August 31st arrived—the final evening before the new term officially comnced.
Erwin and the other Hogwarts students who had attended the World Cup gathered in the Great Hall for the traditional start-of-term feast.
Dumbledore had returned to his position at the staff table’s center, and seated prominently in the professors’ row was an unexpected but sohow unsurprising face: Gellert Grindelwald himself.
Erwin wasn’t remotely surprised by Grindelwald’s presence—the arrangent had been orchestrated largely by Erwin’s own behind-the-scenes maneuvering.
An official pardon docunt signed by the German Ministry of Magic had formally cleared Grindelwald of his historical cris and political offenses.
Erwin had personally provided his influential guarantee alongside Dumbledore’s own vouching to facilitate the release.
Rita Skeeter had been commissioned to write an extensive rehabilitation piece for the Daily Prophet, portraying Grindelwald as a fundantally good man who had made serious mistakes during his misguided youth but had since genuinely repented during his decades of self-imposed imprisonnt.
The carefully crafted narrative had run prominently in the paper for half a month, systematically and dramatically changing Grindelwald’s public image throughout the wizarding world.
Now, rather than causing widespread panic and fear, wizarding society whispered admiringly that Grindelwald was extraordinarily powerful, and that he had voluntarily entered Nurngard prison purely to atone personally for his past sins.
The revised narrative painted him as courageously taking responsibility—a fundantally good person who had temporarily lost his way before finding redemption through suffering and reflection.
Erwin had been utterly bewildered reading so of these public assessnts.
Grindelwald? Recast as a tragic hero and good person? By that standard, he—Erwin Cavendish—was practically a saint himself.
Regardless of the absurd public relations spin, the political reality was that Grindelwald had successfully left his long imprisonnt and traveled to Britain to join Hogwarts’ staff.
While the complete truth obviously couldn’t be hidden from perceptive professors like McGonagall, Dumbledore clearly trusted Grindelwald implicitly, and the teaching staff ultimately had to accept the fact they would now be working directly alongside the legendary dark wizard.
There was another significant factor behind Grindelwald’s sudden acceptance among the student body and broader wizarding public.
Erwin had been the one to jointly guarantee Grindelwald’s character and intentions alongside Dumbledore himself.
Over recent years, Erwin’s sustained efforts and demonstrated results had earned him a level of public trust and respect that now genuinely rivaled even the Headmaster’s legendary reputation.
While it might superficially appear he’d worked tirelessly for intangible recognition, the truth lay in carefully accumulated reserves.
His "wizarding acclaim" rating within the magical community had reached genuinely staggering heights according to his internal tracking.
Yet he hadn’t spent even a single accumulated point on system lottery draws or personal capability upgrades yet.
If this had been the more impulsive earlier version of Erwin, he would have imdiately sought to improve his own abilities and power through those chanisms.
But his current priorities had fundantally shifted—he now had far more strategically important objectives requiring those resources.
These carefully hoarded points might ultimately prove the decisive key to his eventual victory in the coming confrontation.
On this opening night, Dumbledore made no announcent whatsoever regarding the restructured Tournant.
The sester had only just officially begun, and substantial preparations still remained incomplete for the actual competition phases.
The other participating delegations needed additional ti to finalize administrative matters at their respective institutions before traveling to Hogwarts.
The actual arrivals would likely require roughly another week of preparation, so there was genuinely no need to rush the formal announcent yet.
The arrival of new first-year students in Slytherin House proceeded relatively normally, with only the traditional Hidden Prefect challenge drawing significant attention.
The first-year student who earned the coveted prefect’s badge this year was notably a girl—and remarkably, she didn’t co from an established pure-blood family lineage.
She ca from a modest-inco wizarding family, though her parents had formally sworn loyalty oaths to the Cavendish family structure.
The young girl had frequently visited Cavendish Tower alongside her parents over recent months, receiving personal magical guidance and tutoring that allowed her to distinguish herself significantly among her year-mates.
Charlotte personally presented the Hidden Prefect badge to the girl, who was so overwheld with joy and pride she nearly fainted from the honor.
Aside from that traditional ceremony, the primary highlight of the week was the anticipated formal duel between Charlotte and Cassandra—the annual contest for supremacy among Slytherin’s elite students.
Erwin observed the confrontation, already knowing the inevitable outco with certainty.
Cassandra was simply no match whatsoever for Charlotte’s current capabilities.
During her two-year absence from Hogwarts, Charlotte had learned imnsely under Vinda Rosier’s direct ntorship in Germany.
