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82.89% Hogwarts' White Lord / Chapter 126: 126: Retreat

Chapter 126: 126: Retreat

Too exaggerated.

Kingsley couldn't help but wonder—if they somehow managed to break through the barrier, could they even hope to defeat the intruder inside?

With such a massive gap in strength, Kingsley feared that even if all the Aurors combined their efforts, they would still fall short against this opponent.

"Call for reinforcements!" Kingsley shouted decisively. "Request immediate support!"

...

"What?!"

At the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge listened to the report from Gringotts with a mixture of shock and fury.

A dark wizard of unfathomable strength?

The very idea left Fudge rattled.

"Why has such a powerful dark wizard appeared in England?!" he demanded, his voice rising as he slammed the table.

"Who is he?!"

Fudge's thoughts spiraled as he asked repeatedly, "Is he connected to him? Is he a remnant of the Dark Lord?"

For Fudge, Voldemort was the ultimate nightmare—a name synonymous with terror and taboo.

Any mention of a dark wizard, especially one this powerful, being linked to Voldemort would spell the worst possible outcome.

"His identity is unknown," Rufus Scrimgeour replied, already preparing to dispatch more reinforcements. "Additionally, there are both wizards and goblins still inside Gringotts. If the intruder launches a direct attack—"

"Damn it!" 

Fudge hesitated, unwilling to take the risk of ordering a full-scale offensive. His political position depended on public perception, and alienating the wizarding or goblin communities could cost him dearly in votes for re-election.

"It's fine to send more reinforcements, but make sure to emphasize their ranks and authority," Fudge instructed sharply.

At the same time, he had to prepare for an interview to address this alarming incident.

Fudge was no stranger to such situations.

As long as he could project confidence and reassure the public, he knew they wouldn't press further.

In his words: The authority of the Ministry of Magic must never be challenged!

...

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A continuous stream of magic beams struck the barrier, each impact accompanied by a burst of sparks.

The sound of Apparition filled the air as more and more Aurors arrived from all over England, joining Kingsley and his team in their assault.

"Although the skill level of British Aurors isn't particularly impressive, there are certainly plenty of them," Ivan remarked as he walked deeper into Gringotts' underground levels, led by the old goblin.

Suddenly, he felt feedback from his magic barrier.

The original calculation—20 wizards attacking continuously for half an hour—was no longer valid. The arrival of reinforcements had significantly reduced that timeframe.

"Then let's reinforce it again," Ivan said calmly.

He waved his wand, conjuring another spell. Beyond the outer perimeter of Gringotts, he erected a second barrier, this one positioned above the underground passage.

"Guardian Resurrection!"

With a sharp flick of his Sycamore wand, a beam of magic shot out, enveloping the entrance of Gringotts, the bank lobby, and all the ornate metal statues near the doors.

In an instant, the lifeless sculptures sprang to life.

The once-static figures began to move, their joints creaking as they swayed and stretched.

One by one, they leapt down from their pedestals and positioned themselves strategically, blocking all passages like a line of sentinels.

"What kind of magic is this?"

After six or seven minutes of concentrated point-to-surface attacks, the Aurors finally managed to tear a small hole in the protective Barrier.

However, as they approached the entrance, what greeted them was a massive metal sculpture standing ominously in their path.

"It's just Transfiguration. Follow me and attack!" Dawlish barked, taking the lead.

He recognized these sculptures—they had previously been mere decorative fixtures in Gringotts.

"Bringing inanimate objects to life? Even low-level wizards can perform this kind of magic."

"Diffindo!"

Dawlish cast a Severing Charm without hesitation, targeting one of the statues at the front.

But to his shock, the beam of magic, which should have utterly destroyed the statue, seemed to vanish upon impact, leaving no visible effect.

"What the fuck?!"

Dawlish froze, unable to comprehend what had just happened. His spell had been completely ineffective.

"Roar!!"

The statue, seemingly provoked by the attack, let out a low, resonant growl.

In an instant, a chain reaction unfolded.

Dozens of statue guards—both large and small—sprang into motion, simultaneously launching attacks against the Aurors who had stepped inside.

"What kind of..? T.. This is no ordinary Transfiguration!" 

Unlike Dawlish, Kingsley quickly recognized the extraordinary nature of the spellwork.

These statues possessed enhanced resistance to magic and had the ability to move independently of their caster's active control—a clear sign of advanced and meticulous spellcraft.

"Advanced Transfiguration!??"

There was no doubt about it—these autonomous statues were the result of truly high-level Transfiguration magic.

This technique was far beyond ordinary spellwork, and only a handful of Aurors within the entire Ministry of Magic could hope to achieve something similar.

