Erwin descended the stairs, stepping onto German soil for the first time. A middle-aged man in a sharp black suit emerged from a waiting car.
"Erwin Cavendish, Count Cavendish, correct?"
Erwin nodded.
The man approached swiftly, extending his hand. "Welcome to Berlin, Count Cavendish."
Erwin shook it firmly. "Thank you. I'm here on holiday. I've always admired Berlin. Truth be told, one of my idols was a great German figure—it's a shame he's gone."
The man's enthusiasm visibly warmed at that. "A real pity. Please, hop in. I'll drive you to your hotel, and tomorrow I can arrange a guide."
Erwin shook his head. "No need for that. But if you could swing some perks—a driver, say, and access to non-sensitive spots—I'd appreciate it. I want to enjoy myself properly."
"Of course," the man said with a nod. "The car's yours, along with the driver. It has clearance for everywhere except official buildings."
Erwin smiled his thanks, and they were off. The drive from the airport led straight to the finest hotel in Berlin, where the staff wasted no time booking him a lavish suite.
Erwin's foresight had paid off again. He knew exactly how far a noble title could stretch.
After politely declining the man's dinner invitation, Erwin dismissed the driver until morning and entered his suite. He propped the door open with a wedge and settled onto the sofa, waiting in silence.
As expected, visitors arrived promptly.
Ten minutes later, two middle-aged men appeared at the threshold. They paused at the open door, exchanging a wary glance before knocking politely.
"Come in," Erwin called. "And shut the door behind you."
They entered the living room, where Erwin lounged on the sofa, one hand idly twirling his wand.
Their faces tightened at the sight.
With a casual flick, the wand leaped into his grip. Erwin smirked. "What? Planning to jump me?"
One of them raised his hands placatingly. "No, Lord Cavendish. It's just... your stance is a touch alarming."
Erwin eyed the wand before tucking it away. "I've made enemies in the wizarding world. Can't be too careful who knocks—friend or foe. So, gentlemen, who are you?"
The speaker cleared his throat. "I'm Thorfinn Rowle, with the Auror Division of the German Ministry of Magic."
Erwin arched an eyebrow. "An Auror? What, have I broken some international statute? First wizard at my door is law enforcement?"
Rowle shook his head. "Please don't take it the wrong way, Lord Cavendish. Your standing in the magical community is... significant. We're just here to play it safe—standard protocol for high-profile visitors."
Erwin leaned back. "Fair enough. My paperwork's all in order, though. So, what's the real purpose? If you're fishing for my travel plans, I'm here to sightsee."
Rowle kept his tone deferential, but his companion bristled. "Deputy Director, you're far too soft. Years in the office have dulled your edge. Cavendish, state your business clearly, or I'll haul you in for questioning."
The words had scarcely left his mouth when a silent force hurled him backward, slamming him into the wall. He slumped, dazed but breathing.
Rowle didn't flinch, making no move to intervene.
Erwin tilted his head. "Are all German Aurors this daft?"
"Not at all," Rowle replied evenly. "Just a few bad apples. You might not know this, but our Auror Office Director is a hothead himself. This one's his brother—runs in the family, apparently."
A sharp glint crossed Erwin's eyes. "I get it. Internal rivalries run deep, don't they?"
"My apologies for the display," Rowle said. "I hope a fool's bluster won't sour your visit."
He watched Erwin closely, a flicker of unease in his gaze. He hadn't even caught the spell—silent, seamless. The tales from the British Ministry held water: Erwin Cavendish, head of the Cavendish family, was a force to reckon with. No wonder he'd shaken up wizarding Britain.
Erwin waved it off. "No offense taken. I can see you're the sharp one, Mr. Rowle. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here trying to leverage me against that Auror Director you've never liked, would you?"
Rowle's composure cracked for a split second, surprise flashing across his face. Erwin was sharper than his youth suggested. But he recovered quickly, forcing a smile. "I should've known better than to try pulling one over on you."
"Actually," Erwin said, his tone light but edged, "there's a cleaner play. Let that idiot 'meet with an accident' on the way back to the Ministry. Pin it on me—say I did it. That puts me at loggerheads with his brother the Director, we clash spectacularly, and you swoop in to clean up the pieces. Sound like a plan?"
Rowle shot to his feet, staring at Erwin in stunned fury. "You... you used Legilimency on me?"
Erwin laughed softly. "What, you think I'd need to probe your mind to spot the obvious? Have a bit more faith in yourself, Mr. Rowle. You look rattled—worried I'll actually go through with it? If you're scheming that far ahead, I'm in deeper trouble than I thought. Imagine this: I shield that snoring fool from whatever 'fate' you've got planned for him, then tip off your Auror Patriarch to come collect his brother. Oh, and along the way, I mention your little plot. Wouldn't that be a show?"
Rowle's expression hardened, a chill settling over the room. For the first time, real temptation flickered—to strike first, end this before it spiraled.
Erwin met his gaze steadily, unflinching. The air thickened with unspoken threats, the suite suddenly feeling far smaller than before.
...
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