Chapter 274: Fresh Blood

On Friday night, as Harry lay on a soft bed, breathing in the faint scent of laundry detergent from the sheets, he felt peaceful and relaxed—this was as good as campus life could get.

Early Saturday morning, when Hedwig brought a letter from Sirius, reminding him to attend the Order's meeting in the afternoon, he couldn't help groaning: it was impossible for him to be a middle schooler who only had to worry about exams.

"Harry, where are you headed?" Ron asked, curious about his plans.

"I'm going to an Order of the Phoenix meeting—you know, a bunch of adults sitting around talking about how to deal with the Death Eaters." Harry shrugged.

"That's awesome—can I come?" Ron's eyes sparkled with hope.

Harry really didn't want to dampen his spirits; at least in his view, the Order's work seemed like nothing more than adults chatting, so why exclude these enthusiastic youths?

But the Order's headquarters was in Dumbledore's old house, said to be protected by the Fidelius Charm; whether from the nature of the organization or the nature of the charm itself, Harry didn't believe Ron could join this gathering.

"I'll try to introduce you to them," he said. "That way, next time we can go together."

In the end, Ron reluctantly stayed behind at school, while Harry went to the Three Broomsticks, shared a simple meal of grilled ribs and sweet corn with Sirius, then Apparated to Godric's Hollow to reach the Order's headquarters.

As soon as they arrived at the village entrance, they saw Elphias Doge craning his neck to look around. When he saw it was Harry and Sirius, he showed a faint hint of disappointment.

"Hey, Doge," Sirius greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, well, remember what we discussed last time?" he said. "A high-ranking Ministry official is coming. I mean, I'm torn—we obviously shouldn't casually expose the Order's headquarters, but if we don't, where else can we show sufficient sincerity?"

"The Ministry? To hell with it—I couldn't care less," Sirius sneered.

"Yes, you can afford to not care, but the Ministry represents legitimacy," Doge said, rubbing his hands nervously. "We can't let them see us as terrorists—we still need the Aurors' help."

"What help can Aurors even offer?" Sirius didn't hurry to leave; instead, he stood there and began talking to Doge. "Besides, their numbers are extremely limited."

"Exactly—the main point is, we don't plan to go to war, so even if the Aurors decide to help, it wouldn't matter," Harry said, then suddenly understood Doge a little better. "Oh right, conversely, precisely because we don't plan to go to war, we need the Ministry's official support."

"But even with official support, it wouldn't matter," Sirius shook his head. "Don't forget—we still need to find Horcruxes and eliminate the Death Eaters. Do you expect the Ministry's words to make Horcrux clues magically appear before us? Or will Death Eaters abandon their cause just because the Ministry approves of us?"

"On the contrary, the Ministry wants us to grovel like this," Sirius grumbled. "Let the Order and the Death Eaters compete under rules they set—no matter who wins, they'll be the biggest beneficiaries."

"Is that true?" Doge looked intently at Harry. "I thought they were on our side—after all, the Daily Prophet has been praising Harry for so long."

The three fell silent for a moment, when suddenly three figures appeared in the air. Harry looked closely and felt an immediate sense of familiarity: the leader was Johnny English, and the two behind him weren't entirely unknown to him—one was Bower, Johnny's deputy, whom he'd met once; the other was a new Auror whose name Harry couldn't quite recall, though he remembered seeing him walking with Johnny at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Hello, Harry," Johnny said solemnly, shaking Harry's hand, then nodded to Doge. "Hello, Elphias."

"Ah yes, you're…" He stared at Sirius, paused briefly, then asked quietly, "What's your name here?"

"Just call me Black," Sirius said.

"Yes, yes, fine—call me Black. The Black family is well-known; having a few extra people around is normal," Johnny said, clearly respecting the Ministry's official reports and insisting on denying the fact that "Sirius Black is at large."

"Let me introduce you: this is my assistant, Bower Bower; this is Elite Auror Kelaisite · Lindengwan," he said. "We're sending one Auror to join the Order to assist you—if you're willing to accept."

At that moment, the active Ministry Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived. When he saw Johnny, he paused slightly, then said calmly: "Aberforth has decided to move this meeting to the Hog's Head."

