Destroy the Ministry of Magic's authority? Destroy order?
Dumbledore took a gentle step forward, like dense storm clouds descending from the sky, seemingly draining all light from the world.
That oppressive terror crashed relentlessly against everyone's minds like a raging tide.
Great beads of sweat had already formed on Fudge's forehead. He could even hear his own teeth chattering.
Instinctively, he wanted to turn and flee, only to discover, to his horror, that he could not move. His suit, his shirt, his shoes-even the air itself-were resisting him.
It was not just Fudge. Everyone felt the same thing. Every trace of cold indifference and mockery on Lucius's face had turned to panic.
His expensive traveling robes acted like a guard, clamping tightly around him.
Kingsley trembled all over, every muscle straining against that force. His wand quivered, and a dazzling spell reached Dumbledore in an instant.
Dumbledore curled a finger and flicked it lightly, batting the spell away as though swatting a fly.
Kingsley, Fudge, and Lucius forgot all about struggling. They could only stare blankly at Dumbledore.
Was this the power of the Wizarding World's greatest wizard? Flicking spells away with a finger?
Although they knew he stood at the very pinnacle of wizardkind, they had never truly seen Dumbledore in action.
There were stories that Dumbledore could keep Voldemort firmly in check, but those were only stories, after all.
Besides, Dumbledore was over a hundred years old.
What could an old man over a hundred possibly do?
Fudge had simply assumed that, powerful as Dumbledore had once been, he was now old and frail. If the Ministry of Magic wished, it could arrest him at any time, even if that meant suffering some casualties.
"Dumbledore, even if you can use your power to resist the Ministry of Magic,