As Erwin's magic surged, he uttered the incantation. From his amethyst wand tip, tiny violet flames erupted, scattering across the Yaxley family manor like embers on dry tinder. They ignited in bursts, blooming into fiery purple lotuses that devoured everything flammable in their path, growing fiercer with each breath of oxygen.
One such lotus had been precisely placed at Patriarch Yaxley's feet. The moment it flared, flames swallowed him whole. He didn't even have time to scream before the fire claimed him.
A crystal bottle slipped from his grasp, shattering against the ground amid the encroaching blaze. Erwin's gaze snapped to it. "Hmm," he murmured, intrigued. The Fiendfyre could incinerate anything—yet this small vial withstood the inferno?
He didn't approach yet; the flames raged too hot, indifferent to their caster. Anything in range burned without mercy.
The lotuses swelled, merging as they fed. The entire manor was soon engulfed, its stone walls cracking under the onslaught. Corpses turned to ash in seconds, and before long, the flames coalesced into a single colossal purple bloom. The Yaxley estate vanished beneath it, leaving only scorched earth where a proud pure-blood stronghold once stood.
Isolated in the wilds, the fire didn't spread. When the lotus finally extinguished, a faint burned sigil marked the ground at the center—like a brand seared into the soil. Smoke curled lazily from the barren patch. It was impossible to imagine this desolation had been the ancestral home of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
Erwin flicked his wand, levitating the crystal bottle to his side. He dipped a finger inside; it was icy cold, untouched by the heat. Within sloshed a blood-red liquid, gleaming oddly in the sunlight as he gave it a shake.
Lucius approached, eyeing the vial. "Uncle Lucius," Erwin asked doubtfully, "do you know what this is?"
Lucius considered it a moment. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight each have their secrets that set them apart from lesser wizarding lines—like the Selwyns' secondary magical bursts. Word is, the Yaxleys had a potion recipe for a temporary surge in power, but with nasty side effects. It's devilishly hard to brew, from what I hear. This could be it."
Erwin frowned. "If so, why didn't the patriarch use it right away?"
"Only one reason: the drawbacks must be worse than death itself. He couldn't risk it lightly—maybe he had a contingency, or figured his wards would hold. Or perhaps he just didn't have the chance. Hard to say for sure."
Erwin nodded. It made sense—like one of those desperate rage elixirs from old wizarding tales, potent but perilous. He suspected Yaxley simply hadn't had time; Erwin's breakthrough had been too swift, too overwhelming. Surrounded and stunned, the man couldn't even reach for it.
Still, this could prove useful. He'd hand it to his godfather for analysis—Snape's expertise in potions was unmatched.
Lucius glanced at the ruins. "It's done, Erwin. What's your plan for the aftermath? Pure-blood feuds are one thing, but erasing a family from the Sacred Twenty-Eight? That'll stir up trouble. Need help with the cover-up?"
Erwin shook his head. "No need, Uncle. The Malfoys' support today means a lot—I'll not forget it. I've got the cleanup handled."
Lucius nodded. "Fair enough. Owl me if you change your mind; we'll pull our weight. I'm off with the lads—Malfoy affairs won't wait forever."
"Take care," Erwin replied. Lucius Apparated away with his retinue, Narcissa lingering just long enough to extract a promise of a visit to the manor.
Erwin turned to thank the Parkinsons next. But where the Malfoys had offered aid without strings, their patriarch had terms: an alliance between the Parkinson and Cavendish houses.
Erwin agreed without hesitation. In the wizarding world's shadows, alliances were survival. The Parkinsons weren't fools; Pansy had sworn loyalty to him publicly, their only heir. Betrayal would doom them both. The patriarch settled for a verbal pact—no oaths or bindings that might sour things.
With them gone, only the Selwyns and a handful of freelance wizards remained. Erwin had a plan for them, one that would bind them tighter than any spell.
...
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