Yaxley opened his mouth to respond, but Erwin didn't give him the opening. He pressed on relentlessly. "My second point concerns Chief Yaxley's so-called conditions: that our prices must match those of the Yaxleys. As far as I recall, thirty years ago, the Ministry decreed that no shop in Diagon Alley could charge above market rates—but there's no floor on how low they can go. In plain terms, I could sell at a loss without breaking a single law. Yet Diagon Alley's rules explicitly forbid anyone from meddling in pricing. Am I correct, Minister Fudge?"
Fudge's eyes bulged. He glanced at the Auror at his side, who swiftly rifled through a thick tome of statutes. After a tense moment, the Auror nodded confirmation.
Fudge swallowed hard. Bloody hell—Erwin had him cornered with an obscure detail even the Minister hadn't remembered.
Erwin fixed Chief Yaxley with a calm, unyielding stare. Every twitch, every calculated word from the man played out exactly as Erwin had foreseen. He'd come prepared, his responses sharpened like a well-honed wand.
Yaxley glared back, his mind racing. Suddenly, the warnings from his master in the Solent family made sense: the Cavendish line was the deadliest of the four noble houses, not despite its slender numbers, but because of them. Each heir was a force unto themselves—one was more than enough.
Erwin didn't let the silence linger. "In short, the Yaxley demands are baseless. What say you, Minister?"
Fudge cleared his throat, nodding vigorously. "Quite right! Chief Yaxley, you'd do well to rethink this."
Yaxley's eyes blazed with fury as he met Fudge's gaze. The Minister stared back without flinching. It was clear now: power had gone to Fudge's head, making him paranoid about any challenge to his authority. He wasn't the reliable ally he'd once been—just a cornered politician lashing out to crush the Yaxleys while he could.
The Yaxley patriarch forced a sneer. "And what exactly does the Cavendish family propose? The ringleader's dead. A wizarding skirmish ended in fatalities—the Ministry handled arrests by the book. At worst, we're guilty of poor oversight, nothing more."
Fudge bobbed his head in agreement. As a consummate fence-sitter, this was his default: nod along and avoid commitment.
Erwin leaned forward. "Then allow me another question. Minister, you stated that the Yaxleys claimed Rivers—visiting Yaxley Manor on Cavendish business—was part of our world, magic or no. Correct?"
"Yes, precisely," Fudge replied.
"So," Erwin continued smoothly, "if Patriarch Yaxley's logic holds, anyone stepping into wizarding society sheds their Muggle status, regardless of magical ability?"
Fudge nodded again, though unease flickered in his eyes. He couldn't backtrack now; it would unravel Yaxley's defense entirely. Admitting to harming a Muggle would doom the family.
Yaxley frowned, sensing the trap but unable to pinpoint it. In his mind, Erwin had played his last card. The matter was settled—name cleared, scapegoat in place. No loose ends could tie back to him.
Erwin's smile sharpened. "Following that thread, does it mean the Muggle-born parents and relatives of Hogwarts students are now full members of our world?"
"Indeed," Fudge said, his voice tightening.
Erwin's eyes gleamed. "I was flipping through some old Daily Prophets the other day—pure curiosity, really—and stumbled on a fascinating case. A Death Eater, marked as such, faced trial. Pleas for mercy claimed Imperius control, no direct kills. But in an Auror skirmish, a stray curse hit two Muggles. He got the Kiss for it—Muggle endangerment. Yet, per Patriarch Yaxley, those Muggles had a Hogwarts-attending child, making them wizarding folk by his own rule. So, was the Ministry wrong? This was before your tenure, Minister, when you headed Magical Law Enforcement and oversaw the verdict yourself."
Fudge's face drained of color. Yaxley's expression twisted into shock. They both knew the case inside out—the Death Eater's brother had been Fudge's chief rival for Minister. Azkaban sentences didn't bar Ministry posts, but a death penalty tainted the whole bloodline, blocking advancement.
Fudge had twisted the facts, inflating the Muggle charge to "indiscriminate slaughter" and sidelining his competition. The Yaxleys had pulled strings, bending rules to force the outcome and propel Fudge upward.
Now, Fudge was trapped. Admit the error, and his career crumbled under accusations of corruption. Deny it, and Yaxley's defense collapsed, leaving the family exposed for Muggle assault—a scandal that could strip their influence.
Silence gripped the room like a Stunning Spell.
Erwin lifted his teacup, sipping leisurely as he watched them squirm. He'd never walk into this without ammunition. These wizarding elite left so many cracks in their schemes—a quick dive into records exposed it all. A bit of clever digging, and the truth unraveled like cheap thread.
...
...
Bonus chapter progress:
Power Stones: [11]/100
5 Star Reviews: [6]/10
Every stone gets us closer.