Lucius glanced at Erwin, his voice low and urgent. "Erwin, stand down for now. Yaxley’s ready this ti. Save your strength. After today, unless he’s a complete fool, he won’t dare face you openly again. With your talent, you’ll smash through this Protego Totalum one day. Why rush it?"
Erwin eyed the shimring azure barrier, frustration etching his features. "I can’t afford to wait that long."
"There’s no getting around it," Lucius insisted. "This ward’s too strong. Even if we all blasted it together, we’d burn through most of our magic before it cracked. Then fighting them? We’d be sitting ducks. Not worth the cost."
Erwin fell silent. He stepped forward, wand dangling loosely in his grip, brushing against his leg. Every gaze locked onto him—the weight of expectation hanging in the air.
Inside the barrier, Yaxley smirked. "The might of a pure-blood house is beyond your grasp, boy. You think you can challenge the Yaxleys? We’ll make you pay soon enough."
To Yaxley, Erwin was cornered, retreat his only play. Once he backed off, reinforcents would swarm in, turning the tide. Anyone who crossed the Yaxleys would pay with their life.
Erwin paid him no mind. He lifted his wand with deliberate calm.
Yaxley’s sneer deepened. "Still at it? Who do you think you are—Dumbledore? You can’t crack this Protego Totalum alone. You’re delusional."
Lucius leaned in, whispering fiercely. "Erwin, don’t be reckless. Few wizards could breach a ward like this solo. We’ll find another chance."
Erwin’s eyes blazed. "I fight for justice in the wizarding world. For the honor of the Cavendish na. This shell won’t hold back—or the fire in my chest for every wizard wronged by families like yours. Today, I shatter it, like dawn piercing the storm clouds of your pure-blood tyranny!"
"Reducto!" Erwin bellowed.
Purple light erupted from his wand tip, drawing ethereal strands from the air itself. With a sharp flick, a thick violet beam lanced toward the blue ward, slamming into it like a battering ram.
Yaxley’s face stayed smug. Publicity stunt, nothing more. He knew the ward’s resilience all too well.
Erwin’s magic poured out, the beam swelling as it hamred the barrier. The clash roared, forces grinding against each other. His core reserves emptied fast. Without hesitation, he tapped his backup source—deep, hidden magical reserves surging forth.
The wand groaned under the strain, fissures spiderwebbing its length. Erwin frowned; it was buckling. He felt the acacia wood vibrate wildly, protesting the overload.
Lucius and the others gaped at the wand, slack-jawed. What kind of power was Erwin channeling to push it to the brink?
Yaxley spotted the cracks too. Unease flickered in his gut, but he shoved it down. No way this kid could break through. At his age? Impossible, genius or not. Still, his stare intensified, fixed on Erwin.
Erwin glanced at his fracturing wand and sighed inwardly. Sorry, old friend. We never got our big mont. Let this be your final stand—worthy of the heirloom your grandfather chose for .
As if in response, the wand quivered harder, greedily siphoning his magic. Cracks raced along its shaft. Erwin’s reserves dwindled to a whisper.
Then, with a resonant snap, the acacia wand shattered from tip to hilt. Splinters of wood tumbled to the earth, unnoticed amid the tension.
All eyes riveted to Erwin’s hand. Where the old wand had been, sothing new glead: not quite a wand, but a slender rod of polished athyst, intricate and luminous, like a jewel forged in starlight.
The others whispered in awe. "How stunning—is that a wand?"
"What material? It looks like a dream."
"Mr. Erwin, did you burn through everything but the core?"
One voice cut through with uncanny insight. But before replies could form, another sharp crack echoed—not from Erwin, but from within the barrier.
"Whose wand now?" soone muttered.
"Another beauty like that?"
...
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