Erwin nodded. "Yes, the sensation in the Forbidden Forest felt just like accessing my Slytherin and Ravenclaw privileges. So, I suspect this diary ties into Hufflepuff's legacy."
Ravenclaw's voice echoed faintly. "You'll have to unravel that mystery yourself. I haven't a clue where it originated."
Erwin said nothing more, though he sensed he was drawing nearer to Hufflepuff's secrets.
In the Great Hall that evening, young witches and wizards buzzed with anticipation. It was their final night at Hogwarts before the summer holidays.
They didn't wait long. The professors filed in, Dumbledore at the forefront. He'd returned the day before, but Erwin hadn't yet handed back full Headmaster authority. Still, Dumbledore held the nominal title.
The staff took their seats. Professor McGonagall rose.
"Settle down, everyone. Today marks the end of term. As always, your grades have been tallied and owled home."
Faces fell across the hall, especially among the Gryffindors, whose carefree moods soured instantly.
McGonagall noticed but pressed on—Hogwarts rules were ironclad. She clapped sharply. "Of course, not all news is grim. We have the House Cup to announce! By the scores, I see no need to alter the Great Hall's decorations this year."
Slytherins applauded politely, their expressions alight with quiet satisfaction. Erwin's influence had instilled a sense of refined pride in them.
Dumbledore sighed inwardly. He'd considered awarding Harry Potter and his friends extra points for their role in the recent battle, but Slytherins had borne the brunt of it. Any forced addition would ring hollow and couldn't bridge the gap. With Erwin overseeing, only a compelling justification—and a massive one—would sway the outcome. Resigned, he let it stand.
The other houses clapped half-heartedly. McGonagall consulted her parchment, her expression clouding. Gryffindor languished in last place, and she had no desire to dwell on it.
"Fair enough," she said briskly, rolling up the scroll. "Let the end-of-term feast begin!"
Golden platters materialized, laden with roasts, pies, and puddings nearly rivaling the victory meal after the basilisk confrontation. It was, after all, a fitting send-off.
Later, in the Slytherin common room, a crowd had gathered—Slytherins alongside a handful of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Only Harry Potter represented Gryffindor; the house's pride kept most lions at arm's length from such gatherings.
Erwin stepped to the front. He tapped the table lightly. "Right, our final event of the term: the Slytherin Medal of Honor!"
Eyes turned to him eagerly. Erwin had scrapped the public scoreboard this year, heightening the stakes. Uncertainty fueled ambition; no one knew if they'd claim the prize, driving them to push harder. Last term's visible tallies had discouraged laggards too early. This approach had sparked fierce competition.
Charlotte approached, placing a sealed scroll on the table before retreating to her seat.
Even Erwin felt a thrill of curiosity—he hadn't checked the results, partly from laziness, partly to preserve the surprise. Hogwarts could use a dash of unpredictability.
He unrolled the parchment. His eyes widened fractionally at the name. Surprise flickered across his features. Her? Outscoring even Hermione?
The group leaned in, tension thick.
Erwin set the scroll down. "This year's Slytherin Medal of Honor goes to... Cassandra Worre!"
Slytherins swiveled toward her. Cassandra lounged with arms folded, a smug curl to her lips.
She rose smoothly and joined him at the front. Erwin presented the gleaming medal. "Congratulations."
Though her expression stayed composed, excitement gleamed in her eyes as she accepted it.
Hermione and Pansy exchanged gritted-teeth glares. They'd long viewed each other as top rivals—only for an outsider to snatch victory.
Erwin lifted a second box. "And this is your Hidden Prefect badge."
Cassandra affixed both to her robes, where they caught the firelight brilliantly.
"Not bad at all," Erwin said. "You've restored Slytherin's honor after last term's slip-up. The house owes you one."
"My skill earned it," she replied coolly.
Erwin grinned. "I like the confidence. Keep that fire burning."
She nodded. "I will. I hear the medal grants a request to the Head of House?"
"Correct. Planning to cash it in now? Remember, it binds not just me, but the Selwyn family."
"Yes, now," Cassandra said firmly.
Erwin inclined his head. "Very well. What's your request?"
She pivoted sharply toward Charlotte. "I want a real duel with Charlotte Teresa."
Stunned silence fell. Erwin blinked, caught off guard. Charlotte, the poised center of attention, looked equally baffled.
What on earth? Had the girl lost her mind? Why target her—and what grudge fueled this?
...
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