"Do you see it? This is us! This is true power!"
"Muggles? They're nothing but ants! Their weapons, their armies—they're a joke before us!"
"Long live pure-bloods! Long live the Dark Lord!"
"At last, we can hold our heads high! We've finally waited for this day! We no longer have to hide—we can finally kill... openly!"
Maniacal laughter, cheers, and curses intertwined, echoing through the night sky. They had waited far, far too long for this moment—for the chance to utterly crush the Muggles they regarded as lowly ants, to prove their own "nobility" and "strength."
And amid this backdrop of revelry and death—
At the center of the clearing Voldemort had designated as the "dueling ground," Dumbledore and Grindelwald's expressions had turned grim to the extreme. They listened to the distant screams, gunfire, and explosions, followed now by wild laughter, and they knew what had happened to those Muggles—those innocent, unarmed Muggles—and to the police officers and soldiers who had tried to protect them.
Voldemort still stood before them, his scarlet eyes filled with satisfaction and delight. He spread his arms as though savoring a grand symphony.
"Listen. What beautiful music." His voice was soft and mad. "Screams of despair, the wailing of steel, and the... laughter of my loyal servants. Professor, what do you think of this melody?"
Dumbledore's fingers nearly crushed the Elder Wand, but he knew that any rash move now might make things even worse. Voldemort's chaotic and powerful magic remained like a sword hanging over their heads, fixed upon both him and Grindelwald.
And Ian—
The black-haired young man who had remained standing in place finally moved slightly.
His gaze swept over the celebrating Death Eaters, over the corpses strewn across the ground, over the burning wreckage of armored vehicles in the distance, before