At present, among the Auror squads, there was a secret special unit that served only the Minister for Magic.
Each of them had a phoenix tattooed on the back of their hand.
This unit had been formed when Spencer Moon took office, a force Dumbledore had given him to help him control the Ministry of Magic.
There might have been an element of surveillance to it, but Spencer Moon did not care, because he had always been Dumbledore's steadfast follower.
After Spencer Moon issued an order to assemble, he sank into the sofa and fell into thought.
The office door opened soundlessly without so much as a knock.
Twelve witches and wizards in black Wizard Robes and dark red masks filed inside.
"Leonard! What happened that made you order us to abandon all operations and come straight to your office?"
The leader of the special unit asked in a suppressed, hoarse voice. If not for his curvaceous figure, it would have been hard to imagine that voice coming from a witch.
Of course, perhaps he was not a witch after all. When it came to magic, no one could say for certain.
"In a conventional battle, we have no chance of winning."
Spencer Moon took a deep drag, exhaled a smoke ring, and spoke in a grave tone.
The leader's brows furrowed beneath his mask, and he nodded faintly. Whether he was agreeing with Spencer Moon or displeased by the smoke ring was unclear. In any case, after he nodded, the smoke silently contracted into a tiny ball.
The leader fell silent. He knew what was causing the massive casualties. Over the past few days, their unit had repeatedly disguised themselves among ordinary troops. Although they had helped some people survive life-or-death crises, compared to the countless island positions scattered