Erwin had two main reasons for wiping out the Yaxley family. First, to cement his authority and showcase the Cavendish family's unyielding resolve. Second, to use their downfall as a bold declaration of the family's return to the wizarding world. With the Yaxleys gone, he could now unveil several long-held plans—like his enchanted communicator venture.
Old Tom was in the loop on all this, so Erwin handed the reins over to him without hesitation. Though a nagging doubt lingered, Erwin trusted Tom implicitly. The old butler had pulled him through countless close calls over the years. Everyone gathered at the Cavendish manor was handpicked—loyal to the core, the sort he'd stake his life on.
After issuing his orders, Erwin exchanged a nod with old Selwyn and Apparated straight back to Hogwarts. Exhaustion hit him like a Bludger. His magic reserves were depleted, and he'd shattered those wards twice with his own power. Even for a prodigy like him, a teenager's body had limits.
Meanwhile, Old Tom rallied the wandering wizards and the Selwyn family, heading back to Diagon Alley. Cleanup and next steps awaited.
Moments after their departure, high above the smoldering ruins of Yaxley Manor, a black-robed figure hurtled into view. Surveying the wreckage below, his face twisted in fury. "Too late! Bloody hell, that spineless Yaxley couldn't last an hour. Useless fool!"
A crackle split the air. A lightning bolt lanced from the void, aimed straight at him. The intruder whipped out his wand, conjuring a shimmering shield just in time. The bolt slammed into it, shattering the barrier in a shower of sparks.
"Impossible!" the man snarled.
A swirl of Apparition mist formed nearby, and Rivers Stewart stepped out, wand at the ready. A feral grin spread across his face. "At last. I knew you lot wouldn't stay put. Scum like you never learn."
The black-robed wizard eyed him warily, recognition dawning. His eyes bulged. "Rivers Stewart? No— you're dead! I watched you fall!"
Rivers' grin widened into something predatory. "I was supposed to be. But the Master sees things you blind idiots never will. He unlocked the secrets of Ancient Magic for us ages ago, blending it seamlessly with wandwork. He shipped me out back then just to hunt down pests like you."
The intruder's voice cracked with disbelief. "So those intruders flooding Britain—they were your work? Not Hogwarts' doing?"
"Spot on," Rivers replied coolly. "The Master declared England off-limits to your kind. You kept poking the Cavendish family, testing boundaries. Now scram—before I make you."
He flicked his wand. Another lightning bolt hurtled forth.
The black-robed man sneered. "I'll report this to my lord. Every last one of you survivors will pay—starting with you!"
He countered with his own bolt, the spells colliding in a blinding flash that snuffed them both out. But Rivers was already gone, vanishing in a blink. A heartbeat later, a jet of green light—Avada Kedavra—erupted from behind.
It struck true, too swift and sly for a dodge. The man tumbled from the sky, crashing lifeless to the earth below, his final breath stolen.
Rivers landed lightly, sneering at the corpse. "Pathetic. The Master's always said it: Ancient Magic, modern spells—they all have strengths. We take the best of both to evolve. Cling to the old ways, and you're dust."
With a casual wave, he ignited the body in roaring flames, reducing it to ash in seconds. Satisfied no traces remained, Rivers Disapparated, the ruins falling silent once more.
Time blurred in the quiet aftermath. Then, another swirl of Apparition brought Rivers back. He scanned the debris, brow creasing. "Hallucination?"
He vanished again, only to reappear minutes later, repeating the sweep. Nothing. "Gone already? Theresa family, was it?" He scoffed and Apparated away for good.
Once he was truly gone, two figures materialized amid the ashes. They shared a tense glance.
"Luckily you thought quick," one murmured. "Didn't peg Rivers for that sharp."
"The Cavendishes never produce fools," the other replied grimly. "We've paid dearly for underestimating them."
"What's our move? That false trail in Germany? Tom's no slouch—he'll sniff out the ploy soon enough and piece together our game."
"This lot's generation is a nightmare. That boy—his raw power, his guile—eclipses anything we've seen from past Cavendishes. If he grows unchecked, the Theresa family is finished."
"The elders?"
"Those cowards are hunkered down, too scared to surface. But we both know hiding buys nothing. The Cavendishes won't stop. One path left."
"You mean...?"
"Send her to Hogwarts. She's Theresa blood, but she's my daughter too. Give her an out. Worst case, if they extract her lineage, it might spare her life."
The second man paused, then nodded. "Fine. But breaching Hogwarts?"
"I'll manage. First, we keep the elders in the dark. Move!"
The pair vanished into the night, leaving only whispers in the wind.
...
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