Erwin nodded. He wasn't entirely sure how owls pinpointed their targets in the wizarding world—it always struck him as a bit magical in the truest sense. Still, they never failed.
"Professor," he said, "please be careful. If you run into trouble you can't handle, don't take unnecessary risks."
Snape inclined his head. "Don't worry. In this world of magic, few things truly trouble me."
Erwin knew he meant it. With Snape's prowess, threats were scarce. But caution never hurt. He pulled a black robe from his enchanted ring and handed it over.
Snape eyed it curiously.
"It's enchanted with a Shield Charm," Erwin explained. "Godfather, promise me—you won't take it off."
Snape paused, then slipped it on right there. The robe featured a subtle communication rune embroidered on the collar, its deep black fabric hooded and reaching just past his knees. It shrouded half his face without clashing with his usual somber air; if anything, it lent him an air of quiet authority.
Erwin smiled, satisfied. Even Snape could use a fresh wardrobe now and then.
Then Erwin produced a pistol from the ring. "Take this too. I've left instructions in your office—details on how it works. You're powerful, but keep it close. Promise me."
Snape nodded, accepting without protest. His godson's concern warmed him more than he'd admit. He tucked the firearm away securely.
The train's whistle pierced the air.
"Right, Godfather," Erwin said. "I need to say goodbye to the other Heads of House. I'll see you soon—visit when you're back."
Snape gave a final nod.
Erwin bid farewell to Professor McGonagall and the others, then boarded just as the Hogwarts Express let out its mighty whistle and lurched forward.
The four Heads of House lingered on the platform, watching the scarlet engine vanish into the horizon. Reluctance mingled with relief in their gazes—a grueling year of lessons and discipline behind them.
Aboard the train, Erwin claimed his private compartment as Patriarch. No interruptions. Hermione was chatting animatedly with Harry and Draco elsewhere. Gazing at the blurring countryside, Erwin felt a surreal pang. The year had flown by, his skills surging ahead. It seemed only yesterday he'd boarded this very train.
They pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters soon enough. Students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff spilled out first, eager for home. Slytherins held back, awaiting their leader.
With the crowd thinning, Erwin rose, smoothed his robes, and stepped out. A cluster of prefect candidates waited at the door.
"Patriarch!"
"Let's go," Erwin said. "Time to disembark."
The Slytherins filed off in orderly rows, luggage carts prepped beside the rails. They claimed their belongings and marched out as one, silent and precise.
At the station exit, throngs of parents waited impatiently. Some frowned—why hadn't their child emerged yet? Spotting young witches and wizards was simple: Muggle kids didn't tote owl cages on trolleys.
The Slytherins' arrival turned heads. Muggles stared in admiration at the disciplined procession cutting through the bustle like a well-drilled unit. Erwin led at the front, his expression calm and composed, a faint smile playing on his lips. Behind him, the students pushed their carts in perfect formation—no chatter, no chaos.
Onlookers parted instinctively. Slytherin parents zeroed in on Erwin, many recalling his fierce duel for top honors. He had reshaped the house's reputation.
One father murmured, "Why didn't we have someone like him back in my day? The lad's a force."
He clamped his mouth shut, cheeks coloring, but nods rippled through the crowd. They all felt it.
Erwin raised a hand. "Disperse, everyone. Enjoy the holidays, but don't slack—preview next year's material. I want to see that badge on one of you come September."
The Slytherins straightened, energized. "Yes, Master!"
They broke ranks neatly, heading to their families. Each paused to bow slightly to Erwin in parting; parents offered respectful nods and greetings. The Cavendish name now commanded real weight.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had come for Draco. As the platform emptied, Patriarch Parkinson, the Malfoys, and old Selwyn approached.
Erwin greeted them courteously.
"Erwin," Lucius said, "you must visit sometime."
"I'm afraid it'll have to wait, Uncle Lucius," Erwin replied. "Just back from school—matters to attend to at home."
Lucius nodded understandingly. "Of course. We'll talk when you're free. There's something I need to discuss. Owl me."
"Will do," Erwin promised.
Narcissa opened her mouth, but Lucius gently steered her away with a subtle shake of his head. The Malfoys departed as a trio.
A short distance off, Narcissa glanced back doubtfully. "Why stop me from speaking to him longer?"
"There'll be time," Lucius assured her. "Chat freely when he visits. But he's got responsibilities now—not just some schoolboy. He's head of the Cavendish family. We wait our turn."
...
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