Erwin idly flipped through the stack of documents, his brow furrowing deeper with each page. The American wizarding world was a sprawling mess of families, far more chaotic than he'd imagined. It resembled a vast tree, with powerful clans at the roots claiming lesser branches as vassals.
Take the Demos family, perched at the apex. They commanded the Simpson family—one of the four lower houses—as loyal followers, along with several others beneath them. And those, in turn, lorded over even smaller lineages. It felt like a feudal pyramid: Demos as the unchallenged emperor, flanked by his inner circle, and cascading down to provincial lords.
In all, nearly fifty magical families dotted the landscape, though their strengths varied wildly. Only about a dozen matched the stature of Britain's pure-blood houses—and those were formidable. Unlike the fading aristocracy back home, America's magical society was young and vigorous, born from recent migrations. These families brimmed with ambition, unburdened by centuries of stagnation.
The Demos clan had arrived right as the American wizarding world took shape, seizing dominance in a single bold stroke. Erwin paused, impressed despite himself. The patriarch of that era must have been a visionary, gambling everything on a fledgling continent when safer paths beckoned elsewhere.
He set the file aside, leaning back with a pensive frown. If the reports held true, the Demos family would be a tough nut to crack. Cassandra had hinted at fractures in their seemingly ironclad rule—the Worre family, her own, had fled to England amid bitter feuds. But even as a powerhouse, the Worres couldn't strike back without repercussions, giving Demos pause only long enough for their escape.
Still, Demos controlled half the American magical apparatus, a web of influence Erwin couldn't dismantle alone. He wasn't one to pick needless fights, and toppling an entire nation's power structure? That was folly.
Tapping his fingers on the desk, Erwin reconsidered his approach for the impending trip. Storming their gates with Apparition—ready to defend or vanish—sounded thrilling but reckless. Better to probe cautiously, gather intel without tipping his hand. Closing his eyes, he scrapped the old plan and sketched a new one, running through scenarios and contingencies in his mind. An hour slipped by before he surfaced, satisfied with the revisions.
Just then, Old Tom knocked and entered. "Master Erwin."
Erwin nodded. "Everything set?"
"Yes, sir. The Worre patriarch wants a word—he's visited several times now."
Erwin raised an eyebrow doubtfully. "The patriarch himself? What's this about?"
Old Tom shrugged. "Likely they need your assistance. As for their move to England..." He paused, consulting his notes. "Public records paint the Worres as outcasts in America, mostly due to Demos suppression."
"Why target them?" Erwin pressed.
Tom leaned in, voice lowering. "I chatted with some American wizards. It ties back to an old legend—a true prophet in the Worre bloodline, with uncanny divination gifts. Many of his visions came to pass, and America's founding supposedly owes them a debt."
Erwin's interest sharpened. "Go on."
"Speculation points to the golden era of the Eight Great Families," Tom continued. "The Worres might hold prophecies about them—valuable secrets Demos covets. That's the feud's heart."
Erwin leaned back, piecing it together. Cassandra had alluded to this during the Slytherin Order of Glory ceremony, but he'd dismissed divination as unreliable fluff. It demanded rare talent and lineage, after all. At Hogwarts, Sybill Trelawney—the eccentric professor behind the savior prophecy—exemplified that. Unreliable on the surface, yet her great-great-grandmother, Cassandra Trelawney, was a legend.
That Cassandra (unrelated to the Slytherin girl, despite the shared name—doubles were common enough) had foreseen Grindelwald's followers and Voldemort's Death Eaters with eerie precision. Dismissed at first, her words proved prophetic, elevating the Trelawney name. Sybill alone inherited the gift, her oddities masking real insight—though her misfortune explained why Erwin got on with every professor except her.
A genuine seer in the Worre line changed things. No wonder Demos hunted them. Prophecies about the Eight Great Families could upend power balances, especially if they foretold America's rise—or fall. The Worres' exodus suddenly made perfect sense: survival over subjugation.
...
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