Cursed Past (Part 2)

White mist outlined an orderly silhouette, flickering beneath the oppressive sky with a light bright enough to illuminate the battlefield. As time passed, as Nelson's prayer neared its end, as more and more Muggles picked up Wands like wizards, the city grew ever more solid and distinct.

An endless stream of vehicles drove along broad roads, rolling over the jagged ruins and broken walls, passing through the bodies of the two sides fighting amid the rubble as they headed toward their destinations. With the rising sun, pedestrians condensed from mist came and went, beginning their daily routines. Some carried briefcases, some held slices of bread in their mouths, their backs unburdened by the pressure of wartime like those people of color. Children lined up and sang songs no one here understood as they crossed the road, and the traffic sensibly stopped, giving way to the pedestrians.

The instant the singing rang out, the sounds that belonged to that city rose with it, making Berlin—oppressive in atmosphere and stunned into silence by the mirage's marvel—noisy once more. Car horns, birdsong, breakfast vendors' cries in incomprehensible tongues came one after another, detailed enough to make people feel, despite themselves, that this was a real world, a better world than this one.

Those towering, beautiful buildings were so high their tops could not even be seen; saying they pierced the clouds would not be an exaggeration. They were square and upright, presenting a beauty that combined order and practicality. But no one who saw them would believe that the city beneath their feet, almost completely razed to the ground, would one day grow into this awe-inspiring form like countless cities elsewhere in the world.

If someone told any wizard present that in fifty years, hundreds or even thousands of cities like this would