Hogwarts' White Lord

"Fire God Opens the Way!"

Moody's eyes widened in shock, and even his magical eye seemed on the verge of popping out of its socket.

In the entire wizarding world, only a select few knew about this spell—and Moody was one of them.

He knew well that Fire God Opens the Way was a spell invented by Dumbledore himself, a man revered as a master of fire magic.

This was no ordinary spell; it was Dumbledore's exclusive creation.

Moody had once sought to learn Fire God Opens the Way to combat Fiendfyre during an incident in Hogsmeade.

However, he quickly realized that the spell's difficulty far surpassed his expectations.

The sheer amount of magical power required to cast it was enough to deter 99% of wizards, even among the most talented.

But the magical power requirement wasn't the only barrier. Fire God Opens the Way had a unique condition: it required recognition by a phoenix.

This recognition didn't mean simply possessing phoenix blood. If it were that simple, Moody wouldn't have needed Dumbledore's guidance to even attempt the spell.

The so-called phoenix recognition was a form of special contract magic.

It required the caster to form a deep, mystical connection with a phoenix. Only then, through immense magical control, could one wield the destructive power of Fire God Opens the Way.

In summary, there were two critical requirements:

Immense magical power.

Recognition by a phoenix.

Actually, there was a third requirement—one that made the spell even more exclusive.

The method for learning Fire God Opens the Way was entirely in Dumbledore's hands.

Without Dumbledore's explicit approval, no one else could gain access to the knowledge needed to cast it.

Which brought Moody to two crucial questions:

Who was this man?

And what was his relationship to Dumbledore?

Moody couldn't believe that some rogue dark wizard had managed to steal a top-tier spell like Fire God Opens the Way from Dumbledore.

"Fire God Opens the Way?"

"What kind of magic is that?"

Unlike Moody, Dawlish and the others had never witnessed Dumbledore in action.

Even Kingsley, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, had only seen Dumbledore fight a handful of times—and never using Fire God's Way.

Had they known the origins of the spell, Dawlish, in particular, would have reacted far more dramatically.

Especially given Dawlish's current position as a loyal follower of Fudge.

Fudge would have leaped at the chance to use this incident to undermine Dumbledore further. A powerful and destructive spell like Fire God's Way being associated with Dumbledore would have been a political goldmine for him.

Unfortunately for Fudge, Moody wasn't going to give them that information.

As a staunch supporter of Dumbledore, Moody would never do something as foolish as framing or accusing him.

Still, Moody couldn't remain entirely silent in the face of their curious stares.

"That's a very advanced spell," Moody said gruffly. "There aren't many in the entire wizarding world who could perform it."

There truly weren't many because the spell was exclusively Dumbledore's creation.

But Kingsley, who had been observing Moody's reaction closely, sensed there was more to it than that.

"This is magic that only an archmage can master.."

"An archmage? Isn't that just a myth?" Dawlish asked, confused.

Kingsley gave him a withering look. "The great wizard has never been a myth. Headmaster Dumbledore and the former Dark Lord are both wizards who've reached that level."

Hearing Voldemort's name, Dawlish instinctively flinched, shrinking into himself.

But as he processed what had just been said, a terrifying realization hit him.

"You mean... that person? He's on par with the Dark Lord?"

The arrogance Dawlish had shown earlier evaporated instantly.

The mere idea of facing someone as powerful as Voldemort made his stomach churn.

Dawlish, who had initially been eager to challenge Ivan, now wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.

What was I thinking?

Dawlish berated himself silently, utterly mortified.

Isn't this guy too cowardly?

Dawlish could sense the subtle contempt from his more experienced colleagues, and even the newer Aurors seemed to be questioning him with their looks.

"I—I mean, how did you make such a judgment?" Dawlish stammered, trying to regain his composure. "You said that guy is very strong, I admit that. But comparing him to the Dark Lord—don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?"

His words only deepened the disdain in the expressions of Moody and Kingsley.

"Let me teach you something, kid," Moody growled, gesturing toward Ivan, who was currently dominating the mercenaries in battle.

"Among wizards, differences in strength usually come down to their understanding and experience with spells.

"But an archmage is different," Moody continued. "An archmage has transcended the boundaries of ordinary wizardry. It's not an exaggeration to say they're almost a different kind of being."

Moody paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in.

A typical wizard duel was about positioning, timing, and strategy.

To put it simply, it was like two people of similar physical strength in a fistfight—where the effectiveness of their punches depended on angles, positioning, and whether they could land a blow on a vital point.

But in a confrontation between an archmage and an ordinary wizard, the comparison was entirely different.

"It's like a three-meter-tall giant facing a group of human babies!" Moody explained bluntly.

"..."

"Unless those children are armed with guns—magical artifacts or instant-death spells like Avada Kedavra—the outcome is inevitable. The giant could crush them with a single punch or kick."

Of course, there are only a handful of magic props in the world that can close the gap between ordinary wizards and archmages.

The most famous in Europe is the Elder Wand in the Deathly Hallows.

It is no exaggeration to say that if Snape is an elite wizard of that level, holding the Elder Wand, so he can indeed fight Ivan.

As for victory...

it's hard to say.

The Elder Wand might be able to bridge the gap between an ordinary wizard and an archmage, but even so, Ivan had additional advantages.

His magic incarnation form and the protection of the Fenix gave him further edge.

In a direct confrontation, even with the Elder Wand, it would be difficult to decisively overpower Ivan if he used all his trump cards.

And then there was Avada Kedavra.

The Killing Curse was the wizarding equivalent of a bullet—lethal upon impact. For most wizards, being struck by it meant instant death.

Even Ivan, for all his power, wouldn't be able to withstand multiple rounds of the curse without dodging, evading, or defending.

It wasn't a question of raw strength; the Killing Curse operated on a different plane altogether. It was rule magic, bypassing conventional defenses to strike directly at the essence of life itself.

"Do you understand?!" Moody barked, his magical eye glaring at Dawlish and the other novice Aurors.

"Any spell cast by that man," he continued, "would take at least a dozen—no, twenty—wizards working together just to resist."

"And any magic you cast at him, he can easily dismantle."

Moody's tone was grim as he offered a critical lesson to Dawlish and the rest: the simplest way to identify an archmage.

"If you ever see a wizard standing alone and holding off dozens of opponents at once—and winning—don't think twice."

"Run. Immediately!"

He paused, scanning their faces.

"There's no shame in retreating from an archmage. What's truly foolish is charging forward and throwing your life away."

"Good analysis~" a voice suddenly interrupted.

A figure materialized in front of Moody and the Aurors, stepping forward casually.

It was Ivan, and he was smiling.

"Now, the question is," Ivan said, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, "I'm standing here. So, what's your decision? Will you come at me together, or will you turn around and leave?"

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