"Quick, stop them!" Kingsley shouted, stepping forward.

He cast a Glacius spell at the lead statue guard, attempting to freeze it mid-motion.

The spell succeeded, partially halting the statue in the air.

But even this minor victory left Kingsley inexplicably drained, his magic straining against the immense resistance.

"It's not on the same level at all."

The effort required to simply slow the statue made the disparity in magical power painfully clear.

If Kingsley had harbored any lingering doubts about the intruder's abilities before, they were now completely gone.

He was certain: the dark wizard who had broken into Gringotts was no ordinary foe but a powerful archmage.

An archmage breaking into Gringotts.

What a terrifying thought.

Such a wizard was leagues above anything they were equipped to handle.

Most Aurors in the Ministry of Magic were essentially combat operatives, trained in a limited repertoire of offensive and binding spells.

After graduation, few pursued the rigorous study of advanced magic. For the majority, 80-90% of the magic they learned at Hogwarts had been forgotten or left behind with their professors.

"Notify Dumbledore!" Kingsley ordered, his voice firm.

He cast a glance around at the other Aurors. He knew that if they continued their advance, they would only be walking to their deaths.

Magic was an unforgiving force. The gap between an archmage and an average wizard was like the difference between two entirely separate species.

"What?"

Kingsley's calm realization had not yet reached the other Aurors. They stared at him in confusion, puzzled by his order.

What's going on?

Why had Kingsley suddenly called for Dumbledore?

The Ministry of Magic was its own entity; Dumbledore, though highly respected, wasn't part of their organization. Why involve the old headmaster now?

"Retreat!"

"Everyone, retreat immediately!"

Kingsley, seeing no other option, ordered his colleagues to pull back strategically.

As he had predicted, the moment the Aurors withdrew from Gringotts, the statue guards stopped moving and did not pursue them outside the building.

"This spell is confined to Gringotts. As long as we retreat, they won't attack," Kingsley explained, his tone steady but laced with urgency.

"Haah.."

Relieved for a moment, Kingsley let out a quiet sigh. But his reprieve was short-lived.

Before he could plan the next move, several figures appeared at the scene—among them were Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour.

Accompanying them was an older wizard with a wooden leg and a commanding presence: Mad-Eye Moody.

"How many wizards cast this Ultimate Guardian Ward?"

"And what's the story with the statues inside?"

Moody limped forward, paying little attention to Fudge or Scrimgeour. His magical eye swiveled, focusing intently on the towering statues guarding the entrance to Gringotts.

___________

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Chapter 127: 127: No Lock Can Stop Me

"Mad-Eye?"

Kingsley hadn't expected even Moody to arrive.

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, a legendary Auror with unparalleled practical experience.

Among wizards below the rank of Grandmaster, Moody was considered one of the strongest.

But even someone as seasoned as Moody seemed taken aback by the scene before him. "Who's inside? The Dark Lord? Or Dumbledore?"

Just from this remark alone, the strength of the dark wizard inside became evident—Moody was comparing them to Voldemort and Dumbledore.

Kingsley took the comment in stride, but Fudge, Dawlish, and others were quick to dismiss it.

"That's impossible! There isn't any wizard this powerful in England!" Fudge exclaimed.

"Unless..." Dawlish muttered, trailing off.

"The Dark Lord died ten years ago," Fudge declared with certainty. "It can't be him."

To Fudge, this left only one possibility: the person inside was Dumbledore, somehow disguised.

"Are you out of your mind?" Moody snapped.

He found Fudge's conclusion utterly ridiculous.

How could the intruder possibly be Dumbledore?

It wasn't just unnecessary to suggest—it was absurd. Based on the sheer audacity of the intruder's actions and their high-profile approach, it was clear that this was not Dumbledore's style.

As for Voldemort? It didn't quite seem like him either.

An unknown wizard?

Despite facing such a powerful opponent, Moody showed no fear. Ignoring Fudge entirely, he limped forward to stand at the forefront of the Aurors.

The Aurors present had no real experience fighting against a Grandmaster-level wizard. They couldn't comprehend just how terrifying an opponent of that caliber truly was.

Meanwhile, in the depths of Gringotts, Ivan and the old goblin had already boarded the vault rails.

As he stared into the dimly lit tunnels ahead and then down at the rickety mine cart beneath his feet, Ivan couldn't help but criticize the goblins' sense of design.

To protect their treasures, the goblins had cast powerful anti-flying and anti-Apparition spells throughout the tunnels. Even the cascading waterfalls they passed on the way were imbued with enchantments designed to dispel all manner of magical protections.

Hua la la~~

As the cart passed through one such enchanted waterfall, the old goblin immediately snapped awake.

"Hey~~ Interesting," Ivan muttered.

