Erwin nodded. "Keep it clean. You're capable enough. From now on, work closely with Tom. Learn from him—he's getting on in years, and you lot are destined to be my right-hand men. The future of the Cavendish family rests on your shoulders."
The wizard's eyes lit up with barely concealed excitement. He nodded vigorously. "Rest assured, sir. My loyalty to Cavendish is absolute."
Erwin approached and clapped him on the shoulder. "I have high hopes for you. Now, get back to work and wrap things up."
The wizard bobbed his head and hurried out, the door clicking shut behind him.
Tom emerged from the adjoining room. "Master!"
Erwin nodded. "Let him shadow you. Make him feel valued. Once the Gringotts situation fully unravels, he'll still have a role to play."
Tom inclined his head. "Understood, sir. But is it wise? These sorts of tasks should fall to our own people. They're outsiders, even with the mark—their loyalty isn't ironclad."
Erwin shook his head. "Tom, I never throw my own into the fire. You and I both know the backlash from Gringotts and those pure-blood families will be fierce. Am I to sacrifice our people for it? Like you said, they're expendable."
Tom nodded, falling silent. He knew his young master's scheme inside out. It was ambitious, every step a tightrope over disaster. One slip, and the entire wizarding world could turn against them. They needed a scapegoat—someone important enough to cultivate, whose loss would buy more than it cost.
This wizard fit the bill perfectly. Erwin couldn't risk pushing Tom forward; the old butler was indispensable.
It wasn't ruthlessness, in Erwin's view. Anyone outside his inner circle was a pawn, as long as the payoff was worth it.
He drifted to the window, gazing down at Diagon Alley's bustling streets. "This lane's too cramped for all these shops. Tom, you've got two years—no more—to execute my plan. I want every storefront under the Cavendish banner, or at least flying our flag. Use whatever means necessary; you've got my full backing. Any trouble, I'll step in."
Tom bowed deeply. "As you command, Master."
Erwin nodded. "Business here is nearly sorted. Time to keep my appointment."
Tom hesitated. "To Germany?"
"Indeed. Grindelwald—that's Grindelwald! A true legend. I can't wait to meet him."
"Shall I accompany you, Master?"
Erwin shook his head. "Stay and oversee Diagon Alley. With our pivot to currency, things will heat up fast. Deploy our people—the first move is getting the holdout shops accustomed to paying via enchanted bills."
Tom bowed again in assent.
Erwin snapped his fingers and vanished in a swirl of Apparition. A faint magical sigil lingered where he'd stood.
Tom straightened his tie, smoothed his graying hair, and strode from the office. Rivers waited outside.
"Has the Master departed?"
Tom nodded curtly. "He has."
Rivers frowned. "Germany's the Solent family's domain—those rebels. Should we tail him? It could get dicey."
Tom paused. "Send a few scouts, but keep it light. Until the Master's bloodline fully awakens, the Selwyns won't dare kill him. They want him alive, but he's too strong now for capture. Focus the team on probing the Stewards."
Rivers blinked, startled. "Our kin? You mean...?"
Tom nodded. "Before the old Master was struck down, those relatives vanished. We returned to a razed manor. The old Master always suspected one of the ancient wizarding houses was behind it. My inquiries turned up traces—likely the Solents, and possibly the Diggorys too. Have our people dig: are the missing ones dead, or in Selwyn hands?"
Rivers nodded. "I'll lead it myself."
Tom shook his head. "No. The Master doesn't know the others; a mishap there won't pull him off course. But you and I? We're too close. If they spot you, he might rush in to save you, clouding his decisions elsewhere. We can't risk even a hint of complication."
Rivers relented. They would never burden their young lord—not even with the shadow of one.
...
That night, under a high moon, the Cavendish family's private jet touched down at the German airport.
Erwin stepped onto the tarmac.
Why fly like a Muggle, you ask? Simple: he'd never set foot in Germany before. No Apparition anchor.
Portkeys and Floo networks? Unreliable for international jaunts, especially without Ministry oversight. And while Cavendish brooms were swift, this jet was faster—and far more comfortable.
With his forged passport and booked itinerary, everything was above board. He traveled as the Earl of England, a title that commanded respect even from German officials. Two sleek cars idled nearby, ready to whisk him away.
...
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