She had systematically shed her earlier naivety and hesitation, earning herself the fearso title of "Black Rose" alongside Vinda throughout the German wizarding underground.
Though Cassandra had unquestionably made impressive progress during the sumr holidays, she still couldn’t hope to defeat Charlotte in direct magical combat.
Charlotte hadn’t even deployed her full capabilities or signature techniques—otherwise, her silent Killing Curse would have ended the entire duel instantly before Cassandra could mount any defense.
As the match actually proceeded, Cassandra couldn’t withstand even five of Charlotte’s systematically delivered spells before her defenses completely crumbled.
After the decisive defeat, Cassandra sank into profound depression and self-doubt.
She genuinely couldn’t comprehend why the gap between their capabilities continued widening despite her absolute best efforts at improvent.
Erwin had already returned to his dormitory to rest, viewing the confrontation as little more than a childish squabble barely worth his attention.
The other Slytherin students gradually dispersed to their own activities, leaving Cassandra isolated and brooding before the common room’s fireplace.
Charlotte approached quietly and settled into a chair beside her defeated rival.
Cassandra glanced over with obvious resentnt. "Co to gloat over your victory? Fine—I lost today, but I won’t lose forever. One day I will defeat you decisively and prove to Lord Cavendish who genuinely deserves to stand at his side."
Charlotte smiled with genuine calm rather than mockery. "The Lord was absolutely correct in his assessnt—your fighting spirit remains admirably unyielding no matter how many tis you’re defeated. However, your ambitions are certainly grand, but you have essentially no realistic chance of ever realizing them against . The Lord once quoted a peerless warrior to : ’Every enemy he defeats is given ti and opportunity to improve and catch up, until eventually one day they can’t even see his distant back anymore.’ I’ll offer you that sa perspective, Cassandra: you are fundantally no match for , and that gap will only increase."
Cassandra’s expression hardened with stubborn defiance. "Your arrogance will be your downfall eventually. One day, that excessive pride will destroy you."
"Perhaps you’re correct," Charlotte acknowledged with a slight shrug. "But wiser people than you have told that arrogance is never actually a character flaw when you possess the genuine strength to sustain and justify it. Under those circumstances it transforms into what others recognize as legitimate pride. Sotis, arrogance and pride are separated by only a single step, and true power derives from that pride."
Cassandra sneered bitterly. "You’re just relying on the advantage of age and experience. If we were the exact sa age with identical training ti, the outco would be completely different."
"Maybe that’s partially true," Charlotte conceded reasonably. "But actually, you shouldn’t consider your realistic competitive goal at all. Your actual appropriate rivals should be students like Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger, and others at similar stages. You genuinely cannot compare yourself to . You don’t know what I’ve personally been through or what I’ve done to earn my current position standing beside Lord Cavendish. Our starting points and paths were fundantally different from the very beginning. How could you possibly hope to surpass when our entire trajectories are incomparable?"
Charlotte stood gracefully and patted Cassandra’s shoulder with sothing approaching sympathy.
"Keep working and improving systematically. Only by becoming stronger step by step can you secure any position of value at all. If you slack off or give up, soone else will inevitably take whatever place you might have claid. Simply being permitted to stand anywhere near Lord Cavendish already represents an enormous blessing and privilege."
She turned to leave for her own quarters.
Cassandra called out desperately, "Wait! Charlotte, just... how genuinely strong are you now? At your current level?"
Charlotte paused at the base of the stairs, considering the question.
"How strong?" she repeated thoughtfully. "If I deployed my full capabilities without restraint, an elite trained Auror wouldn’t survive three exchanges against ."
She continued up the stairs, leaving Cassandra behind with an absolutely stunned expression frozen on her face.
Cassandra understood perfectly well the capabilities of elite Aurors—the Ministry’s finest combat specialists.
The idea that Charlotte could defeat one so effortlessly and rapidly was almost incomprehensible.
Yet she knew with certainty that Charlotte wouldn’t lie about sothing so verifiable.
She simply couldn’t begin to comprehend how Charlotte had improved so dramatically and rapidly.
But soon, Cassandra’s expression hardened with renewed determination rather than despair.
She was never soone who surrendered easily to seemingly impossible challenges.
She clenched her fist tightly with renewed resolve. "Just wait and watch, Charlotte. One day—I don’t care how long it takes—I will surpass you!"
In the fireplace, the flas roared and crackled, perfectly mirroring the fierce fire of ambition burning relentlessly in Cassandra’s heart.
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