"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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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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