Hogwarts' White Lord

Scrimgeour was left speechless after hearing Ivan's words.

"You mean to say that you're a British wizard?" Moody asked, trying to probe further.

Scrimgeour and Kingsley immediately caught on to Moody's line of thinking.

If Ivan claimed he could one day become the Minister of Magic in Britain, then his true identity must indeed be that of a British wizard, right?

"Yes, I am indeed a British wizard," Ivan confirmed, his tone calm.

Ivan was aware that Gringotts was still gathering reinforcements. He planned to deal with the last wave of hired wizards and crush any lingering hope the goblins might have of stopping him.

For now, though, he didn't mind using the time to engage with Moody, Scrimgeour, and Kingsley, airing his dissatisfaction with the state of the British wizarding system.

"A British wizard?" Scrimgeour echoed, clearly finding the claim difficult to believe.

Seeing Moody's hesitation, Ivan smirked.

"I don't know why you're so eager to associate me with Dumbledore," Ivan said, his voice laced with amusement. "But I can tell you very clearly—I am not Dumbledore."

Scrimgeour looked at Moody in surprise, his brow furrowing.

"You thought he was Dumbledore?" Scrimgeour asked incredulously, shaking his head. "Are you going senile, old friend?"

Scrimgeour couldn't fathom how Moody could confuse Ivan with Dumbledore. To him, Ivan was Ivan, and Dumbledore was Dumbledore—how could someone like Moody make such a mistake?

"You know nothing!" Moody snapped, unwilling to explain himself.

He simply stared at Ivan, trying to determine if he was lying.

One thing Moody was certain of—Ivan was not Dumbledore.

"If I were to become Minister of Magic in Britain," Ivan continued, "the first thing I would do is improve the strength of our wizards."

He gestured toward Dawlish and the other Aurors standing nearby.

"Look at them," Ivan said dismissively. "They're not even close to my level. With this level of skill, it's no wonder England is the weakest of all the magical ministries in the world."

"That's impossible!" Scrimgeour retorted quickly. "Even if there are differences between the magical ministries of various countries, the gap isn't that significant."

"Oh?" Ivan chuckled. "So everyone is just equally weak? No wonder you're content to remain stagnant."

The three Aurors fell silent. They wanted to argue that the British Ministry of Magic wasn't weak.

As the leader of Europe, the British Ministry of Magic still ranked highly in many aspects of global wizarding governance.

"It's not easy for wizards to improve their strength," Kingsley said cautiously.

"It's certainly not easy," Ivan replied with a nod, casually lifting the two toads—Fudge and Umbridge—into the air with his wand.

"Look at them," Ivan continued. "A Minister of Magic and a senior official, yet their magical abilities are utterly laughable."

He let the toads hover in mid-air for a moment before adding, "If promotions within the Ministry of Magic have no connection to magical competence, then why should wizards even bother studying magic at all?"

Gasp!

The argument that "different people have different roles" or that there was a department dedicated to magical research didn't hold water for Ivan.

In his view, the defining difference between Muggles and wizards was magic itself.

To have a civilization blessed with such power only to adhere to the same mundane, bureaucratic systems as Muggles was, to Ivan, utterly absurd.

"And it's not like they have a good brain either," Ivan added.

"You... you want to overthrow the Ministry of Magic?"

Scrimgeour drew in a sharp breath. The thought alone was chilling.

Given Ivan's current strength, Scrimgeour realized he wasn't merely speculating—he believed Ivan might genuinely be capable of such an act.

Here was a wizard who had single-handedly defeated nearly all the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic and humiliated the elite hired wizards of Gringotts.

With power like this, Ivan could potentially create chaos greater than what Voldemort had wrought in his prime.

"No, no, no," Ivan said with a casual wave of his hand, as if dismissing Scrimgeour's concerns.

"Overthrowing the Ministry? That's far too much trouble. Building a new system from scratch… it's not something I need to waste my time on."

"What do you mean?" Scrimgeour asked, his confusion mirrored by Moody and Kingsley.

Was Ivan implying that someone else had plans to destabilize the Ministry?

