"I'm just a first-year at Hogwarts, a kid in over his head. What choice did I have? I turned to my brother Rivers—the man who raised me, saved my life, one of the cornerstones of the Selwyn family—for help. I begged the Yaxleys to show mercy, to let us walk away. I pleaded for the wizarding world to keep access to affordable magical supplies. I wanted wizards to hold onto their wands, not snap them in desperation just to scrape together a meal. Was I truly in the wrong?"
Tears glistened in the eyes of the surrounding wizards. They were everyday folk, all too familiar with the grind of wizarding life. Unlike the sprawling Muggle world, theirs was a cramped corner of existence—scarce jobs, endless hardship, and the harsh edge of human indifference. They'd seen too many snap their wands, banished to a Muggle existence for want of a Galleon.
Erwin's words struck a chord, echoing their own struggles.
Then a voice rang out: "Erwin, you weren't wrong! It's those blasted pure-blood families at fault!"
The shout lit the fuse. The crowd erupted, roaring like a storm: "Down with the pure-bloods! Damn them all!"
"That's the spirit! We stand with you, Erwin! With the Selwyn family!"
Erwin raised a hand, and the din faded to silence. Snape watched from the shadows, his gaze sharp—Erwin kept delivering shocks.
"I've heard it said: where there's oppression, there's rebellion," Erwin pressed on. "Who chains us common wizards? The Ministry? Muggles? No. It's families like the Yaxleys. They peddle goods worth one Galleon for ten, lining their vaults while we starve. They'll never grasp what those nine extra Galleons mean to a wizard on the brink—weeks of bread, maybe months.
"They sit lofty and indifferent, blind to suffering. All that matters is their gold piling higher. Do you want to live under their boot, exploited and crushed?"
"No!" the crowd thundered. "No!"
The echoes rolled through Diagon Alley like thunder.
Inside the shuttered Yaxley shop, family members huddled, faces ashen.
"Have you called for backup? This is turning into a riot!"
"Five owls sent—no reply yet!"
"Curse that Cavendish!"
Erwin's voice rose again. "Now the Yaxleys declare pure-blood war on us. The Selwyns are Muggle-born at heart, as you know. But we're not backing down. We'll fight—for justice, for every wizard they've ground underfoot, for Rivers's memory. This is vengeance, this is righteousness. Today, even if the Selwyn blood runs dry, even if we're wiped out, I, Erwin Cavendish, have no regrets!"
"I'll spill our blood to prove it: the tyrants' reign ends here. This era is ours—every wizard's, justice's. I stand with every Selwyn, ready to fall. If we perish, let it etch an eternal stand against oppression into history!"
"As Selwyn patriarch, I command: many of us may die today. If I fall, drape my body in the family banner. I seek no undying fame—only that wizards remember Erwin Cavendish resisted the chains!"
The crowd stared, eyes blazing. A rogue wizard—a drifter with no house or allegiance—stepped forward.
"Mr. Cavendish, I want to join the Selwyn family. Will you have me?"
His words cracked open a path. Rogues couldn't meddle in pure-blood feuds, but pledging to the Selwyns? That changed everything.
A dozen more followed, echoing his plea.
Erwin shook his head. "No, friends. The Selwyns face ruin—I can't drag you into the fire. In peacetime, we'd welcome you with open arms. But not now. Your support alone bolsters us enough."
The first rogue insisted, "No, sir—I stand firm. I'll join and face the storm with you. Death's no stranger; I'm not afraid."
He dropped to one knee, head bowed, unyielding.
Others joined, kneeling in solidarity. "Accept us, Mr. Cavendish! We'll fight and die for the Selwyns!"
Erwin's expression twisted in conflict—twenty rogues now, eyes locked on him.
Old Tom leaned in. "Master, take them. They crave the fight against tyranny as much as we do."
Erwin sighed. "All right. Since you insist, by the Selwyn name, I accept you as family. From this moment, we share glory and ruin alike!"
Cheers erupted as the rogues rose, grins breaking through the tension.
Erwin caught Old Tom's eye, a faint smile tugging at his lips. The butler nodded and stepped back.
Then, swirling Apparition points bloomed in the air. Figures materialized: the Selwyns.
The old patriarch dropped to one knee before Erwin. "Master, forgive our delay!"
Confusion furrowed Erwin's brow. "Why risk it? Vassals can't interfere in pure-blood wars!"
"Not so," the patriarch replied. "As Selwyn vassals, we're bound—we can stand with you. The Selwyns fight as one!"
Erwin blinked—this loophole was new. Behind the old man stood thirty core members, wands at the ready.
With over fifty at his side now, a bolder plan crystallized. What he'd paced out over a month could accelerate—perhaps end the Yaxleys tonight.
...
...
Bonus chapter progress:
Power Stones: [11]/100
5 Star Reviews: [6]/10
Every stone gets us closer.