Months ago, when Dumbledore had been inexplicably killed by Snape, Kingsley had been at a loss. During that time, he had desperately wanted to understand how things had turned out this way.
He still remembered that, before the attack that night, they had all glimpsed fragments of the future through Albert's prophecy and guessed that Dumbledore might soon leave them.
Most members of the Order of the Phoenix had reminded Dumbledore to watch his safety. Sirius Black had even bluntly said that there was something wrong with Snape, yet Dumbledore had still been ambushed by Snape and died atop Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower. They said Snape had attacked him from behind. The whole affair was so absurd it felt like a joke.
Yes, absurd.
At least, that was how it seemed to Kingsley.
Dumbledore had been very close to Albert, and Albert, as the most powerful Master of Prophecy in centuries, could not possibly have failed to warn him after foreseeing what would happen to Dumbledore.
Even if Dumbledore had not believed it, he would at least have given it some thought.
Under those circumstances, how could Snape possibly have succeeded?
From that day onward, the entire British wizarding world had undergone earth-shaking changes.
And Harry, Dumbledore's successor, was clearly unable to shoulder that responsibility. As for Albert Anderson, who could have taken on that burden, he had kept silent about everything and played the role of a charlatan: the time had not yet come.
To hell with the time not being right.
Now Scrimgeour was dead too, and the Ministry of Magic had been brought down by Voldemort. The reorganized Ministry was nothing more than a tool in Voldemort's hands.
What was he supposed to do next?
Gather the wizards willing to resist The Dark Lord and keep fighting?
To