But both Voldemort and Erwin knew the truth.
This battle was decided from the very beginning.
Erwin was guaranteed the victory.
Voldemort's magic was severely depleted, while Erwin still had plenty of magical energy.
Furthermore, Voldemort knew precisely that Erwin held a trump card.
He understood Erwin well, especially after his resurrection.
With ample time on his hands, Voldemort had done nothing but study his new master.
Even his integration into the Cavendish family had been motivated by a desire to understand Erwin!
Placing himself in Erwin's shoes, Voldemort didn't believe for a second that Erwin would reveal all his cards.
Erwin looked at Voldemort, who was leaning against a tree for support.
He reached into his enchanted satchel and produced a small vial.
"Here, Master. Drink this."
Voldemort took it, curious. "What is it?"
Erwin remained silent.
Voldemort didn't press the issue; he asked casually, but he didn't wait for a reply before downing the potion in one gulp.
The next moment, Voldemort's magical reserves began to recover rapidly. Within seconds, his power was fully restored.
He was about to marvel at the potion's efficacy when he felt something strange.
His magical energy didn't stop climbing.
Voldemort's expression shifted drastically. He hurriedly focused, circulating the magic within him.
About half an hour later, Voldemort slowly opened his eyes, filled with disbelief.
"This... is this a magic-boosting potion?"
"It is," Erwin said. "But it's incomplete. It's missing a crucial ingredient. However, I will obtain it soon. The current effect isn't final. Once the complete version is synthesized, I will give you a bottle. According to my godfather's research, the full formula should compensate for the current limitations."
Voldemort felt a surge of awe. "I feel my magic power has increased by twenty percent! That is... unprecedented. How powerful would the complete version be?"
"Based on our calculations," Erwin replied, "it should amplify the magic of someone of your caliber by roughly fifty percent."
Don't underestimate that twenty percent.
This was Voldemort's twenty percent.
For wizards like Grindelwald, Dumbledore, or Erwin, that translates to a ten percent increase in raw power.
For strong wizards, it would be forty percent.
For an ordinary Auror, it would be a complete doubling of power.
And this was still the incomplete version.
When Erwin first learned of the potion's effects, even he had been shocked.
Unfortunately, mass production was currently impossible. Even Erwin's automated production lines required raw materials, and many of those were incredibly difficult to source.
However, Erwin already had leads. He would soon have a full supply ready.
Voldemort was astonished.
"I didn't expect you to have something like this. I presume it is preparation for your grand plan?"
Erwin remained silent for a moment.
Voldemort chuckled. "What's wrong? Surprised I know? I don't know the specifics, but don't forget—I am the Dark Lord. I have a keen sense for these things. I have studied everything you've done since entering the wizarding world."
He paced slowly. "I've noticed your pace is accelerating. When you first entered Hogwarts, you controlled the tempo well, gradually building influence. According to your original plan, once the world was fully under your control, there would be no opposition, because ordinary wizards wouldn't even realize what was happening."
Voldemort stopped, his gaze piercing. "But starting in your second year, your steps became more aggressive. Ambitious, even. At first, I thought it was arrogance brought on by rapid power growth. But after studying your actions, I realized you seem worried. You are preparing for something."
He gestured to the forest around them. "You began to use direct force to consolidate the magical world, leading to resistance. Given your usual approach, you should have suppressed those voices gradually. But you didn't. You crushed them with ruthless efficiency. I realized then—you were in a hurry."
Voldemort turned to him. "So, Erwin, what exactly are you in such a hurry for?"
Erwin didn't answer.
Voldemort sighed. "Fine, I won't force you. But tell me—how much time do you have left to reach your goal?"
Erwin spoke softly. "Normally, three years. But after today, only one year remains."
Voldemort frowned. "After today? You mean this third competition you're holding here?"
Erwin nodded. "Yes. I don't want to drag this out any longer. Two more years won't improve my chances of winning. On the contrary, if my plan proceeds smoothly now, my odds remain high."
Voldemort let out a short laugh. "Ambitious. You even managed to research magic-enhancing potions."
Erwin smiled. "Teacher, let me remove the Dark Mark for you first. Then, I have a request."
Voldemort waved a hand dismissively. "No need. I rather like this mark. Besides, we agreed upon this outcome, didn't we? From today on, the Death Eaters are yours. However, I suggest you brand them with your own mark for easier management. They were quite unruly when they followed me."
Erwin smiled.
So, Voldemort knew that, too.
Surely enough, once Voldemort regained his composure, he reverted to the charismatic Tom Riddle he once was.
Voldemort looked toward the horizon. "Alright, let's go. The Death Eaters should be arriving soon. However, you will need to figure out a way to get them through customs. I think, given your personality, you've already arranged something for them."
Erwin chuckled. "Yes. I need them to do some things for me. They are the most suitable people for the task."
Voldemort grinned. "You clever boy. From the very beginning, you knew you would win, didn't you?"
Erwin shrugged.
Indeed, he had never considered the possibility of losing.
After all, if he simply waited patiently, he could easily win through attrition.