The duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald should have already begun for a while.

The entire Department of Mysteries appears to be in shambles, in tatters and badly damaged.

The ban imposed by the Ministry of Magic was useless to both of them. It seems that coming and going here is just a gesture, and as long as you find out the location, the apparition is a familiar way.

For others, the illusion is a curse that is difficult to master.

Dumbledore flashed out of the large marble fireplace, the blue-green flames quickly fading and dissipating, and the tall, energetic old man quickly withdrew from it, and then disappeared again.

Only vague afterimages remained.

Grindelwald, on the other hand, suddenly appeared from behind a dark door, and then disappeared abruptly, and a gray mist followed him closely, surrounding him, and he couldn't see the true face.

The confrontation between the two of them is barely captured by the naked eye.

In fact, Grindelwald had trimmed his messy beard by this time, the messy, dirty hair, the messy yellow teeth now looked clean, and the wrinkles on his face had disappeared a lot.

The brazier that hung on the pitch-black walls and served as a light suddenly burst into a dazzling light, burning violently, bursting into several dazzling fireballs, which once again illuminated the entire dark room.

Then it scurried towards the corner, where Dumbledore was.

Dumbledore immediately lightly picked it with his wand, and not far away, a fishbowl with green stagnant water accumulated in it, shook it a few times, and poured out in one breath, like a nimble swimming fish, devouring these surging flames.

"You're still so weak, Albus. Grindelwald sighed, words that only he could hear.

"Perhaps, it's just that sometimes, weakness can transform into hard armor. Dumbledore responded, even though the old man's words were indiscernible in his words.

Both voices were inaudible, but they both heard each other.

Phantom shifting.

Another frenzied apparition shifter, ignoring the consumption of mana, just to gain the upper hand in the battle.

Two people would suddenly appear in any corner of the room, and the dappled light and shadow dazzled everyone, unable to keep up with their speed.

At some point, the thick black chains lying on the ground suddenly tightened, sprang up, diverged, and pierced from all directions, as if to block all routes.

Both sides are trying to hinder the other's movements.

Restriction and counter-limiting, the subtle transfiguration is constantly displayed in the duel between the two, which is dizzying.

There was a sudden rumbling sound, as if a well-trained army was marching in unison.

The golden centaur sculpture moved, perhaps on Dumbledore's side.

These sculptures in the reception hall of the Ministry of Magic were summoned here at some point to serve as his soldiers.

Some of the little goblins made of iron came to life, and suddenly opened their closed eyes, and the fierce light appeared, as if they had only been awakened from their slumber, and raised the heavy hammers in their hands.

There are also some house-elf statues with kitchen utensils in their hands, which also come to life, and begin to wave their brooms, and the tinkling of pots and pans into the battlefield.

In an instant, it changed from a duel between two people to a duel between two legions.

Knives, axes, hammers, these iron weapons clashed, making a crunch sound of metal clashes.

They have no sense of fear or pain, and they fight fearlessly.

The head of the golden horse man was cut off with a knife, and it fell to the ground with a grunt and jumped a few times, and was picked up by the long arm and returned to the head.

The elf held its scythe and hammer aloft and swung its arms wildly in all directions, smashing into the centaurs' torsos and shooting out sparks.

Iron filings, copper filings, silver filings, with the birth of deep scars, flew everywhere.

The clanging sound makes people ring.

This is their "blood".

But the contest of magic is not limited to the battle between the two legions.

But the duel between the two was going on elsewhere at the same time.

The flames danced, emitting a scorching heat, scorching the houses, forming chains with scorching heat.

The wall of wind blades blocked out the flames, and there was a long, screeching roar that crackled and stabbed.

The spectators couldn't even tell who was sending the magic, who was on the offensive and who was defending.

The offensive of the flames gradually stopped, and just when everyone thought they were going to die down, they suddenly broke out again.

In everyone's eyes, the scene is a strange scene of light and shadow at this time.

A blazing lion suddenly burst out of nowhere, roaring in the secret room, roaring like thunder, deafening, its whole body was blood-red, every fur on its body was blooming with bright flames, scorching and stinging, running vigorously, the blazing red fire spread wildly, as if composed of flames of the tide, overwhelming, unstoppable.

Everywhere you go, the gold melts and the iron is dissolved, and the sound of burning is endless.

The slowly flowing water on the floor rose from the ground in unison, and the chaotic water droplets gathered into a tough water curtain, and the faint blue water waves came first to block the invasion of the flames.

But that won't help.

Then the clear water began to burn in accordance with the laws of physics, and spread towards the door even more violently, as if it was not water, but fuel oil.

"All stand back!Philius!" shouted Professor McGonagall.

Then she and Flitvier raised their wands and together summoned layers of clear water curtains in front of everyone.

Just as the male lion was raging in the whole room, a huge wind blade visible to the naked eye descended from the sky and slashed head-on, the strong and powerful flame lion could not dodge, and directly collided with the sharp wind blade, and in an instant, the beast-shaped flames gathered were divided into two, two into four, and collapsed sharply until they subsided.

Completely annihilated in the void.

On another battlefield.

The mechanical clocks that had been thrown on the ground had disappeared without a trace, and they had been conjured into some hard metal chains.

Some were controlled by the other side, transforming into swords and blades that shimmered with cold light.

The cold and glittering iron chains suddenly tightened and enlarged, intertwined into a net, blocking the invading blades, accompanied by a crisp sound of ping-pong, those sharp, weapons rolled up the blades, and in an instant turned into sharp needles to find a chance to break through.

But he had no choice but to crash into a sturdy black iron shield.

Scattered all over the place in an instant.