"However, this seal on you is fascinating. The one who placed it was ruthless—they've completely locked away your bloodline power. Even if you have children someday, no one will inherit it. In essence, they've demoted the top four families to just three. The Draconic bloodline will vanish entirely with your death!"
"The other families must have figured this out too, which is why they won't move against you until they find a workaround. Missing even a sliver of the Draconic line would render all their scheming pointless—the bloodline could never be fully restored!"
Erwin nodded. This was the safeguard his parents had woven for him.
Better a swift end than a lingering disgrace. If those families struck at him, the Draconic bloodline would shatter irreparably on the day he fell.
That left them in a bind. They craved his demise but couldn't risk it—not yet. For now, they had to shield him, at least until they cracked the puzzle.
He thought back to the assault on Hogwarts. The attackers had aimed to kidnap him, not kill outright. Was this their parting gift?
Ravenclaw continued, "I must admit, whoever crafted this seal was brilliant. They've essentially conscripted your rivals as unwilling guardians! But there's a chink in the armor: it's impervious from the outside, yet vulnerable within. Your own magic has pried open a tiny rift, and now the seal is fraying. At this rate, it'll dissolve in under two years. The caster should have anticipated that risk."
Erwin absorbed her words, a realization dawning.
If she was right, his parents had designed this as a failsafe. From what Snape had shared, they never meant for him to plunge into the wizarding world at all.
So long as he stayed clear of magic, the seal held firm. Their final instructions echoed in his mind: live quietly, safeguard the legacy, steer clear of peril. They'd envisioned him claiming the family estate, basking in comfort, and fading into obscurity.
But Erwin couldn't let their murders go unsolved. He'd seized control of the estate amid the turmoil, triggering a magical surge that cracked the seal and unleashed his latent power.
Two details nagged at him. First, those early outbursts during crises—he'd chalked them up to some innate gift, but that didn't add up now.
Second, his acceptance letter. Snape had confirmed Hogwarts compiled its roster automatically, drawing from every child with magical potential. Invitations followed swiftly.
Yet Erwin's name hadn't appeared until the end, after most letters were dispatched. That's why Dumbledore fetched him personally—no other professors were free.
His enrollment felt engineered. By whom? And why? It hadn't led to harm, at least. Post-seal, he needed to grow stronger against looming threats, and Hogwarts was the ideal forge.
Still, the puppet strings chafed. Especially with the puppeteer unknown.
Dumbledore? Erwin knew the Headmaster held Gryffindor's heirloom, granting sway over school affairs, including admissions.
If it was him, what drove the old man? Protection? Or did he see Erwin as a tool—perhaps Harry's shield?
No answers surfaced. His temples throbbed. Shaking it off, Erwin conceded defeat. Probing Dumbledore directly would yield only twinkling evasions. And Snape? If he knew, he'd have spilled it already.
Turning to Ravenclaw, he asked, "Your Majesty, you mentioned the seal will fade naturally. Do I need to trigger the bloodline activation myself?"
She shook her head. "Not necessary in your case, Erwin. Your Draconic power is potent, but most lines dilute over generations, their potency fading like echoes. Yours, though? It's as if Merlin himself forged it—pure and unmixed, echoing your ancestors' prime. The instant the seal shatters fully, it'll ignite on its own."
"Will my growing strength hasten the process? I know I'm not ready for the threats ahead. Time is my ally here."
Admiration flickered in her eyes. "I figured you'd rush to shatter it and charge into the fray."
Erwin smiled wryly. "I know my limits, Your Majesty. This seal buys me breathing room. I'm no fool."
She chuckled. "Rest easy—it won't accelerate or stall based on your power. A year, perhaps two, and it'll vanish of its own accord. You've got that long, at minimum."
Relief washed over him. A year would suffice. With deliberate steps, he could lay the groundwork for defenses. He might not topple his foes yet, but he'd stand a fighting chance.
Ravenclaw straightened. "That's all I can share. Now that you've claimed Slytherin's legacy, a tip: save your next escapade for after midnight. The rewards will be... unique. I'm off to rest. Until tonight, young one."