Harry swallowed. "What the hell is this?"
"We believe in the Trinity: magic, gods, and bloodlines. This is the sacred blood granted to us by the gods—the blood of magic," the old man explained.
"Oh, I respect that, but sorry, I'm underage. I can't drink alcohol." Harry took a step back.
"Of course I know. This was prepared for me."
Harry let out a sigh of relief.
"I squeezed some orange juice for you," the old man said, dropping another bombshell.
"Huh?" Harry stared dumbfoundedly as the old man somehow produced a juicer that was barely cleaner than a glass from The Hog's Head. It was filled with orange-yellow liquid.
Another cup of blood-stained orange juice appeared before Harry.
"Please. Drink this cup of orange juice, and it will signify that your magic and bloodline are bound deeply to the gods from this day onward," the old man said without forcing him.
"Oh... can I choose not to drink it?" Harry took another step back.
"You may think we are a closed, backward wizarding organization... Please, don't deny it. I can tell. But rest assured, the Brotherhood of the Temple merely does not place importance on physical indulgence. You can instead find peace for your spirit and soul."
Harry frowned, but his brow soon relaxed again when he spotted a monocled figure who had appeared behind the old man at some point.
With his backing restored, he immediately displayed his gift for language. "To be honest, I'm deeply skeptical."
"I can clear up your doubts." The old man did not notice anything unusual and continued smiling.
"You say the Brotherhood of the Temple is far stronger than ordinary wizards? Then why do they occupy all of Europe while you're stuck in this tiny grove?" Harry once again asked a headache-inducing