Let Him Finish

"Are you afraid of me?"

Standing on the silver plate, Nelson was a head taller than most. He lifted his chin, his cold gaze sweeping over the massed Aurors before him. Without orders, no one rashly launched an attack. Nelson ignored the old wizard's attempt to change the subject with a sharp question and politely repeated the question he had just asked. "Are you... afraid of me?"

The Aurors' gazes sometimes gathered behind the old wizard, sometimes shifted to Alexander's face. No one spoke.

"The one you should fear isn't me. It's the teeming masses behind you."

Nelson paused, looked toward the numb citizens of Berlin, and continued, "You are the same."

"Whoosh!"

Magical light flashed.

Nelson lowered his head and looked at the wound where a spell had pierced his abdomen. The part that had already received warning and transformed into water was slowly healing back into its original form. Fine silver threads extended from the hole torn through his coat by the spell, as if a pair of deft weaver's hands were threading needle and thread, rapidly stitching the gap shut. He raised his head, arched an eyebrow, and finally looked toward the furious old wizard.

"Are you certain you want to provoke a conflict? That you don't want to see a better, more progressive, more harmonious, more inclusive world?"

Nelson's gaze rested on the old wizard's face, which had been ignored for a long time. The old wizard held his head high, his neck stiff, hatred that could not be calmed congealed in his aged, cloudy eyes. His cheeks bulged and tightened with gnashing rage, and the hand behind his back made a slight gesture.

Nelson patiently waited for his response. The next second, spells shot out from the hands of the Aurors behind the old wizard.