Chapter 142: Showing Authority Against Authority

"Alright, mission accomplished," Alaric clapped his hands satisfactorily, then looked at Proudfoot.

"So, still want to arrest me? Or confiscate my magical items?"

"Well..." 

Proudfoot looked at the Aurors hanging from the ceiling and buried in the ground with only their heads exposed, couldn't help but smile bitterly. 

This scene was like a slap, harshly slapping the face of the Auror office. It was a complete insult to the Aurors, and when others arrived here, the Auror office would lose all face.

However, they couldn't retaliate yet. 

First, the logic was on the other side, after all, confiscating the items had been their own doing; second, the other party was too strong, simply not someone they could afford to provoke.

"Let's forget about it. Take your magical items yourself. After all, confiscating the wand and magical items of an unconvicted wizard is against the rules."

"Is that so? You're quite sensible," Alaric patted his shoulder, "This time, I'll let you go. You should be grateful. Just look at Dumbledore's face, I didn't use Animagus."

Animagus...

Thinking of this, Proudfoot couldn't help but break out in a cold sweat.

This boy was the first Animagus in history, apparently a dragon.

With his abilities, if he really transformed into a dragon, they would all have to explain themselves here with just a few breaths of dragon fire or a swipe of his claws.

Truly not someone to mess with.

"Um..." Proudfoot hesitated before advising slowly, "You better leave quickly. The elevator is damaged. If you don't hurry, you'll definitely be late."

No need to bother. Oh, and Dawlish is flushed down the toilet by me. He can find his own way out."

Alaric picked up his dragon-skin pouch from the ground, stuffed Skyraider inside, and walked towards the direction of the elevator.

At the elevator, he waved Proudfoot's wand slightly. The completely burnt elevator was restored to its original state. 

Then, he pointed at a few spots, and the elevator immediately became operational again.

Proudfoot was utterly dumbfounded. He couldn't understand why an elevator burnt to such an extent could be restored. Truly, strong wizards were capable of anything.

He watched Alaric's disappearing figure, not even noticing his own wand thrown at his feet.

Everything that happened today would be unforgettable for him.

Alaric stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the ninth floor.

The elevator couldn't go deeper than that. At most, it could reach the ninth floor. The tenth floor, where the courtroom was located, had to be reached by foot.

The elevator doors closed with a clatter, and the elevator began its descent. 

After a while, the friction of the descent finally ceased, and a cold female voice sounded in the elevator, "Department of Mysteries."

The elevator doors clattered open again, and Alaric stepped out, arriving at a corridor.

This corridor was completely different from the others above. 

The walls were empty, with no doors or windows, except for a simple black door at the end of the corridor, which led to the Department of Mysteries.

The Department of Mysteries was a department of the Ministry of Magic dedicated to secret research on specific mysteries— including death, time, space, thought, and love— and stored and guarded records of prophecies.

Most of its operations were completely confidential to ordinary wizarding folk. 

However, the main business of this department seemed more like what scientists did— revealing the sources and rules governing the operation of magic.

Alaric glanced deeply at the black door. He swore that one day all the information here would belong to him.

But it wasn't the time yet. Sooner or later, he would completely control the Ministry of Magic, and then whether he could control the Ministry of Magic depended on his performance next.

His goal was to the left of the corridor. There was an opening leading to a staircase that descended to the tenth floor.

Descending the stairs, he followed another corridor.

It was similar to the corridors leading to Snape's underground classrooms at Hogwarts: rough stone walls, torches on sconces. 

The doors they passed here were heavy wooden doors with iron bolts and keyholes.

At the end of the corridor was a sinister black door with a large iron lock.

This was the Tenth Courtroom of the Wizengamot.

The Wizengamot was the highest court in the wizarding world, and its members were akin to senators in the wizarding community and jurors in a court, wielding considerable power.

Alaric looked at the imposing door, coldly smiling. The real destination had finally arrived. 

The people behind this door were his target for coming to the Ministry of Magic. 

He endured the trouble and impatience of being brought from Hogwarts to the Ministry by the Aurors, then fiercely taught the Aurors a lesson in the lobby, all for this moment.

But before that, he intended to show authority to these members of the Wizengamot and the bureaucrats of the Ministry.

He took two steps back, his legs tensed.

