Dark Wizard and Dark Wizard

"Mr. Weatherby." Fudge's voice sounded as though someone had seized him by the throat. He grabbed Percy's sleeve and whispered urgently:

"Draft the documents as soon as we get back—in the most formal format, proposing that Dumbledore take over as Minister... Hurry... I'm calling an emergency meeting tonight..."

Percy's glasses slid down to the tip of his nose with a "click." His wide eyes made him look like an owl stretching out its neck. His mouth opened and closed, but all that came out were a few short, breathy "Uh... ah..." sounds.

Fudge shot an unhappy glance at his slow-witted subordinate and urged, "Get moving, Weatherby! Write the first draft right now. Don't delay Minister Dumbledore's inauguration!"

While everyone assumed that suffocating pressure came from the slandered Dumbledore, the Headmaster showed no intention of explaining himself.

His gaze passed over the crowd and landed in an inconspicuous corner, on a "middle-aged wizard" whose hair stirred without wind. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and his lips tightened into a straight line.

At that moment, the "middle-aged wizard" suddenly turned around, and their eyes met briefly.

Crack!

In the stands, centered around a certain area, the surrounding seats split with a ring of radial cracks. The vines hanging from the armrests seemed to have been severed by invisible blades, drifting down like snowflakes.

The crowd fell even quieter. Some of those who had once disparaged Dumbledore's strength and mocked him as a senile madman lowered their heads, behaving more meekly than quails.

The view on the screen suddenly spun wildly—

Voldemort tossed the badge to a Death Eater. The man caught it in a fluster, nearly letting the camera capture his face. Even after steadying himself, he remained visibly panicked.

Of course, with his face covered, no one around him could see