Dumbledore stared at the wisp of flesh and ash he had scooped up, his eyes widening until they nearly split at the corners. His lips twitched, but he said nothing more.
The Old Beekeeper knew what mattered most right now, but his reddened eyes still betrayed the needles piercing his heart.
Then he fixed a deadly stare on Soya. After decades of being the kindly old man, Dumbledore had not hated anyone this much in a very long time.
He suddenly pointed the Elder Wand at himself. Through legendary transfiguration, his body slowly grew younger amid a milky white glow.
As his back straightened, his snow-white hair and beard gradually turned auburn, and his moon-white wizard robes turned gray!
Dumbledore returned straight to his prime, right down to his temperament!
This was precisely the Transfiguration conjecture Shawn had previously read in the notes Professor McGonagall had given him: Rejuvenation!
Dumbledore's gray robes billowed. The kindness in his eyes had vanished, leaving only cold, fathomless pools.
The Elder Wand spun in his no-longer-aged hand and pointed straight at Soya.
"Fire God Clears the Way!"
Like Moses parting the sea, two vast avenues of flame surged up on either side of Soya.
Fiery red phoenixes spread their wings and soared, crying out as they trailed long, beautiful Feather-like flames.
"Screee!"
"Screee!"
"Screee!"
The cries of the fire phoenixes should have brimmed with hope and courage, but now they held nothing but fury. A hundred of them plunged toward Soya like a torrential hail of arrows.
Besides the dozens of little witches accompanying him, Soya had brought two subordinates who had remained silent all this time.
How could someone like Soya possibly stake his life on Dumbledore being too softhearted to let the little witches kill themselves?
His true trump card was the