The next moment, diamond-like dragon scales grew on his legs, claws extended, but his upper body remained unchanged.

This was his new technique, Partial Animagus. When applied properly, it could combine the strengths of both human and dragon.

With a sudden swing of his leg enhanced by dragon power, there was a loud "thud." 

Under the immense force, the iron door was completely kicked in, and the axes on both sides broke one after another.

Then, the door collapsed with a crash.

The tremendous sound echoed incessantly in the dark corridor, and Alaric stepped into the courtroom on the fallen door.

The walls around the courtroom were built of black stones, and the torchlight was dim and eerie. 

On both sides were rows of gradually rising empty benches, and in front of him, on the highest benches, were many shadowy figures.

Ordinary defendants would feel immense psychological pressure in this eerie and dark atmosphere, which was the authority of the Wizengamot towards the defendants.

But at this moment, all these figures turned their attention uniformly towards the direction of the door.

Alaric stepped on the fallen door, looking at these high-ranking figures, sneering.

"Sorry, the quality of this door is a bit poor. It collapsed with just a light touch."

Everyone was stunned, all the whispers stopped, and Alaric's display of authority truly frightened them.

But it wasn't over yet.

The next moment, with a snap of his fingers, there was a "pop" sound.

All the torches, with their dim flames, extinguished. 

Instead, they were replaced by golden sun-like flames, and the dazzling light instantly dispelled the gloom in the courtroom.

No one could hide in the darkness anymore. Everyone in the courtroom was immediately exposed to view.

About a hundred people were seated on the surrounding benches, dressed in purple robes.

They all looked down at him, some with stern expressions, while others showed their curiosity without hiding it.

In the front row of benches, in the middle, sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. 

On his left sat a wide-bodied, square-jawed witch, with short Grey hair and a pair of single-lens glasses. Her face was awe-inspiring. 

The position on Fudge's right was empty, but from the nameplate in front of the seat, it could be seen that this position belonged to Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.

Alaric's actions left a deep impression on everyone present.

Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge was furious. He stood up and roared at Alaric.

"Alaric! What on earth are you doing? You should know, this is the Wizengamot, and you are here to stand trial."

"Really?" Alaric nodded indifferently, ignoring his words, and instead asked, "So, where's my seat?"

Before Fudge could speak, Dumbledore on the other side spoke up, "Your seat is right in the middle. Sit down, child."

Dumbledore was the Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot, and in this situation, he had the authority to speak freely.

Alaric looked towards the center of the courtroom. There was a high-backed iron chair, with iron chains on the armrests. 

These chains could suddenly spring up and bind the person sitting in the middle.

"Oh, this chair is really crude," Alaric muttered in a voice that everyone could hear.

Then, he snapped his fingers.

The next moment, the iron chair changed its appearance, turning into a black leather, solid wood armrests, and a luxurious swivel boss chair.

Alaric sat down, sinking deeply into the soft backrest. 

He crossed his legs, then pulled the armrest, causing the backrest to tilt backward. In this way, he was almost lying down in his seat.

The members of the Wizengamot were amused and bemused by Alaric's actions. 

He didn't look like a defendant here to stand trial at all, but rather a leader inspecting the scene.

Leaning back in the boss chair, Alaric rested one elbow on the armrest, supporting his head. He rotated the chair, allowing himself to survey the entire courtroom.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Alaric spoke again.

"I think the decoration here is too simple, lacking any taste."

With a snap of his fingers, the entire courtroom immediately transformed.

Holly and mistletoe garlands hung on the walls of the courtroom, and the ceiling was adorned with never-melting icicles. 

Christmas trees were placed in the corners, decorated with various ornaments, from sparkling holly berries to live golden owls chirping incessantly. 

At the top of the tree sparkled a golden star, and beneath the tree were numerous gift boxes.

The most extravagant touch was the warm snowfall under the ceiling, creating a cozy Christmas atmosphere throughout the courtroom.

The wizards present were completely stunned. 

They couldn't believe that someone dared to do such a thing in the Wizengamot courtroom, nor could they believe that someone's summoning charm could be so powerful. 

For a while, they were all speechless.

Unexpectedly, sitting among them, Dumbledore also jokingly remarked.

"Great decorations. This reminds me of the Christmas feast at Hogwarts. However, with this, our attire doesn't quite fit the atmosphere."