Though Erwin yearned to spectate the unfolding chaos, he knew better than to dive into that fray. This was no skirmish he could join without courting disaster. Even before they breached the castle, he’d glimpsed the crystal orb on the black-robed intruder’s scepter flare to life. A shimring magical shield snapped into place, snuffing out Snape’s barrage like a candle in the wind.
Erwin had to admit, it was impressive. His own Shield Charm couldn’t muster that kind of resilience. Did these intruders truly believe they could take on Snape as if he were so alley cat? The Potions Master wasn’t one to trifle with.
Then, a seismic surge of magic ripped through the air. A commanding voice bood, "You’ve gone too far!"
Dumbledore. Erwin finally grasped the Headmaster’s raw power firsthand. If his own magic resembled a pond, Dumbledore’s was an endless sea—vast, unyielding, and utterly overwhelming.
Peering through the corridor’s windows, Erwin watched the sky ignite in crimson fury. A piercing cry echoed, and a phoenix wreathed in flas plumted from the heavens.
"Fawkes?" Erwin murmured, intrigued. In the tales he’d read, the bird seed more like a glorified turkey, its feats glossed over. But this... this was sothing else.
Fawkes beat his wings toward the barrier, only for another black-robed figure to intercept him. The intruder’s scepter glowed, unleashing a lance of obsidian light. Fawkes shrieked, flas erupting in a protective inferno that swallowed the curse whole.
Erwin swallowed hard. No wonder the phoenix could decimate half a dozen Death Eaters single-handedly. The stories had undersold it.
As Erwin edged toward the Great Hall, the clash outside escalated. The lone black-robed foe facing Snape and the other professors had sohow multiplied into four, each tangling with a Head of House. Spells streaked like cots—far beyond any Muggle film’s pyrotechnics.
But where had they all co from? Six holding off Dumbledore, one tangling with Fawkes, four against the professors—that tallied eleven. If more lurked, Hogwarts might crumble.
The grim thought had scarcely crossed Erwin’s mind when his inner voice blared a warning.
[Host, get out of here!]
Erwin dove sideways on instinct. A jagged bolt of lightning scorched the floor where he’d stood, drawing a muffled curse from the shadows.
"Interesting. You dodged that," a voice sneered. "Perhaps you’re not entirely useless after all."
Cold sweat drenched Erwin’s back. His earlier jinx had rung true—there was another.
A pallid figure in black robes slithered from the gloom. "Who are you? Why target ?" Erwin demanded.
The intruder chuckled darkly. "Pathetic. You don’t even know who you are—or how your parents t their end. Coincidence, that. I ended them. And now, I’ll end you."
Erwin’s expression stayed stone-cold. The man barked a laugh. "Bland as porridge? How disappointingly predictable."
Inside, Erwin seethed, but he wouldn’t let the bastard rattle him. Emotion was a killer’s best ally. "I’m curious," he said coolly. "How’d you slip into Hogwarts? Dumbledore’s wards are ironclad."
The intruder shrugged. "Since you’re a dead man walking, I’ll indulge you. Simple: I carry no magic. His defenses can’t sense a Squib like . Oh, and that’s precisely why I got your parents—Dumbledore shielded them well, but not well enough. Pity."
Erwin’s pulse quickened. No magic? Then what was that lightning?
"Enough chatter," the man growled, raising his scepter.
"Hold on," Erwin pressed. "You’re not just here to kill , are you? Attacking Hogwarts screams ulterior motives. What’s the play? And does offering really serve it?"
The intruder paused, eyeing him appraisingly. "Clever boy. You’re right—we need you, alive or dead. Alive’s preferable, but I doubt you’ll co quietly."
The crystal orb pulsed ominously. Erwin lifted a hand. "Wait. How do you know I won’t surrender? You haven’t asked."
Silence stretched. The man lowered his scepter slightly. "So, you’re willing? You’ll co with us?"
Erwin’s lips twitched into a grin, bright and disarming. "Do you love ?"
In a blur, he flung his arms forward. Two sharp clinks echoed as tallic spheres tumbled across the stone toward the intruder’s feet.
The man blinked at them. "Your ace in the hole? A pair of iron marbles?"
Twin detonations roared, fireballs erupting in a deafening blaze that swallowed the figure whole.
Erwin wasted no ti. He flicked his wrist, wand materializing in his grip. "Expelliarmus!"
He’d nearly uttered sothing far worse—Sectumsempra, that vicious curse from the Half-Blood Prince’s notes—but caught himself. No Unforgivable Curses at Hogwarts. The wizarding world didn’t care about intent; cast one, and Azkaban awaited, good wizard or bad. Even Harry had skirted the rules only in dire straits, and always in secret.
Dark wizards flouted the law, but Erwin wasn’t one of them. Not yet, anyway.
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