"Not bad," Sirius slung an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Hot or iced butterbeer?"

After a dizzying Apparition, they appeared inside the filthy, dilapidated Hog's Head. Harry shook his head, not noticing that many were watching him, and blurted out: "Iced."

He immediately regretted it when he saw Aberforth using a black rag—perhaps once pink—to wipe a glass caked with grease and wine stains, then placed it under the large barrel of butterbeer. Moments later, a cup of liquid thick with the smell of sheep was handed to Harry.

Fortunately, Elphias immediately began introducing the three Aurors, and everyone's attention quickly shifted to them—no one noticed whether Harry's lips had actually touched the cup.

"I think this is a meaningful step—we need official Auror assistance," Kingsley declared solemnly, as if his own Auror duties were temporary. "But the question is: what should the Auror actually do?"

"I need to remind you," Johnny interrupted, "only one Auror will stay—the Ministry has allocated only one slot."

"Bower is my assistant, thoroughly trained by me—his thinking and action are on par with mine," Johnny said proudly. "And this one, Kelaisite, is a newcomer—I don't know why the Minister insisted I bring him, but he's certainly a qualified Auror—which one do you want to stay?"

" Kelaisite," Kingsley said without hesitation, while Harry anxiously tugged at his sleeve.

"I think Kelaisite should stay," Doge added.

"Clearly, the tasks ahead suit someone like Kelaisite," Sirius immediately chimed in.

"Oh?" Johnny's face showed a flicker of disappointment, but he shrugged quickly. "Fine then—we'll head back to the Ministry. Good luck to you all."

After they left, Sirius leaned down and whispered softly to Harry: "We all know English is a fool—even he probably knows it."

Harry glanced at Kelaisite, who clearly seemed sharp and capable.

"So if we picked Bower, we'd be telling the Ministry we have no intention of cooperating," he whispered. "Choosing Kelaisite, then giving him something that looks meaningful but has no real impact—and can go on indefinitely—is far more suitable."

"Actually, there's already something you can help with," Lupin spoke up. "Could you make us some drinks? I'm not saying Aberforth does it badly—just occasionally, try the younger generation's taste."

"I only know how to juice fruit," Kelaisite shrugged.

"Fruit juice is fine," Harry quietly set his cup on the windowsill—it looked like sheep urine, smelled like sheep urine, and tasted like sheep urine. He didn't understand why the barrel bore the words "butterbeer."

"I assume everyone's read the papers—I mean, since Harry Potter enjoys such a good reputation," Doge said, "and the Prophet and the Aurors are part of the same system… Kelaisite, why don't you help Harry?"

"Sure," Kelaisite said, slicing watermelon rapidly. "What's Harry's current task?"

Harry and the others exchanged glances—he himself had no idea what his task was.

"He's forming Dumbledore's Army," someone who clearly read the papers said.

"But since it's Harry doing it," Kelaisite began washing a large glass jug, "why not call it Potter's Savior Army?"

"Actually, there are three reasons for this name," Harry said, prepared for the question. "First, Dumbledore's Army shows our respect and remembrance for Headmaster Dumbledore; second, one of its key goals is to find a way to free the imprisoned Headmaster Dumbledore; third, we hope Death Eaters will tremble at the sight of Dumbledore's Army members, just as they would at the sight of the real Dumbledore."

"That's wonderful," Doge murmured weakly.

"I'm selecting brave, justice-minded students to join this group," Harry said, his words flowing more easily now—he felt a new idea forming. "If we can get an Auror's help, I think it would be excellent. I'd like you to come by occasionally to teach the students dueling techniques and defensive spells."

"I'm planning to train Dumbledore's Army as an outer circle of the Order, and later recruit outstanding members into the Order itself," Harry said, speaking on impulse—but he thought it was perfect: it would give Ron and the others a sense of involvement, keep followers like Seamus or Colin occupied, and most importantly, keep Kelaisite, the Ministry's spy, away from Horcrux matters.

"Dumbledore's Army" was precisely such a thing—"seemingly meaningful, actually insignificant, and endlessly sustainable."

"Alright," Kelaisite nodded. "What do I do when I'm not teaching? Need help running the Hog's Head?"