Fudge turned toward Erwin, the initial scorn in his eyes replaced by raw terror. He was visibly shaken.
Snape and Professor McGonagall exchanged puzzled glances, wondering what could have rattled the Minister so badly.
Erwin maintained a faint, sunny smile. To Fudge, though, it looked like the grin of a devil—utterly chilling.
"Minister Fudge," Erwin said calmly, "during a pure-blood family feud, no outsiders can interfere, can they?"
Fudge swallowed hard. Staring into Erwin's eyes felt like facing a feral magical beast. One wrong word, and he'd be torn apart.
"Yes," Fudge replied quickly, nodding.
Erwin pressed on. "Patriarch Yaxley just declared a pure-blood war against the Selwyn family last weekend. So everything I've done should be perfectly legal, right?"
Fudge hesitated. "Even so, you—"
Erwin's smile vanished. "Minister, I expect fairness. The pure-blood war rules allow any means necessary. I haven't broken a single one, and I hope you'll judge impartially."
Fudge paused, then nodded. "Understood."
Erwin's expression softened with satisfaction. "Then, Minister, I trust the Ministry won't try to silence tomorrow's Daily Prophet. The wizarding world deserves the truth, wouldn't you say?"
Fudge agreed hastily. "Of course. With that settled, I'll take my leave."
He bid a curt goodbye to McGonagall and Snape, then ordered his Aurors to haul away the Yaxley patriarch without delay. Fudge bolted from the room as if a monster nipped at his heels.
McGonagall and Snape turned to Erwin in stunned silence.
"What on earth did you do to him?" McGonagall asked.
Erwin shrugged innocently. "Nothing drastic, Professor. I just showed a glimpse of our strength. Back in the Muggle world, I had to do whatever it took to survive—built up some resources. The Yaxleys pushed too far; I had to push back."
McGonagall sighed, studying him. "You're on your own now, Erwin. Pure-blood feuds aren't child's play. The Yaxleys have deep roots—we can't intervene. But if things go south, stay at Hogwarts. You're safe here."
The pure-blood wars were ancient pacts, forged when the Ministry was born. Families policed themselves, bound by their codes, and the Ministry honored those traditions in return.
Snape and Erwin left McGonagall's office together, heading straight to Snape's without a detour for class. Erwin knew questions were coming.
Sure enough, the moment the door clicked shut, Snape whirled on him. "What are you really up to, Erwin? Stirring a full-blown pure-blood war?"
Erwin didn't dodge the truth. "Exactly, Godfather. From the start, I never aimed to topple the Yaxleys on a single murder charge. It's impossible—a family like theirs, with centuries of prestige, won't crumble over killing a Muggle. No, my plan was always to ignite a pure-blood war."
Snape's brow furrowed. "If you orchestrated this, it'll be seen as legitimate, even if you fired the first shot."
Erwin shook his head. "That's the point—it's not the same. The Selwyns can't start one. These families are a tangled web of marriages, all to keep the blood pure. They bicker, sure, but blood ties hold them back. If the Selwyns barge in as aggressors, we'll look like the villains, the outsiders disrupting the balance. We'd win against the Yaxleys, maybe, but the rest would band against us eventually. We'd be isolated."
Snape mulled it over, then conceded with a nod. Pure-blood alliances were a delicate equilibrium of power, wealth, and shared history. An interloper using one family as a foothold would spook the lot.
"The message Yaxley saw," Snape said. "Was that your doing? An attack on their manor?"
Erwin confirmed it. "Yes. I sent Selwyn operatives to hit Yaxley Manor with Muggle firearms."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "From his reaction, it must have been devastating."
Erwin gave a casual shrug. "You saw the footage, Godfather. Muggle tech packs a punch, and we've got heavier artillery—stockpiles of it."
"But won't that scare the other families?" Snape countered. "If you can strike the Yaxleys, what's stopping you from turning on them?"
"Simple logic, Godfather." Erwin leaned forward. "The Yaxleys murdered our people first. Tomorrow's Prophet will lay it all out: the Hogwarts incident, their war declaration. We'll frame our strike as desperate revenge—a hard-fought win to honor the dead. Every family will see we have teeth, but not endless ones. This was a one-off, forced by circumstance. The Selwyns crave peace; we just want our place at the table, no conquests. To drive it home, the Selwyns, Malfoys, and Parkinsons will publicly condemn the Yaxleys. It'll show we're not out for blood—we're the victims fighting back."
Snape paced, absorbing it. Erwin's scheme was a tightrope walk: project strength without inviting all-out paranoia. By allying with other houses in condemnation, the Selwyns positioned themselves as reluctant defenders, not conquerors. The war would rage, but on terms that preserved the fragile peace among the survivors.
Erwin watched his godfather, a quiet confidence in his eyes. The board was set, and he'd played his pieces masterfully. The Yaxleys had drawn first blood; now the wizarding world would see the Selwyns bleed for justice.
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