Erwin felt quite satisfied with Old Tom’s demonstrated competence in personnel managent. Let them enjoy this comfortable existence for now, he thought pragmatically. Once they’ve genuinely tasted this improved quality of life, they’ll fight desperately to protect it when the critical mont arrives.
There was an old saying about motivation: oxen and horses require whips to make them work. But tis had fundantally changed. The taphorical whip had evolved considerably—from simple woven rope to leather implents, and now? The modern whip was the promise of comfortable life: secure housing, financial stability, social status. That constituted the new control chanism.
But regardless of the specific form, they all shared one fundantal commonality: they were tools designed to make useful beasts run in the desired direction.
This dramatically improved lifestyle—so vastly different from the absolute misery of Azkaban imprisonnt—represented the whip now strapped securely to these forr convict wizards.
On the eve of the new school term, another major event arrived on the calendar: the highly anticipated debut of both the Quidditch World Cup and the inaugural Wizarding Glory World Championship tournant.
Since its comrcial launch, Wizarding Glory had thoroughly captured the magical community’s attention worldwide, fundantally altering the entertainnt preferences of witches and wizards everywhere.
Quidditch certainly remained popular among traditionalists, but primarily because most wizards historically had access to very few alternative forms of entertainnt or recreation.
The arrival of Wizarding Glory had changed that landscape entirely.
The ga’s launcher device was now available throughout the global wizarding market. Even in the Eastern magical communities, after Old Tom successfully negotiated agreents with representatives from various cultivation sects, they created a culturally adapted launcher specifically for that market.
The localization was straightforward: they integrated combat techniques, magical creatures, and stylistic elents drawn directly from Eastern supernatural traditions.
Erwin had personally contacted the Kunlun Headmaster to facilitate the collaboration, and Old Tom had gathered vast archives of Eastern magical lore to incorporate authentically into the adapted ga.
Soon, practitioners from across the Eastern communities joined the player base, and the ga beca a genuine cultural phenonon there.
The product was rebranded as "Supernatural Glory" for that market to better reflect the local terminology.
Its explosive popularity severely impacted traditional Quidditch’s cultural dominance. While many wizards still genuinely enjoyed watching the sport, corporate sponsors were systematically withdrawing their financial support.
The Quidditch World Cup had already been planned extensively—venues selected and constructed, qualifying matches completed, teams prepared. But now the organizing committee found themselves in a serious financial crisis with the sudden sponsor exodus.
The desperate organizers eventually approached Erwin seeking ergency funding.
He agreed to sponsor the event fully—but with one non-negotiable condition: this would be recognized as the absolute final Quidditch World Cup in this traditional format. Beginning next year, it would be permanently replaced by the Wizarding Glory World Championship as the premier international magical sporting event.
Erwin had anticipated lengthy negotiations and resistance to such a dramatic condition, but the organizers agreed almost imdiately to his terms.
He was genuinely baffled by their ready capitulation, but he couldn’t really bla them for the pragmatic decision.
Truthfully, if they’d possessed any viable alternative funding source, they would have abandoned traditional Quidditch long ago themselves. The harsh reality was that wizarding tastes and preferences had fundantally shifted.
The previously impossible-to-obtain tickets for World Cup matches were now barely selling to capacity, sustained only by the most devoted traditionalist fans.
Regardless of the underlying economics, the event would proceed as planned.
Sowhat bored and seeking entertainnt, Erwin decided to attend. He knew from his taknowledge that there would be so interesting excitent today.
Inside his personal tent—vastly expanded internally through Undetectable Extension Charms—Erwin sat comfortably in a cushioned chair, casually sipping imported coffee.
Lucius Malfoy paced anxiously back and forth before him like a caged animal.
Erwin rubbed his forehead with mild irritation. "Uncle Lucius, if you continue wearing a path in my carpet with your pacing, I genuinely will throw you bodily out of this tent."
Lucius stopped moving imdiately. "Erwin, what exactly are you planning? The Dark Lord has returned to power! Soone contacted directly—we’ve been ordered to attack the spectator camp tonight after the match concludes!"
Erwin nodded with complete calm. "Then participate in the attack as ordered. It’s not particularly complicated. Are you worried about being identified and arrested? Ordinary Aurors cannot possibly capture you."
Lucius’s voice tightened with genuine concern. "Erwin, you understand perfectly well what I actually an. He’s returned to active leadership. What should I do? What’s my actual position now?"
Erwin set down his coffee cup with a soft clink. "Uncle Lucius, I’ve told you clearly: you’ll participate in the attack as ordered. Simply perform your role normally and convincingly. We’re allies in this particular ga. I absolutely will not permit you to be hard."
Lucius remained silent for a long mont, processing the reassurance. "...I understand."
He turned and departed the tent without further discussion.
Once Lucius had left, Erwin retrieved a letter from his desk drawer. A serpent was embossed prominently on the envelope’s wax seal. The first line of the ssage read: To my beloved disciple, Erwin Cavendish.
It was from Voldemort personally.
Who had physically written it for him given his current diminished state? Erwin didn’t know and didn’t particularly care. He only knew with certainty that his forr ntor was genuinely returning to power.
In the letter, Voldemort outlined his strategic plans for the evening’s demonstration and specifically urged Erwin to evacuate the area entirely before the Death Eaters attacked, avoiding any potential conflict with his followers.
Voldemort explained he hadn’t yet revealed Erwin’s identity and protected status to the broader Death Eater ranks, and this discretion was specifically intended to shield Erwin from complications.
Erwin felt genuinely moved by the consideration. What a remarkably thoughtful ntor! Such dedicated teachers were increasingly rare.
Yet a new complication had erged in his planning. This year’s overall plot trajectory had shifted drastically from the original tiline he rembered.
First, the traditional Triwizard Tournant had been restructured as a Four-School Tournant with the unexpected addition of Kunlun’s delegation from the East.
Second, and considerably more problematic from a practical standpoint: Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody wasn’t coming to Hogwarts this year as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
How would Barty Crouch Jr. successfully infiltrate the school now? How would he manage to place Harry Potter’s na in the Goblet of Fire to ensure the resurrection ritual could proceed?
It appeared Erwin would need to actively assist his forr teacher with certain logistics.
After all, who else would he reasonably help in this situation?
That evening, the World Cup match officially began.
Watching the competing teams soar through the air on their racing brooms, Erwin experienced a strange sense of déjà vu. Green jerseys versus scarlet red uniforms. The color sche felt remarkably familiar—like Gryffindor versus Slytherin house matches, except scaled up to international level.
He genuinely didn’t care about the match outco at all.
Erwin departed before the ga even concluded. As he’d stated plainly to others, he simply didn’t enjoy Quidditch as entertainnt. If not for the promised chaos scheduled for tonight, he wouldn’t have bothered attending at all.
Night fell completely across the campground. The revelry outside various team supporter camps continued unabated—a rare opportunity for such extensive wizarding celebration and social drinking.
After major matches, cheerful chaos invariably followed as a cultural tradition.
Inside the Cavendish family’s luxurious tent, Old Tom and Charlotte (who had returned from Germany just yesterday) sat alert near the entrance area.
Erwin reclined comfortably on an upholstered sofa, sipping fine red tea imported from Eastern cultivation communities.
Ti passed steadily.
Then—a deafening explosion shattered the peaceful night. Imdiately afterward, a cacophony of terrified shouts and screams erupted from multiple directions.
"Death Eater attack! Death Eaters are attacking the camp!"
"Everyone evacuate imdiately!"
"Protect the children!"
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