He had deliberately excluded the old goblin from the protective magic he cast on himself, wanting to test the waterfall's effects.

The results were...

Impressive.

Ivan couldn't help but feel that this magical feature didn't seem like a goblin creation. Instead, it resembled something left behind by an ancient wizard of great skill.

In other words, it was yet another priceless treasure the goblins had acquired by dubious means.

"What did you do to me?" the old goblin screeched, fully awake now. "You damned thief! Filthy, shameless thief! I—"

"Enough noise!"

The old goblin's shrill voice grated on his ears, making him regret using the creature to test the waterfall's effects.

Without hesitation, Ivan cast the Sleepwalking Curse again.

It was a testament to Ivan's patience that he didn't simply toss the goblin from the cart. Had his mood been worse, he might have considered it.

Squeak~~

Accompanied by the grating sound of metal rails grinding together, Ivan's cart came to a halt at his destination.

Without hesitation, he cast a Stunning Spell on the old goblin and casually tossed the unconscious creature onto the platform outside the vault door. Ivan spared no further thought for the goblin's fate.

After all, it wouldn't take long for the goblins of Gringotts to come here.

Ivan hadn't taken a single life during the entire operation, a point he felt was quite in line with respectable principles.

"So far, the plan has gone very smoothly," he mused to himself.

From the moment he broke into Gringotts, everything had unfolded exactly as Ivan had foreseen.

Just as the prophecy had shown, he arrived at the vault under the guidance of the old goblin.

The next scene from the prophecy involved his return to Hogwarts, where he would turn the Soul Coffin and the cursed gold coins within it into nothingness.

"It's missing a few details, but that's irrelevant," Ivan muttered.

He turned his attention to the massive vault door standing in his way.

The door radiated incredibly strong magical energy. Using his Magic Eye, Ivan observed dozens of protective spells intricately layered to prevent theft.

"Let's Breakthrough by force..." Ivan murmured, raising his wand.

"Alohomora!"

This advanced unlocking spell was far more than a simple charm for opening locks. Its purpose was to disrupt and dismantle any magical or physical structure related to "blockade."

At its core, the spell was a form of idealistic magic: as long as the wizard's intent was resolute and paired with sufficient magical power, it could theoretically open any locked door, box, or spatial construct.

But...

"No reaction?" Ivan muttered, frowning.

He didn't believe the anti-unlocking spells on the door were strong enough to withstand his magic. Even with dozens of enchantments layered together, Ivan had complete confidence in his ability to break through.

And yet, he had failed.

"What is this door made of?" he wondered aloud.

Stepping closer, Ivan placed his palm on the dark, forbidding surface of the vault door.

"The main material is likely magical iron," he noted. "But it's been fused with some very rare elements..."

In the wizarding world, certain special metals are renowned for their extraordinary magical properties.

Mithril, refined gold, and mountain copper are among the most notable.

Mithril is as light as a feather, refined gold is nearly indestructible, and mountain copper is completely impervious to magical damage.

"The lock inside this vault door is crafted from indestructible mountain copper and can only be opened with a specially forged key made from refined gold," Ivan observed.

Additionally, intricate ancient runes were inscribed on the door using mithril, their faint glow still resonating with magic.

From a magical standpoint, this design created a formidable physical and magical blockade.

Unless the vault door was forcibly destroyed with a high-powered offensive spell, opening it with magic alone was nearly impossible.

This wasn't merely a question of magical strength—it was about precision and extremes.

"Sould I just use a Blasting Curse?" Ivan considered briefly.

The vault door was highly resistant to non-offensive spells, such as unlocking charms. However, it had far less resistance to destructive magic.

But there was a problem.

Using a Blasting Curse risked collapsing the cave itself, and worse, it could damage the Coffin inside the vault.

Ivan understood the immense power of his own spells, which made this option too dangerous to consider lightly.

"Heh~~"

Suddenly, Ivan chuckled.

He remembered how he had seen himself opening this door in the prophecy.

Wisps of white smoke began to rise from Ivan's palm, curling lazily in the air.

With a wave of his hand, the smoke seemed to gain purpose, weaving and writhing as it flowed toward the keyhole of the vault door.

Little by little, the smoke seeped into the lock mechanism, moving as if guided by Ivan's thoughts.

"Oh, this is the structure inside," Ivan murmured, closing his eyes and focusing intently.

The white smoke, an incarnation of pure magic, was perhaps the most refined magical force in existence—far surpassing even legendary magical metals like mithril in versatility and precision.

Moments later, a sharp metallic click echoed through the chamber.

The internal mechanisms of the vault door shifted, and the blockade fell away. The door opened without the need for a key.

__________

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