Hogwarts' White Lord

"The spell… turned?"

Dawlish stood frozen, unable to process how Ivan's spell had bypassed the Armor Charm entirely.

"Don't use your rigid thinking to define my magic," Ivan replied calmly.

After striking Scrimgeour, Ivan made no move to follow up on his attack. Instead, he turned his attention to Moody and Kingsley, easily fending off their spells.

Kingsley's Time-Freezing Spell was particularly intriguing, and Ivan had to devote a bit more focus to blocking it.

"Magic isn't a fixed procedure," Ivan said, his tone almost conversational as he fought.

"Magic is the power of the mind. As long as our will is strong and resolute enough, we don't have to be constrained by the limitations of traditional spells."

He demonstrated his point with a flourish of his Sycamore wand, unleashing two beams of magical light that shot from its tip.

One beam hurtled toward Moody, the other toward Kingsley, both moving at incredible speed.

If this weren't Gringotts, the two could have used Apparition to evade.

But with anti-Apparition spells in effect, Kingsley was forced to dive to the side, narrowly dodging Ivan's attack.

As for Moody, his wooden leg made quick movements impossible.

Thinking fast, Moody cast Transfiguration, conjuring a metal wall in front of him as a makeshift shield.

Crack!

"This power…"

Moody felt the force of Ivan's magic firsthand. Finally, he understood the overwhelming pressure the hired wizards had been under earlier.

There was no stopping this.

Ivan's spells were simply too powerful, and attempting to block them head-on was nothing short of suicidal for an ordinary wizard.

The metal wall shattered under the impact, and Moody was sent flying backward.

On the other side, Kingsley had just regained his footing.

But before he could launch an attack, the magic beam that had initially missed him suddenly arced through the air, tracing a beautiful trajectory like a meteor, and turned back toward him.

"What?"

It was already astonishing enough that the spell had bypassed an Armor Charm, but what was happening now completely shattered the already fragile perceptions of those watching.

The spell wasn't just bypassing obstacles; it was turning, tracking, and even adjusting its speed—slowing down, speeding up, and seemingly stopping at will.

It was as if the magic had a mind of its own.

The scene left the Aurors stunned and speechless.

"Do you know?..." Ivan said, flicking his wand and sending out several more beams of tracking magic.

They weren't powerful offensive spells—just simple Stunning Spells.

Sitting casually on a nearby stone, Ivan dusted himself off, watching as Moody and Kingsley struggled to dodge the relentless pursuit of the enchanted spells that seemed to have their own intelligence.

"...I was looking forward to this," Ivan said, his voice calm but tinged with disappointment.

"I was hoping for a real fight against strong opponents."

He sighed.

"Unfortunately, you've let me down."

Ivan shifted his gaze to Dawlish, who was trembling and clutching the two toads that had once been Fudge and Umbridge.

"Don't worry," Ivan said with a faint smirk. "I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about the two things you're holding."

He gestured toward the toads.

"Here's some advice—get that kind of garbage out of the Ministry of Magic as soon as possible. Letting someone like that hold a high-ranking position is nothing short of a disgrace to Britain."

As Ivan finished speaking, a sudden "bang" rang out.

Without looking, he raised his hand, and an invisible barrier materialized, blocking an incoming spell from behind.

Boom!

Ivan turned his head, his expression unreadable, to find Scrimgeour standing there.

"Impressive," Ivan remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "You're in better shape than I thought. Still able to stand, even after taking a hit from my Disarming Spell."

"I am the director of the Auror Office!"

Scrimgeour declared, panting heavily but standing his ground. His determination was evident—he would not yield to Ivan.

"Willpower, huh?"

Ivan noticed Scrimgeour's injuries. It was clear that the man was relying solely on sheer will to stay on his feet.

"I don't dislike people like you," Ivan admitted with a faint smile.

Raising his free hand, Ivan pressed it downward toward the ground.

Suddenly, the cliff beneath their feet began to shift and transform. The rocky surface came alive, reshaping itself into a massive compass that seemed almost otherworldly.

The compass encompassed everyone present. It spun rapidly, and within moments, all of them were relocated to the opposite side of Ivan.

In front of the group stood the trembling Scrimgeour, with Kingsley and Moody lying nearby, utterly drained from the earlier battle.

"You two as well," Ivan said, addressing Kingsley and Moody.

"It's comforting to know that the British Ministry of Magic has talents like you."

Ivan's tone carried an air of authority, almost as if he himself were the Minister of Magic.

"What gives a dark wizard the right to pass judgment on the Ministry of Magic?" Scrimgeour retorted, his voice sharp with defiance.

"Fair point," Ivan said with a shrug. "I can't argue with that."

Despite Scrimgeour's bad temper, Ivan showed no signs of irritation.

In truth, Ivan was surprisingly easy to talk to—especially when it came to those he considered capable.

Moody, for instance, was someone Ivan respected deeply. A man who despised evil and risked his life to hunt down Death Eaters deserved admiration.

Scrimgeour and Kingsley, though less experienced in comparison, shared similar qualities. They had justice in their hearts and refused to bow to evil forces.

Their strength might fall short, but in terms of character, Ivan was willing to extend them respect.

"But don't be so sure. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be your boss."

Ivan smirked and added, "I still have a lot of time to grow. And circumstances, power, and fortunes can change dramatically over time."

The meaning wasn't lost on the three Aurors.

"You?"

"Minister of Magic?" Scrimgeour said, as though Ivan had just told the most absurd joke he'd ever heard. "A dark wizard?"

"Dark wizard..." Ivan repeated, chuckling softly.

"May I ask you a question, Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour?"

"What is it?" Scrimgeour asked, his tone cautious, unsure of what Ivan was up to.

"Do you know who I am?"

As the words hung in the air, the three Aurors exchanged uncertain glances.

The truth was, they had no idea who Ivan really was.

"You don't know, do you?" Ivan said, spreading his hands with a bemused expression.

"See? You don't even know who I am, so how can you confidently judge that I'm a dark wizard?"

"You broke into Gringotts and stole—"

"Stop, stop, stop," Ivan interrupted with a smile.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm asking this—who do you think I am when I'm not in my current appearance?"

This time, even Scrimgeour—stubborn as he was—understood exactly what Ivan was implying.

The wizard Ivan was portraying had indeed violated British law and openly challenged the Ministry of Magic.

But the real question remained—who was Ivan?

They didn't even know the name of the identity he was using now, let alone his true self.

"In other words," Ivan continued, "if I leave here today and return in a few years, or perhaps a decade later, under a different identity—a more glorious one—"

He smiled faintly. "At that time, would it really be impossible for me to become the Minister of Magic?"

His words left the three Aurors momentarily speechless.

Even someone as seasoned as Moody had to concede that Ivan had a point.

They couldn't pierce through Ivan's disguise, which meant they had no way of knowing whether his true identity was innocent or guilty.

For all they knew, Ivan could very well be a law-abiding wizard in his everyday life.

And a law-abiding wizard—especially one with magical skills as profound as Ivan's—would have no difficulty making a name for himself in the Ministry of Magic.

__________

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