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He was too quick, the moment Max thought he had the man scouted he moved and was virtually gone from sight. Forty five years in the Auror Department and still he could barely keep his own against this man. He refused to face him head on for more than a few seconds, apparating after sending some curses Max's way. The most he could do was throw up a shield, or dodge the oncoming curses, and send an appropriate curse back, hoping to hit him.
A loud crack behind him signalled the reappearance of his foe, and Max whipped round to face him, his wand pointing directly at him. This time the man didn't move or disappear, he just stood there shaking his head, and smiling. He knew he was good, and that Max was struggling to keep up. The man being twenty five years his junior certainly tipped the scales in his direction, whether he was more powerful or more skilled was questionable. Albus's words echoed in his ears, "Two as one or we fail. If either escapes us we have failed."
"Dumbledore should haff come himself should he not? Sending vas a mistake you cannot win," mocked his opponent.
"Perhaps not Babelschon, but he had other matters to attend to," Max replied, his voice remaining calm and pleasant, "he felt I was capable of duelling you."
As Max finished his sentence, Babelschon had already sent a huge jet of fire at him, and the cry of, "Mistake," carried with it. Max poured his power into holding the jet back, casting it from one side to another, as Babelschon battled to push it forward. The few scattered trees around them burnt furiously in the morning light. He was a relentless opponent, a cruel and twisted one. He could have fled the moment Max had finally caught up with him, but now he seemed determined to kill him. The jet was pushing closer and closer, he couldn't continue to hold it. Max crouched down and silently cast a shield charm round himself. The flames engulfed him, burning the ground around him, the tips licking high in the air. Whilst the shied held, two things pierced it. The first the intense heat, the second the cruel laugh of Babelschon, who was obviously sure he had defeated his opponent.
The pressure of the fire stopped, Wolfgang had broken the spell, still laughing, hoping to see the charred remains of Max. As the flames died down, the veteran Auror released the shield charm and stood up, straight backed smiling. He bowed to his opponent. Partly mocking him, partly as respect for his abilities. He looked horrified, spitting on the ground, swearing. Had he forgotten, he was in a duel. He was pacing in a mad frenzy. He was only silence by the descent of a spectre. A ghostly Phoenix, that swooped in front of Max and opened it's mouth. A familiar voice, that filled him with happiness and a new sense of courage spoke, "My half is complete, I await your arrival."
The Phoenix vanished, well it was nice to know Albus had such belief in him. Still sure he could win, and even more relieving that Grindelwald was defeated. In what manner he didn't know, but he was. "Gellert is finished," Max called to his silent, but still crazed looking adversary, "Surrender."
"NEIN," roared Wolfgang, he raised his wand once more, "Lobo..."
Instinct, adrenaline, the human desire to live, whichever it was kicked in. Max knew what Wolfgang Babelschon intended to do, and he had no intention of suffering such a fate. He had seen the consequences, what Grindelwald's men had done to countless muggles, with the curse that was being aimed at him. He slashed his wand through the air, and a deep cut opened across the man's chest, blood poured from it but he did not fall, he did not flee, the madness just intensified. Black jets of light, the sign of the same curse flew at him. He ducked them or dodged them or flung them harmlessly against the ground. The man knew it was over why didn't he leave. His robes were soaked in blood, but still he was insistent on destroying Max first.
Unfortunately for him Max had no intention of dying, not when they were so close. Not when he had his beautiful wife and six year old twin daughters to return home to. He hadn't seen them in six months and didn't have any plans to die before he saw them again. Ducking to avoid another of the infamous curses, he knew that the time for surrender was gone, and that Babelschon had no intention of leaving both of them alive. He sunk to one knee, and aimed at Wolfgang's heart. It filled him with remorse to do such a thing, but he had no choice. He spoke softly, "Avada Kedavra."
His own curse flew through the air and struck it's target with deadly precision. Wolfgang collapsed in a heap and the final jets of black faded in the air. He approached the fallen man slowly, conjuring his own Patronus, a silvery stallion, with the happiest thought he could have right now. The knowledge he could go home to his family. "It's over, I'm coming." He pulled the man's arm over his shoulder and pulled the limp body off the ground. Turning on the spot he breathed a sigh of relief, that it was all over, after all these years, and thought of his destination. "Nurmengard."