When Harry and Mr. Weasley came out of Black's mansion together, the sky was just getting a little light. When I looked up, it was gray, and the air seemed to be soaked with night dew, revealing the cold of the early morning.

The two walked in staggered steps, gently skirting the square and heading out of the residential area.

"Where's the Ministry of Magic? How do we get there? After taking two silent steps, Harry asked as if trying to loosen his tense nerves.

"No one knows exactly where it is, only that it is deep underground...... Employees like us usually go to work with apparitions," Mr. Weasley explained casually, "but apparently you don't. ”

"Also, we'd better go there through the visitor entrance, after all, you're going to be interrogated, and it's better to use it without magic, so as not to make a bad impression on the normal Ministry of Magic staff."

Mr. Weasley walked with one hand in his jacket, and Harry knew he must have a wand in his hand.

There was almost no one on the dilapidated streets, and the floor tiles were a little wet, as if there had been a light rain last night.

But when they walked into the shabby and inconspicuous subway station, they found it already crowded with Muggle passengers who had gone to work in the morning.

Mr. Weasley had always been particularly fond of Muggles and Muggle machinery, which was the biggest reason why he stayed in the "Division for the Prohibition of the Abuse of Muggle Supplies" without complaining.

Now that both were in place, it was no wonder that he had a hard time suppressing his deep interest—every time he found himself close to the Muggles who were going about their day-to-day business.

"It's incredible," he excitedly said, pointing to the ticket vending machine in front of him, "it's amazing!" ”

"It's broken." Harry pointed to the sign.

"Really? But even so, it's ......," said Mr. Weasley, looking fondly at the malfunctioning ticket machines.

"We have to buy tickets...... I mean, Mr. Weasley......"

Harry had to tug at Mr. Weasley to get him to look away from the ticket machines.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry asked helplessly, "and lo and behold! We've got to buy tickets—"

"Oh!" Mr. Weasley then turned around and said, "Yes, buy a ticket!" I probably remember that......" he said, pulling a handful of pounds out of his pocket and looking at it over and over, "uh...... I've been wondering for a long time, but I still can't tell the face value of these Muggle currencies......"

"Let me do it!" Harry reached out and took the handful of colorful pounds, looked up and asked, "By the way, where are we going?" ”

"Central London," replied Mr. Weasley at once, "well, if I remember correctly—this is the first time I've gone through the visitors' entrance." ”

Hearing Mr. Weasley say this, Harry couldn't help but pray in his heart, I hope he won't be late for a while because he can't find the entrance!

Bought a subway ticket from a sleepy-eyed administrator, and five minutes later, they boarded the subway. The old Underground carried them on a clangling ground towards central London.

In the subway car, Mr. Weasley checked the subway route map above the window over and over again; Harry cautiously slipped his right hand into his left sleeve and quickly pulled it out.

On his face, an inexplicable look faintly flashed.

"There are four more stops...... Harry now has three stops...... Two more stops, Harry......"

Under Mr. Weasley's curious and nervous thoughts, the Muggle passengers around him looked at him with puzzled expressions. Clearly, his neurotic muttering was noticeably louder.

"Mr. Weasley, we won't miss the site, let's just sit down." Harry couldn't help it, so he lowered his voice and reminded, "They're all looking at you!" ”

"Oh! Are you sure? Mr. Weasley immediately pulled his gaze back from the road map and looked around, "Seriously, I actually want to make a few Muggle friends......

They got off the train at a stop in central London.

The downtown subway platform was of course bustling and crowded, with Harry and Mr. Weasley being pushed out of the subway by countless well-dressed men and women carrying briefcases.

"Oh! If I hadn't known that Muggles couldn't do magic, I would have thought it was a magical staircase. Standing on the escalator with Harry, Mr. Weasley wasted no time in admiring.

"Wow! This little thing is awesome! ”

As they passed through the turnstile at the ticket gate, Mr. Weasley, who had personally experienced being swallowed by the ticket gate, couldn't help but clap his hands with a smile.

By the time they left the subway station and came onto a wide street, it was already dark.

The streets are lined with majestic buildings, shops and large billboards, and the streets are already full of traffic.

"What is this place?"

