Months ago, when Dumbledore had been inexplicably killed by Snape, Kingsley had already felt lost. During that time, he had desperately wanted to understand how things had come to this.
He 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 Order of the Phoenix members had reminded Dumbledore to watch his safety. Sirius had even bluntly said that there was something wrong with Snape, yet Dumbledore had still been ambushed by Snape and died atop Hogwarts's Astronomy Tower. They said Snape had attacked him from behind. The whole thing was so baffling it felt like a joke.
Yes, baffling.
At least, that was how Kingsley saw it.
Dumbledore had been very close to Albert, and Albert, as the greatest Prophecy Master in centuries, could not possibly have failed to warn him after foreseeing something concerning Dumbledore.
Even if Dumbledore did not believe 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 magical world had undergone earth-shaking changes.
And Harry, as Dumbledore's successor, clearly could not bear that responsibility. Albert Anderson, who was capable of taking on that burden, had kept silent about everything and played the role of a charlatan: the time had not yet come.
To hell with the time not having come.
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 Lord Voldemort and keep fighting? Honestly, Kingsley was lost. It was not because he lacked inner strength, but because the