Erwin nodded. "So, Patriarch Bulstrode, you’re acknowledging the Cavendish family as one of Great Britain’s pure-blood families?"
Old Bulstrode frowned. The Cavendish family wasn’t among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but since the Yaxley family scandal, the wizarding world had quietly accepted them as such. Still, they lacked formal recognition from more than half the other pure-blood families—a key omission that barred certain privileges.
He couldn’t fathom why Erwin was raising it now, but it hardly mattered. "Of course," Old Bulstrode replied. "Conflicts between pure-blood families fall outside Ministry laws."
Erwin’s grin widened. He scanned the other patriarchs. "You all agree?"
They nodded, though Greengrass’s brow furrowed. Sothing felt off about Erwin’s angle, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. In any case, agreent was safest.
Erwin clapped his hands. "Rita, got everything?"
Rita Skeeter, the beetle reporter, slipped into the conference room. She fired off a few quick shots with her cara, then nodded. "All recorded, sir."
"Publish it imdiately," Erwin said. "As of today, the Cavendish family stands as pure-blood."
Rita hurried out. Old Bulstrode’s scowl deepened. "Cavendish, what’s your ga? We’re here about Cavendish Tower!"
Erwin chuckled. "No need to discuss it."
"What?" Old Bulstrode barked.
"Literally," Erwin replied. "I have no interest in negotiating."
Old Bulstrode’s eyes narrowed. "Think carefully, Erwin Cavendish. Ministry laws don’t bind pure-bloods—this is family business. Your sches are finished!"
Erwin inclined his head. "Precisely why I won’t bother with legal channels. Prepare yourselves, Patriarch Bulstrode."
"Prepare for what?" Old Bulstrode demanded.
"A pure-blood war, naturally."
The room fell silent, shock rippling through the group. Greengrass’s mind raced, the pieces clicking into place. The Cavendish family enjoyed de facto pure-blood status, but without majority endorsent, they couldn’t invoke ancient rites—like declaring war.
The Yaxley affair had been a farce; the Cavendishes weren’t recognized then, so it was just Yaxley overreaching. But now? With the five families here—plus the Malfoys, Parkinsons, and Selwyns—that made eight endorsents. Only about twenty pure-blood houses remained active, many crippled by Azkaban sentences or exile. Half couldn’t even vote.
Erwin had orchestrated this. By drawing their acknowledgnt, he’d unlocked the war clause.
Greengrass stared at him, a chill of apprehension settling in. This was Erwin Cavendish?
Old Bulstrode blinked, caught off guard. Arrogant? Reckless? Yes. But suicidal? No. He’d co because the Cavendishes couldn’t strike five houses at once, even with Greengrass’s wavering loyalty leaving four solid opponents.
"With our combined strength," Old Bulstrode blustered, "you dare declare war on four pure-blood families?"
Erwin’s smile didn’t falter. He turned to the Nott patriarch. "The Notts have Theodore—talented lad. Gets on brilliantly with Draco, shines in Slytherin. Strong learner; I admire that. Hogwarts has been chaotic lately—you know the risks, Patriarch Nott. Remind him to stay vigilant."
Nott’s face paled. He shot to his feet. "Patriarch Erwin, the Notts want no part in war! Today’s blunder was mine—spare us, please!"
Erwin’s expression softened. "Nonsense, Patriarch. No need for rcy. Your magical timber trade is impressive. Perhaps we could collaborate? I’m keen on it myself."
Nott forced a bitter smile, reading the threat: Erwin would muscle into their business, effortlessly. No choice. "An honor to partner with the Cavendishes."
Erwin nodded approvingly, then shifted to the Macmillan patriarch. "And your boy, Ernie? Apologies—Hufflepuff isn’t my house, so details escape . But he’s top-notch, with a wide circle of friends there. Rare for a pure-blood. If luck holds, he’ll outshine you as the next great Macmillan."
Macmillan’s composure cracked. He rose hastily. "Erwin, the Macmillans aren’t aligned with Bulstrode! We’re here for alliance with you—with the Cavendishes!"
Old Bulstrode’s face twisted in fury. "Macmillan, you—"
But Macmillan cut him off, voice rising. "I never took you for this, Bulstrode! The Cavendishes have transford the wizarding world, made real strides for Britain. You deserve what’s coming!"
The betrayal landed like a Stunner. Erwin watched, bemused, as Macmillan’s swift about-face left the room reeling.
...
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