Chapter 276: Secret Passage

After a moment's hesitation, Harry decided he might as well pay a visit to the Death Eaters—partly out of curiosity and idle time, partly to subtly probe Lucius and gauge the current state of the Death Eaters, so he could consider how to maximize the diary's utility.

"Then it's settled—we'll pick you up at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow at noon," Sirius said.

"If we have meetings like this every week," Harry said with a sigh, "we'll grow tired of the Three Broomsticks' food before long."

"I admit this is the only time I miss Kreacher," Sirius said, his expression complicated.

When Harry returned to school, Ron eagerly asked about his progress. Harry replied, "Oh right—we held a meeting all day and got almost nowhere. The only thing confirmed was that I need to form Dumbledore's Army at school."

Ron turned his head, frowning, looking unconvinced.

"You have to understand, Ron—adults' world works like this," Harry sat down and uncorked a bottle of pumpkin juice. "They hold meetings, assign tasks, and hardly anyone makes real progress."

"Like how hardly anyone finishes their homework," Ron sighed, spreading out his parchment. "I could praise Harry Potter all I want, but I really can't write this essay on moonstone."

"Then just stick with this approach," Harry glanced at the few lines he'd written—Ron had already listed key points. "Use what you've got to praise moonstone."

"You mean it doesn't have to be true—just convincing enough?" Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "Maybe I'll make up a story about Harry Potter using moonstone to brew a potion that saved a classmate—then I could sell it to others."

"You used the word 'sell,'" Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Clearly Fred and George set a bad example."

"But we can't copy Percy, right?" Ron suddenly grinned, as if recalling something funny. "Mum says Percy's coming home later and later—he's got nothing to do at the Ministry, he just wants his bosses to think he's working hard."

"Not unreasonable," Harry commented. "But seriously, do you know the strategic purpose behind forming Dumbledore's Army?"

"Train students as a fighting force to oppose the Death Eaters?" Ron said naturally.

"No, no—students are innocent and likely lack the power. We just need people to believe this is a fighting force meant to oppose the Death Eaters." Harry shook his head.

"So you plan to deceive the Death Eaters into deterrence?"

"We plan to deceive the Ministry!" Harry retorted. "The Death Eaters know students lack real power!"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Ron said with a resigned look. "You want the Ministry to think you're training an army and preparing for war, so you can hide your search for Horcruxes—is that it?"

"Exactly. So I'm planning to start secret meetings this week. How about we check out a location first?"

They reached the eighth-floor corridor, where a tapestry of a troll dancing ballet had once hung—but now it was replaced by a large realistic painting titled "Hogwarts Will Not Fall."

In the painting, Neville repeatedly slashed at a snake, while Voldemort and Dumbledore's spells clashed in fierce sparks. Harry gazed at the painting and naturally recalled his own lie, his emotions growing complex.

But perhaps it's better this way—when I walk further down the path of lies, this painting will remind me of why I started. Harry thought this as he walked to the white wall opposite the painting.

"We need a place to practice dueling—a secret training ground…" he murmured, pacing before the wall.

"I've never been to the Room of Requirement before," Ron said, stepping forward and turning the doorknob. Then he exclaimed in delight, "Better than I imagined."

Along the wall stood a row of wooden bookshelves; no chairs, but large satin cushions lay on the floor. At the far end, shelves held various instruments—Detective Mirrors, Scrying Devices—and a massive floor-length mirror. Harry remembered that Zhang Qiu had once "borrowed" it as furniture for the Chamber.

"I think these books are the most valuable," Ron said. "I probably won't read them myself, but I'm eager for you to teach everyone after you finish."

"Let me see?" Harry stepped forward. "'Common Spells and Counter-Spells'… 'Outwitting Dark Magic'… 'Defensive Spell Collection'—these are all good."

"But more importantly, we've brought in an Auror—a Ministry Auror," Harry said. "Rather than letting him lurk in the Order to spy on them, we should use him to teach the students."

