coordination tightening like a well-oiled machine.
Erwin watched with approval flickering in his eyes. Finally, some spark. But the match was far from over—he'd push them harder, forging raw talent into something unbreakable. The Slytherins needed to learn that true victory came not from overwhelming force, but from outthinking the enemy. And Erwin was just getting started.
...
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