Stall

"Nelson Wiltening..."

The Old Wizard was already exhausted, so exhausted that even calling Nelson's name came out in broken fragments. He felt his struggle at that moment was like carrying firewood to put out a fire. Nelson had not sealed off Apparition the way the International Confederation of Wizards had done before; as time passed, more and more wizards joined the battlefield. The scale of this war kept expanding, already breaking free of the violent machine that was the Aurors and dragging more and more wizards who feared the unknown Muggles into the flames of war.

He dragged his dry, hoarse throat open and shouted, "...Williams!"

But the air around them was packed with cries of killing that made his head feel as though it would split. His voice was crushed before it could even reach Nelson. Facing an unknown future, people were unwilling to let fear lock them down, and had entrusted all their emotions to uncontrollable rage.

Ministry of Magic employees, merchants from the magical streets, even workers who had just clocked off from the Magic Factory—even if they had already grown used to Muggles and wizards coexisting to a certain degree, they still instinctively felt intense revulsion toward the stance Nelson had just revealed. It was just as Grindelwald had once said to Nelson many years ago—"People won't resist you giving them something useless, but they will oppose you giving that thing to someone else."

The crowded street could no longer contain wizards, Muggles, Inferi, or anything else that could still move. Surrounded by the masses, The Old Wizard stood opposite Nelson, having already lost control of the battle, but he believed Nelson, who was pointing his Wand at him, must have fallen into the same predicament. Those Muggles waving ridiculous metal Wands made him think of