Descent and Interception

Transfiguration was a required subject for every wizard, but no one had ever dared claim they had fully grasped its true essence. It was different from every other kind of magic in this world. It had no complicated, tongue-twisting incantations, no dazzling gestures, no crackling explosions or whooshing, roaring flames, yet its subtlety and complexity far surpassed any known spell.

The spells that hung between illusion and reality were blocked by Dumbledore again and again. Cover kept rising around Herpo the Foul, obstructing him and limiting his counterattacks. Under Dumbledore's protection, Grindelwald's figure vanished and reappeared over and over, powerful spells shooting out from time to time. The two circled each other, rapidly closing the distance to Herpo the Foul.

The last drop of silver rain fell, and the rain that had spread across the entire planet finally stopped. The stars suspended above city after city turned into meteors, all drawing closer to Berlin in unison.

The instant Nelson opened his eyes, he noticed Herpo the Foul's presence. Their gazes met through the mist, across the battlefield, across life and death, across two thousand years. He stood up, but his vision went black, and he collapsed into Zweig's arms as the latter arrived on the battlefield. He opened his eyes again. The Acolytes were standing in a solemn, imposing line, clearing the open ground around the Water Screen to make space for the people pouring out in an endless stream.

Zweig nodded at Nelson, helped him to his feet, and handed him over to Tom, who had hurried over.

"Charge with me!"

A heart-rending roar rang out in the distance, making one wonder whether the person shouting had bellowed his lungs right out of his chest. "Even if you don't want an unacceptable future to run you over, you should