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White mist swallowed the rocky outcrop.
The scarlet Fiendfyre dragon, black smoke trailing from its jaws, flickered in and out of the fog like a living nightmare. Water dragons torn from the sea lunged upward, jaws snapping at the circling hellfire. Every collision threw up fresh clouds of steam that rolled across the black stone.
Fire met water. Heat boiled the ocean into thick white vapor that wrapped the entire reef in seconds. The world shrank to roaring water, crackling flame, and the hiss of steam. Flames stabbed through the mist in sudden red flashes, painting the fog the color of old blood.
It looked like chaos. It wasn't. Both sides were still feeling each other out.
The old wizard moved like a man stretching before a morning walk. He let the Fiendfyre advance and retreat through the mist, never committing to a full assault, never going fully defensive. Just testing. At the same time he studied the half-seen water dragons—raw power far beyond any kid his age, plus that unnatural water affinity. And the boy wasn't even holding a wand.
If they'd stayed inside the tower, he never would've seen this.
Across the mist, Lucien's dark-green eyes had gone black. Arcane Sight spun in his pupils, reading the flow of magic like a map. Plain seawater wouldn't kill Fiendfyre. The curse-flame didn't just burn flesh; it scorched the soul. That was why it could destroy a Horcrux.
Magic surged under his skin.
Orange-red fire ignited around him—thick, slow, almost viscous, like molten rock given shape. Lava Fire. Dumbledore had taught him two fire spells that day: this one for combat, and Gubraithian Fire for alchemy and potions. The old man's whisper still echoed in his head.
Try the Fire God's Way.
Lucien shaped the molten fire with the technique Dumbledore had shown him, layering it with the fire elemental rune. The flames grew hotter, yet stayed obedient, coiling around him like a sleeping serpent made of liquid rock.
A fresh wave of Fiendfyre burst out of the white mist, roaring straight at him.
The Lava Fire answered. It surged up in a thick wall between Lucien and the hellfire. No explosion. No thunder. Just a long, ugly sizzle—like red-hot iron dropped into water.
The viscous orange-red flames wrapped the scarlet Fiendfyre. For a heartbeat the hellfire seemed to falter, its fury muffled, like a beast with its throat crushed. Then Lucien felt it—the Lava Fire wasn't losing power. It was growing. Feeding.
A strange light flickered in his eyes.
So that was why Dumbledore had told him to use the Fire God's Way.
On the far side of the mist, the old wizard felt his Fiendfyre weaken and curl its lip. He glanced toward the spot where Dumbledore stood, hidden by the fog but still easy to locate.
"You really do like this kid," he said, voice dry. "Even taught him that spell."