Erwin chuckled. "Don't worry, Godfather. I value my life too much to take foolish risks. If anything feels off, I'll Apparate back in an instant."
Snape nodded, though his expression remained stern. "As long as you remember that. No unnecessary heroics."
He couldn't quite shake his concern, offering one last piece of advice before letting Erwin go.
Erwin nodded. "I understand, Godfather. Oh, by the way—I've got this notebook. Could you take a look?"
He pulled out what looked like an old Hufflepuff journal and handed it over.
Snape flipped through it, his eyes widening. "This herbal knowledge is remarkably thorough. Where did you find it?"
"I came across it," Erwin replied. "Do you think it could be Professor Sprout's?"
Snape considered for a moment, then shook his head. "Unlikely. Sprout's the Head of Hufflepuff and a master herbalist, but every Potions Master or Herbologist guards their unique techniques. We've collaborated for years—I've relied on her ingredients for my brews—and I'm familiar with her methods."
"Look here," Erwin said, pointing to a page. "The way it handles knotgrass is entirely different from Sprout's approach. It's not about one being superior; both yield usable results. But this method preserves more of the plant's essence, even the fragile roots."
"So," Erwin continued, "does that mean its owner outshines Sprout in Herbology?"
"Not necessarily," Snape said. "It's more that this author excels in specific areas. Some techniques here are archaic, though. The wizarding world has refined them over time—Sprout herself pioneered many improvements. It's difficult to judge outright."
He closed the notebook. "This wouldn't be Helga Hufflepuff's own, would it?"
Erwin shrugged. "I'm not certain, but your suggestion makes sense. Even if not hers, it belonged to an early Hufflepuff. You mentioned the ancient methods, after all."
Snape nodded. "How much have you absorbed from it?"
"Strangely enough," Erwin said, "I've read it cover to cover and thought I had it all down. Yet every reread uncovers fresh insights."
"That seals it—it's likely Hufflepuff's. There's a Hogwarts legend about her: knowledge is boundless. Revisiting what you believe you've mastered reveals new layers."
Erwin tucked the notebook away. "Still, I can't fathom its true purpose. It feels tied to the Hufflepuff legacy, but I'm at a loss."
"Don't fret," Snape advised. "With your aptitude, if the legacy exists, you'll claim it. Keep studying; even without that, it'll sharpen your skills."
Erwin nodded. "I will, Godfather. It's late—I'll head out."
"Be careful," Snape said.
Erwin flashed a reassuring smile, then Apparated away.
Back in Diagon Alley, atop the Cavendish Tower, Erwin summoned Old Tom to his office and issued a few directives. He then outlined his plan for a sea voyage.
Old Tom's face paled with worry, but he knew better than to argue. Once Erwin decided, it was set in stone.
As dusk settled, Erwin arrived at the windswept beach. A sturdy ship bobbed in the shallows, prepared by Old Tom. A dozen Cavendish crew members milled about the deck.
Erwin called for the captain, who entered the cabin promptly.
"Master," the man said, saluting.
Erwin nodded and withdrew two maps from his enchanted ring. "Examine these. I've plotted the Isle of Avalon's position, but I've never sailed. Verify if it's accurate."
He wasn't one for false expertise. Maritime navigation was beyond him, and he left it to those who knew their trade. Handing over a nautical chart cold would be pointless—he'd only stare blankly.
The captain studied the maps, then spread them on the table and began marking adjustments with a quill.
Erwin waited patiently. He had no precise coordinates for Avalon, but he'd devised a straightforward approach: trust Muggle-inspired navigation.
Modern charting was reliable. He'd factored in the routes taken by Grindelwald and Patriarch Robert's vessels, accounting for wind patterns, ship speeds, and other variables. Professionals had crunched the numbers, pinpointing overlaps.
Those intersections had to mark Avalon. Erwin had cross-checked the details with both sources, etching them onto the maps.
The captain labored over the charts for nearly an hour before straightening.
"Well?" Erwin asked.
The captain hesitated. "Speak freely," Erwin urged.
"Yes, Master. From my calculations and your data, the locations don't align. They seem to overlap at a glance, but the latitudes and longitudes diverge significantly."
Erwin frowned, leaning over the table. The captain's annotations revealed discrepancies—currents, tidal shifts, even illusory distortions from magical interference. What he'd assumed was a clean match unraveled under scrutiny.
"Could it be misdirection?" Erwin mused aloud. "Grindelwald and Robert might have woven wards to obscure the true path."
The captain nodded grimly. "Possible, sir. Avalon's legend includes such protections. We'll need to plot alternative bearings—perhaps triangulate from known landmarks like the Cornish coast or Scilly Isles."
Erwin paced the cabin, the salt air seeping through the porthole. This voyage was no mere jaunt; it was a hunt for ancient secrets, potentially tied to his bloodline. Failure wasn't an option, but rushing blindly could doom them all.
"Refine it," he instructed. "Incorporate every scrap of lore we have—old logs, eyewitness tales. If magic's at play, we'll counter it with persistence."
The captain saluted. "Aye, Master. We'll set sail at dawn, adjusted course ready."
As the man departed, Erwin gazed out at the darkening sea. The waves whispered promises of discovery—and peril. With the Hufflepuff notebook's enigmas still fresh in his mind, this felt like the next thread in a vast tapestry. Whatever Avalon held, he'd claim it, or die charting the depths.
...
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