"Really? But how will he get in?" Ron asked. "Through a secret passage?"

Harry was startled—right after Ron finished speaking, a dark, gaping hole appeared on the wall where the floor-length mirror had stood.

"You didn't," Harry slowly stepped forward, "just summon a secret passage?"

Ron joined him, and the two stared curiously at the passage. Then they exchanged glances, and Ron prepared to crawl inside.

"Wait," Harry said. "Put on the Invisibility Cloak."

Since learning the Undetectable Extension Charm, Harry had carried the Invisibility Cloak everywhere—it weighed almost nothing, perhaps made from the very concept of concealment.

They advanced down the passage. Gradually, faint voices became clearer. Harry grabbed Ron's arm; they sat in the corridor and listened in silence.

"I remember you were sued," a voice said. "For an improper spell on a goat."

"Don't bring that up," a gruff voice replied.

Harry quickly recognized the speakers: Auror Caiester and Aberforth.

"I'm just curious—what spell was so bad people wanted to sue you?" Caiester asked. "You didn't use it to experiment with the Cruciatus Curse, did you?"

"Probably not—we all know you're a good man," Caiester quickly dismissed the thought. "But what else could it be?"

"Stop asking. Just wipe the glasses."

"By the way, you've always smelled like goat, and you do keep a goat," Caiester continued. "Aberforth, are you really that fond of goats?"

"Yes. My Patronus is a goat."

Silence fell. Ron seemed ready to move forward, but Harry paused, then held him back.

"Aberforth, have you never married all these years?" Caiester resumed.

"No."

"Not even when you were young?"

"No."

"Strange. Every young man likes girls—oh right, you like goats."

"I just remembered a classic joke," Caiester said after a brief pause. "There was an ancient wizard born with the gift of understanding animal speech. One day he stayed overnight at a Muggle farmer's house. He told the farmer his ability, but the farmer didn't believe him. So the wizard walked into the turkey pen and came out saying, 'A wise turkey told me food falls from the sky every day at eleven.' The farmer was skeptical—he was the one who fed the turkeys at eleven every day."

"Then the wizard went into the cowshed and came out saying, 'The bull there misses being milked—he envies the cows that get milked often.' The farmer began to believe him. Then the wizard noticed a sheep beside the shed, and the farmer immediately shouted: 'That sheep is a liar!'"

Aberforth didn't laugh. Harry and Ron in the passage were utterly confused—they had no idea what the joke meant.

"Hey, I didn't plan to tell you, but the truth is—I have a son," Aberforth sighed heavily.

"Where is he now?"

"Dead. Died long ago," Aberforth said bluntly. "A Obscurus. Nothing could be done. He lived that long already was a miracle."

"What about the mother? Didn't she try to have another child? And why didn't you mention this earlier?"

"Because she was a Muggle. She died shortly after giving birth."

"That doesn't make sense. You mean you didn't marry her because you were ashamed of having a Muggle wife?" Caiester's Auror mind was sharp, though his emotional intelligence seemed low.

Of course, for Harry and Ron listening in the passage, they hoped his emotional intelligence was even lower.

"Do members of the Order discriminate against Muggles?" Caiester asked. "I don't think so—or are you not truly a righteous man, and people only respect you because of Albus?"

"Of course not! I've never discriminated against Muggles, and my position in the Order has nothing to do with Albus!" Aberforth shouted, agitated.

"Then why didn't you introduce your Muggle wife to me from the start?"

"Because—because she was killed by Voldemort. I don't want to speak of her—that's why I oppose Dark wizards," Aberforth's voice grew uneasy. Even just listening, Harry sensed he was lying.

"Actually, I just remembered something—an Obscurus is a sign of excessive magical talent. In other words, only wizard-wizard unions can produce an Obscurus. A wizard-Muggle child cannot become one," Caiester pressed on.