"The man whose name you avoid saying," Ivan began, his tone turning slightly amused. "You call him… Voldemort, right?"

The moment the name left Ivan's lips, an icy chill seemed to spread through the air.

For Dawlish and the other Aurors, the mention of Voldemort sent shivers down their spines. Many of them had grown up under the shadow of his terror, and now they trembled uncontrollably.

"Pfft."

Ivan couldn't help but laugh at their reactions.

"Sorry," he said, feigning an apologetic tone, "I know you're all terrified of him."

"But I have to say—while Voldemort may seem terrifying to you, to me, he's… underwhelming, at best."

"The power of the Dark Lord is beyond anything you can imagine!" one of the Aurors suddenly blurted out, his voice trembling but defiant.

Ivan scratched his cheek thoughtfully before replying, "Weren't the Death Eaters arrested after his fall? So, what's this? A remnant sympathizer?"

The Auror who spoke up was a pure-blood wizard, someone whose family had likely benefited from Voldemort's rise.

Ivan could see the logic—the support wasn't out of loyalty but rooted in shared interests.

And now, here was Ivan, an enigmatic figure criticizing the Ministry of Magic's system and openly mocking their fears.

The problem lies in the foundation of the Ministry of Magic's system, which stems from aristocratic rule—the very source of profit and privilege for the pure-blood elite.

If the Ministry of Magic were to become a unified, incorruptible entity, how would these pure-blood families exploit its weaknesses for their gain?

For Ivan to seize power, he would have to either embrace the pure-blood aristocracy's structure or face relentless obstruction from them at every turn.

"Shut up, Travers!"

Scrimgeour barked, his voice sharp with irritation.

Travers belonged to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and his family had a history of ties to the Death Eaters.

It wasn't surprising.

During Voldemort's reign, at least two-thirds of the pure-blood families had supported him, either directly or indirectly.

"It's fine, it's fine," Ivan interjected, signaling for Scrimgeour to calm down.

"After all, it's Voldemort we're talking about. He was quite powerful a decade ago."

Ivan paused thoughtfully before adding, "Well, he's probably about as strong as I am now."

The statement sent a ripple of disbelief through the group.

"Maybe he knows more magic than I do," Ivan admitted with a slight shrug. "But in terms of raw magical power? I'd say he's not quite on my level."

Ivan wasn't simply boasting—his confidence came from experience.

He had encountered Voldemort's remnants and compared them to his own battles with Dumbledore.

In his previous engagements, Ivan had never unleashed his full strength.

At most, he'd used 30% to 40% of his magical power, and even that had been enough to overwhelm his opponents.

"You're too arrogant," Scrimgeour snapped, his tone laced with frustration.

Like many others, Scrimgeour and his colleagues had demonized Voldemort in their minds.

No matter how powerful Ivan appeared, they still regarded Voldemort as the pinnacle of magical might.

While Voldemort had never ventured outside of England, this wasn't due to a lack of strength—it was because of Dumbledore's presence in the country.

If the two were to clash, it would inevitably lead to chaos.

Even so, Voldemort, who could go head-to-head with Dumbledore, was easily considered one of the top five most powerful wizards in the world.

If not the second, then certainly among the strongest.

"Heh..."

Ivan let out a faint chuckle, not bothering to argue with Scrimgeour and the others. Slowly, he rose from his seat.

The sight made the Aurors watching from a distance tense up, their hands gripping their wands tightly.

They feared that Ivan might launch another attack over a mere disagreement.

"Don't be so nervous," Ivan said calmly, his voice cutting through the tension.

"I've already said—you're not my enemies."

With a casual motion, Ivan tossed the two toads—Fudge and Umbridge—back to Dawlish, who caught them clumsily.

Then, he raised his wand and lifted the Head of Gringotts, who had been immobilized, into the air.

"Now, watch closely," Ivan said, his tone commanding.

"Magic may not grant every wish," he continued, his voice resonating with authority. "But it can achieve anything that people desire."

As his words hung in the air, the faint sound of rail cars echoed in the distance and a large number of wizards came from all directions.

_____________

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