The woman sighed. "Use my private line."
Her secretary nodded and handed her the phone. She dialed promptly.
At Cavendish Manor, Old Tom glanced at the device. "Master Erwin, it's her private call. Shall I answer?"
Erwin dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Pick it up. It's time to wrap this up."
Tom placed the phone beside him. Erwin answered with a casual ease.
A mature female voice crackled through, laced with weariness. "Erwin, you finally picked up."
Erwin chuckled lightly. "Madam, it's been too long. Apologies – I've been recovering and must have missed your earlier call. My staff only mentioned it after I woke. I've given them an earful for the oversight."
She brushed aside the transparent excuse. "Erwin," she said flatly, "I had no part in this."
He lifted his cup of black tea and took a measured sip. "I never thought you did. It would take a fool to break an agreement like that on a whim."
"Name your terms, Erwin. We need this settled."
"Simple enough," he replied. "Hand over the culprit first. And fulfill what I asked for before."
"The first is doable – I'll track them down and deliver them to you. But the second? No. You know the Duke doesn't dole out fiefdoms lightly. It stirs up endless complications."
Erwin's tone sharpened. "Haven't you realized how this stands, Madam?"
Her voice turned icy. "Earl, if you agree, pull your people back. We end it here. Refuse, and the Cavendish name won't withstand a fight with the crown. Tricks like yours work once or twice, but they lose their edge fast."
Erwin paused, considering. "London will quiet down within the hour. The authorities can handle the cleanup. I'll have my side soothe the Muggles. Consider it done."
He ended the call without ceremony.
No anger stirred in him. He set the phone aside, content. An earldom was more than he'd bargained for – he'd aimed for baron or viscount at best. Duke, marquis, earl, viscount, baron. Smack in the middle.
The title's appeal was straightforward: certain ventures demanded rank, and this one delivered prestige in spades.
Erwin turned to Tom. "Get moving. Take that mutt's head and bring our lads home."
Tom nodded and slipped away to relay the orders.
Less than thirty minutes later, it was over. The interloping family – the ones eyeing their turf – had been erased from London, the city they'd coveted for so long. The Cavendish claws were out again, sharp and unyielding.
Dark families across the wizarding world watched London with bated breath. News hit like a curse; those itching for a fight went suddenly mute. Terrifying. The Cavendish might in under a day – dismantling an ancient house on two fronts, reducing it to whispers in history books. How could it not chill the blood?
They'd struck swift and vanished just as quick. Losses mounted on the Cavendish side too, but Erwin covered them with generous payouts. Pocket change, really, against the spoils they'd claimed. As the old saying went, war fattened the victor's coffers – true in any realm.
Time flew. Half a month blurred by.
In those weeks, the Cavendishes reshaped London's underbelly, cementing their grip. Erwin's new earldom came straight from the crown, with Cavendish Manor and swathes of land sealed as family holdings.
Now, Erwin had work ahead.
Dawn broke. He dressed sharply, ran a comb through his hair, and set off for Diagon Alley. Today marked the grand launch of Cavendish Communications.
After weeks of hype, the enchanted communicators hit the market.
Old Tom stood ready. "Master, invitations are out. Word from our Diagon Alley contacts: the place is mobbed. Barely room to breathe – half the wizarding world turned up."
Erwin grinned. "All that buildup pays off. Today, we flood the market."
Tom inclined his head.
At the manor's threshold, Tom clasped Erwin's wrist. A swirl of Apparition engulfed them.
They materialized inside the Cavendish Communications tower in Diagon Alley.
The structure gleamed, reborn from seven merged shops – including the old Cavendish Magical Supplies. Five stories tall, it dwarfed its neighbors.
Ground floor: the communicator showroom, buzzing with polished displays.
Second: top-up and service counters for magical credits.
Third: expanded magical sundries, from quills to potion kits.
Fourth: a sleek apothecary for brews and elixirs.
Top: a bustling café, doubling as staff canteen and public eatery – the tallest vantage in the Alley.
Erwin's vision stretched further: wands, robes, books, all funneling in eventually. Diagon Alley reborn as Cavendish Way. But that was years off. For now, caution ruled. No need to ruffle every feather at once – a lone oak drew the storm.
Crowds already thronged the entrance. Hermione, Harry Potter, and their circle wove through, wide-eyed.
Harry's presence? Pure Erwin orchestration. He wasn't the heroic sort, but promises held weight. He'd assured Dumbledore of a smoother summer for the boy...
So, he'd dispatched a team to the Dursleys. Five hulking wizards, armed with Muggle-repelling charms and a no-nonsense vibe, had parked themselves there. Rivers reported back: all sorted. Erwin could picture Harry's relief.
Case in point: today. Harry had strolled into the Leaky Cauldron with his aunt and uncle – and scored the master suite. No more cupboard under the stairs. Gratitude burned in the boy's eyes toward Erwin, fierce and unspoken.
As the doors swung open, the crowd surged. Whispers rippled: "Cavendish's got something big." Harry clutched his invite, heart pounding. This holiday – courtesy of a near-stranger – felt like freedom at last.
...
WANT 15 BONUS CHAPTERS?
Enjoy the read, and let's get started on the next goal immediately!
Power Stones: [47]/200
5 Star Reviews: [7]/10
— MrGrim