Hogwarts Study Panel.

Chapter 604, Section 602: I Serve Mr. Hermes

"He will not give up easily; a new era has begun before us."

We need you to be a secret agent, to mobilize your resources when necessary.

Sirius's dark eyes were fixed on Scrimgeour.

"That's impossible. The Ministry of Magic will not become anyone's spy or subordinate."

Scrimgeour stepped forward, his eyes sharp, his beard trembling.

The old lion is angry.

If it weren't for the former fugitive in front of him finding his location and blocking him in an unexpected place, he would have already taken out his wand.

Now, he glanced at the dark streets around him, his wand already in his hand.

"Scrimgeour, we're on the same side."

Sirius let out a low sigh.

Scrimgeour remained rooted to the spot, his eyes fixed on Sirius.

In fact, Sirius's identity was also a reason why he stopped.

An upright person.

Sirius Black.

A person who willingly spent over a decade in Azkaban because of his own mistakes:

A man who swam alone from distant Azkaban to Scotland to save the orphan of his fallen comrade.

Such people are the most trustworthy in the Auror office.

"Don't you understand, Scrimgeour?"

Sirius said quietly, "The difficult times have come. People like us must unite. What could I possibly want from you? To infiltrate the Ministry of Magic? Nobody wants an organization doomed to collapse. Once he's fully risen to power, can the Ministry of Magic truly escape his control?"

Scrimgeour remained calm, staring intently at Sirius's haggard face.

"We've come to you simply to save some innocent lives."

Sirius's voice echoed through the empty streets, striking Scrimgeour's heart like a hammer: "Fudge is a good-for-nothing. He can't lead the Ministry of Magic through this dangerous period. And what we need you to do is simply save more people during these difficult times."

Sirius looked through Scrimgeour's face at the empty street.

A mile away, on a bustling commercial street in London, Muggles weaved through the noisy shops, completely oblivious to this enchanted area.

"If one day you find that our goals have changed, you are free to leave at any time."

Sirius's last words left Scrimgeour silent for a long time.

He felt he must be going crazy, otherwise why would he want to believe the wizard in front of him?

He didn't even know who was behind this group, or what the organization was called, or who its members were.

Why did you choose me?

He couldn't believe that this was a simple organization, given how easily they could find him and recruit someone like Sirius Black.

Scrimgeour saw Sirius laugh, laugh so hard he almost fell over.

"Sir, you were right. Look around, Scrimgeour, look at these Muggles."

Sirius said.

Scrimgeour frowned and followed his gaze.

"How harmonious, isn't it? This is what we want, ordinary, happy, ignorant—it's understandable that Fudge wants to maintain all of this, but he just forgets that."

This is not a treasure that can be obtained at will; quite the opposite, people fight in order to achieve harmony.

Sirius's voice was faint and eerie.

"Who exactly are you people?"

Scringer asked sternly.

"A group of people who will fight him to the end at all costs."

Sirius said.

Scrimgeour remained silent.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Take this."

Sirius smiled with relief and handed a mirror to Scrimgeour.

Scrimgeour could tell that this was a magic hand mirror, and it was the latest fifth-generation version.

It's normal for it to be used as a communication tool for an organization.

After the fifth generation was released, very few wizards were without a magic hand mirror.

"When needed, it will display all wizards within a ten-mile radius. If necessary, you can forcibly capture the image from the magic mirror. It's like surveillance, you know surveillance, right? A method Muggles use to search, investigate, and track criminals."

It will be very useful in a terrorist attack. However, you will only be granted access when necessary.

Sirius shrugged, ignoring the shock these words had given Scrimgeour. "At the same time, I need you to sign a magical contract to ensure that you use the Magic Hand Mirror to protect the people."

Scrimgeour's eyelids trembled rapidly, his body leaned forward slightly, and he uttered uneasily, "Where did you come from? This can't be, this is that—"

"We serve Mr. Hermes."

Sirius grinned and bowed deeply to the Magic Hand Mirror.

Scrimgeour felt many voices echoing in his mind, and it seemed he had inadvertently become involved in some deeper events.

But he quickly dispelled that feeling.

He wasn't involved; he was already in this magical world.

When Voldemort's power fully rises, no egg remains unbroken when the nest is overturned.

Thinking about it that way, this is actually excellent news.

The arrival of the other party proves that the esteemed, future greatest wizard will never stand on Voldemort's side.

That makes sense, since he was someone Dumbledore personally trained.

He seemed to relax a little, but then asked again in a hoarse voice, "Are you one of Dumbledore's men?"

"Oh,"

Sirius Black gave a cold laugh. "No need for such probing, Mr. Scrimgeour. But I can tell you, I am entirely Mr. Hermes' man."

Scrimgeour's worldview seems to have been shaken once again.

But he did not speak again.

"The Quidditch World Cup is highly likely to see riots; you need to secretly send more Aurors—"

Seeing his silence, Sirius continued, "Perhaps we can catch some criminals on the spot. His influence isn't strong yet, and every one we catch will make the wizarding world a little safer—at that time, Scrimgeour, the organization will need you at our beck and call—all for the people. Any more questions?"

Scrimgeour remained stiff for a while.

He did not refuse.

This mysterious organization, affiliated with some future greatest wizard, seems to know exactly what kind of person he is and what he desires.

He had no reason to refuse; he just hoped they were truly acting in the best interests of the people.

"—At least tell me the name of the organization."

95

He said.

"Stars,"

Sirius paused, his weathered face gleaming with a pair of deep pupils. He seemed to have returned to his childhood, gazing greedily and curiously at the sky. In that vast, boundless darkness, wizards always felt their own insignificance. "Those who convert, following this arduous journey, can reach the stars. Thus, the insignificant can sometimes achieve greatness."