From the parchment's hints, it seemed the Cavendish and Selwyn families had a history of collaboration. The Selwyns guarded this secret too, and it hadn't leaked out. Clearly, there was more to the alliance than Erwin knew.
He eyed the potion beside him, picked it up, and gave it a gentle shake. Though brewed for the Cavendish bloodline's innate Dragon Speaker talent, it wasn't useless to his own family. On the contrary, it could amplify their existing gifts, sparking an additional magical surge.
This elixir was a treasure, but its rare ingredients made mass production impossible. Erwin studied the vial in his hand and muttered, "I wonder if it'll push my magic to the next level."
He didn't drink immediately, though. Past mishaps had taught him caution. The previous surge had nearly torn the roof off Hogwarts. He could pass that off as an accident once, but a repeat would scream recklessness.
Erwin stood and snapped his fingers. In an instant, he Apparated into a study. The room was themed around a starry night sky, its beauty undimmed by years of disuse. Star-patterned carpets and furniture gleamed spotlessly, as if time had spared them.
No sooner had he arrived than Ravenclaw materialized.
"It's been ages since I was last here," she said softly.
Erwin rolled his eyes. "Your Majesty, this study's awfully well hidden."
This had been Rowena Ravenclaw's private retreat, known only to the four founders—and perhaps Helena. Without inheriting her legacy and a quarter of Hogwarts' secrets, Erwin would never have found the hidden floor above the Ravenclaw dorms.
Ravenclaw drifted about, her fingers trailing over the bookshelves, eyes distant with memory. "So nostalgic. I can still see Helena here, curled up with a book, peppering me with those innocent questions. But that's all gone now."
Erwin watched her, unsure how to console a ghost lost to time. Fortunately, as one of the Hogwarts Founders, she composed herself quickly, shaking off the melancholy.
"Peruse the shelves when you like," she suggested. "Many volumes date back to ancient times—you might uncover a gem."
Erwin nodded. Ravenclaw, perhaps still wistful, vanished back into her diadem without another word.
He uncorked the potion and swallowed it in one go. A bitter tang flooded his mouth, making him grimace. Moments later, as it hit his stomach, his magic ignited like dry wood in a blaze.
It boiled fiercely, surging through him. Streams leaked from his pores, bursting outward. But when they touched the study's walls, starlight pulsed across them, containing the outburst and sealing it within.
Erwin felt his power swell visibly, steadily building. The process dragged on until dusk fell over the castle. Finally, the magic settled.
He opened his eyes, a faint purple lotus blooming briefly in their depths. The System chimed in his mind.
[Congratulations, host—your magic level has increased! Current level: 4.]
Erwin let out a long breath, grinning. Level 4 meant elite Auror strength, on par with a typical professor. With his arsenal of spells and the System's edge, he finally felt secure in this wizarding world—truly able to defend himself.
He spent the next while attuning to the influx, steadying the raw power.
Meanwhile, in the Solent family's castle in Germany, Soren Solent lounged by the fireplace. A massive dragon slumbered beside him, its scales glinting in the firelight.
His hand idly stroked the beast's head. Then a black-robed figure burst in, jolting the dragon awake. It lifted its head, eyes flashing with menace, nostrils flaring smoke.
Soren patted it soothingly until it settled. "What is it?"
The intruder glanced warily at the dragon before bowing. "Master, urgent news from England. From the Yaxley patriarch—about that Cavendish boy."
Soren's hand stilled. "Oh? Let's hear it."
The figure handed over a letter. Soren scanned it, surprise flickering across his face. "Protego Diabolica? Pure-blood loyalty binding? Fascinating. I never thought that runaway would have such a shield. Any word from Nurmengard?"
"Our Ministry contacts say Vinda's broken out and headed for England," the figure replied. "She took down several Aurors at the border."
Soren frowned. "So the Black Rose abandons Grindelwald? That old fox must be pulling strings—likely targeting the escaped Cavendish line."
"Should we strike while Vinda's away, Master? End Grindelwald, then turn on the Acolytes?"
Soren's eyes narrowed in irritation. The figure dropped to his knees at once.
"Forgive me, Master—I overstepped."
"See that you don't again," Soren said coldly. "He's Grindelwald. You think we can just kill him? His stature in the wizarding world isn't from lackeys—it's his power. Never forget that."