Standing on the side of the street, looking at the crowds and vehicles coming and going, Mr. Weasley was at a loss.

"What?"

Harry thought that despite Mr. Weasley's frequent check-checking of the subway map, they had gotten off the wrong station, and his heart stopped beating in fright.

Fortunately, Mr. Weasley said, "Ah! Oh...... By the way, this way, Harry. ”

With that, he turned and led Harry some distance before turning into a fork in the street.

"I'm sorry," Mr. Weasley said excitedly, unlike Harry's nervousness, "I've never taken the subway!" And, from a Muggle point of view, everything is completely different. ”

“…… Honestly, I almost thought I had become a Muggle! ”

As they walked on, the buildings on both sides of the street were generally much lower. This is true in both the wizarding world and the Muggle world, where mevality and even rudimentary are the dominant tone of the world at the moment when people deviate from the concentration of money.

Eventually, they came to a bleak side street with only a few shabby-looking offices, a tavern, and a dump truck that was about to overflow.

On the opposite side, there is a small parking lot with only a dilapidated private car.

Harry had thought the Ministry of Magic was in a much more imposing place! It seems that they are more likely to avoid too much contact with Muggles.

"Here we are." Mr. Weasley said happily, pointing to a dilapidated red telephone booth with several pieces of glass missing.

The phone booth had a smeared wall against the back.

Glancing inadvertently, Harry also saw some small rectangular stickers taped to the wall, and the pictures on the stickers made him blush, and then looked away with difficulty.

"You go in first, Harry." Mr. Weasley stepped forward and reached open the door to the phone booth.

Harry walked in suspiciously, and when he was puzzled, Mr. Weasley squeezed in and stood beside him, slamming the door behind him.

It's really crowded!

Harry was squeezed against a wall-mounted coin-operated phone, which hung crookedly from the wall, as if some vandal had tried to rip it off.

Mr. Weasley reached over Harry's shoulder and reluctantly picked up the receiver of the phone.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry couldn't help but say, "I think the phone might be broken......

"No, no, the Ministry of Magic will send someone to inspect and maintain important magical items like this on a regular basis." Mr. Weasley said, holding the microphone above his head, his eyes looking at the rotating dial, "Let me think about ......"

"This ...... Well, here comes next...... And this, and this, and this ......."

As the dial pad "clicked" again and again, and then automatically reset, an indifferent female voice rang out in the phone booth.

But Harry felt that the voice was not coming from the microphone that Mr. Weasley was holding, it was loud and clear, as if an invisible woman was standing beside them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name and reason for visiting."

"Huh?" Mr. Weasley looked at the receiver in his hand, and then at the crooked telephone, apparently unsure where to speak.

After a few moments of hesitation, he put the earpiece to his mouth and said, "Arthur Weasley, the Department for the Prohibition of the Misuse of Muggle Objects - he came with Harry Potter, and the Ministry asked him to stand trial. ”

"Thank you," said the indifferent woman, "Guest, please take the badge and pin it in front of your shirt." ”

With a flurry of movement, Harry saw a small object slip out of the metal groove in the return slot.

He picked it up: it was a boxy silver badge with the words "Harry Potter, on trial" written on it.

As Harry pinned himself to his T-shirt with the badge, the woman's voice rang out again.

"Guests of the Ministry of Magic, you will need to be screened at the security checkpoint and register your wand - the security checkpoint is located at the end of the main hall."

Before the words fell, the ground of the phone booth suddenly shook, and they slowly sank into the ground.

Harry watched in amazement as the sidewalk outside the glass partition wall of the phone booth rose higher and higher, and soon it was pitch black and nothing could be seen.

In the darkness, only the cacophony of grinding that lingered in their ears proved that they were still moving. But if he was still moving vertically, Harry couldn't answer at all.

It was about a minute, but it felt much longer than that.

He couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when a thin golden light hit Harry's feet.

Then, the golden light gradually widened and extended to his body. Soon, Harry had to squint his eyes in order to adjust to the sudden light.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a nice day."

As the cold female voice finished her last sentence, the door to the phone booth slammed open. Mr. Weasley was the first to walk out, and Harry followed, barely closing his mouth in amazement at what was going on.

But even so, he subconsciously touched his sleeve.