For those who are new to the structure of the Ministry of Magic, it may be a little difficult to understand for a moment. The atrium, which is the "face" of the Ministry of Magic, is located on the eighth basement floor, and the entire Ministry of Magic seems to have a total of ten floors.

However, if the entire basement level 1 to 8 were "pulled out" from underground, it would not be much different from the layering concept of Muggle architecture.

As he got used to the brightness around him, Harry found himself standing in the middle of a wide, winding passageway.

Although the passage is actually very spacious, it becomes crowded when there are many people.

Countless gilded fireplaces line this arched passage of unknown black brick, stretching out from front to back.

Every few seconds, with a soft "poof" and a bright green flame slamming up, a wizard popped out of one of the fireplaces on the left.

On the right, it seems that someone is getting into it all the time, sprinkling Floo powder and leaving.

In the midst of such a busy scene, Harry intuitively felt that the Ministry of Magic was indeed the central authority governing the magical community of a country.

“…… No wonder Maca would say something as sure as 'Voldemort couldn't have completely penetrated the Ministry of Magic'. He looked at the dense crowd around him and secretly breathed a sigh of relief in his heart.

Walk on a polished dark wood floor, overhead a dome made of black brick inlaid with glittering gold symbols.

The symbols are constantly moving and changing, like a giant bulletin board.

Further on, you will soon see a circular fountain with a large set of solid gold statues erected in the middle of the pool.

The tallest of them was a noble wizard who held a wand high and pointed the tip of it to the sky; Surrounding him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf.

The centaurs, elves, and house-elves all looked up at the two wizards with infinite adoration, and beams of shining water shot out from the tips of the wizards' wands, from the centaurs' bows and arrows, from the tips of the elves' hats, and from the ears of the house-elves.

Nearby, the sound of running water, the explosion of apparitions, and the chaotic footsteps of hundreds of witches and wizards mingled together, sounding a little messy.

Many of the wizards were meticulously dressed, but their faces wore the lifeless air of the morning, and they strode towards the row of golden gates at the other end.

"This way." Mr. Weasley said.

They huddled in the crowd of Ministry of Magic staff and visitors of all kinds, some carrying crumbling piles of parchment in their arms, others carrying old briefcases, others holding a copy of the Daily Prophet as they walked and read.

As he passed the fountain, Harry saw a number of glittering silver sico and bronze at the bottom of the clear pool, and a small smudged sign next to it read: All proceeds from the Fountain of the Magic Brothers are donated to St. Mungo's Hospital for the Injured and Wounded of Magic.

"If the review can be successfully passed...... No, I'm here on a mission, and I'm saving the Ministry of Magic after all...... Probably, right? Harry thought for a moment, then said silently, "If today's mission can be successfully completed, I will put ten gold gallons in it...... Oh no—"

"What are you thinking, Harry?" Seeing Harry slow down as he looked at the coins under the pool, Mr. Weasley reached out and patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Although the money in this pool hasn't been touched for a long time, you can't beat their minds!" ”

"What?" Harry didn't seem to be able to hear Mr. Weasley clearly, "I wonder if I want to have a greater wish, like - save the world or something?" ”

"This way, Harry."

Mr. Weasley spoke, leading Harry away from the crowd and towards the left.

At a table, a sign that reads "Security Check" sits underneath a shaved wizard in a peacock blue robe with an uncleanly beard.

As Harry and the others approached, he looked up and put down the newspaper in his hand.

"I brought a guest." Mr. Weasley said and gestured to Harry.

"Come over here." The wizard said in a lethargic tone.

Harry, who had just recovered from the glittering atrium, was about to catch up with the sign, and he was nervous.

"Focus, focus!" Harry reminded himself.

He shook his sleeve lightly while the wizard yawned, and an inconspicuous little thing immediately fell to his feet.

The next moment, the wizard lifted a long, slender golden stick and swept it across Harry's chest and back.

"Wand."

The security wizard muttered at Harry, put down the golden thing, and held out his hand to him.

Harry was secretly relieved that he immediately drew his wand and handed it over.

The wizard had just thrown it on a grotesque-looking brass machine that looked like a single-disc scale, and the machine began to vibrate slightly.

Soon, a narrow strip of parchment spat out quickly from the opening at the bottom.

The wizard tore off the paper and read the words:

"Eleven inches, the core of the staff is a phoenix feather, and it took four years...... Is that right? ”

"That's right." Harry replied nervously.

"I'll keep this," said the wizard, poking the parchment note against a small brass spike, "you take this back." ”

He slipped his wand into Harry's hand.

"Thank you."

Harry finally let go of his clenched teeth, and he stomped his heel lightly as Maca had said, pausing for two seconds before lifting his foot to leave the place with Mr. Weasley.

"Wait," the wizard said slowly.

What's wrong? Did he notice? Obviously there is nothing wrong?

Harry stiffened slightly, and moved his shoulders a little unnaturally, as he felt a burning sensation on his scalp and back.

The wizard's gaze was suspicious, and he subconsciously looked up from the silver guest badge on Harry's chest to his forehead.

"Thank you, Eric."

Mr. Weasley dropped a sentence flatly, then grabbed Harry by the shoulders and led him out of the place back into the crowd.

The further forward they went, the more crowded they became, as if they were all gathered in one place, and they were almost "pushed" by the crowd through the gate and into a smaller hall.

There are at least twenty elevators, separated by gold fence doors carved with intricately patterned patterns.

Harry followed Mr. Weasley to the crowd in front of one of the elevators.

Next to them, stood a large, bearded wizard who was holding a large cardboard box in his arms, which occasionally made a cacophony of rubbing sounds.

"Are you alright, Arthur?" The wizard nodded at Mr. Weasley.

"What's it in there, Bob?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking curiously at the cardboard box.

"Not sure yet." The wizard named Bob said solemnly, "We thought it was an ordinary chicken, but we didn't expect it to breathe fire!" In my opinion, this seems to be a serious violation of the decree on the prohibition of animal breeding experiments......"

With a clattering sound, the elevator car landed in front of them.

When the golden fence door gently slid open, a large crowd of people poured into the elevator, and no one here cared if some thrilling accident would happen because of being overweight.

When Harry found himself overwhelmed, he couldn't help but feel nostalgic for the "little bit" of crowding in the phone booth before.

Several wizards around him looked at him curiously.

Harry looked down at his toes, avoiding eye contact with others, and was especially careful to make room for his legs, so much so that he didn't even have time to worry about messy bangs.

The fence door slammed shut, the elevator slowly ascended, and the chain rattled. Then, the cold female voice that Harry had heard in the phone booth rang again.

"The seventh floor, the Department of Magical Sports, contains the headquarters of the British and Irish Quidditch League, the official Gobstone Club, and the Office of Patents for Funny Products."

The elevator door opened, and Harry struggled to catch a glimpse of a jumbled hallway with various Quidditch posters plastered around the walls.

A wizard with a broomstick struggled to squeeze out and disappeared down the hallway.

The fence door closed again, the elevator swayed slightly and continued to rise, and the female voice continued, "The sixth floor, the Magical Traffic Division, contains the Floo Network Administration, the Broomstick Management and Control Bureau, the Portkey Office, and the Phantom Apparition Test Center. ”

The elevator door was opened again, and four or five wizards walked out. At the same time, several lilac paper airplanes whizzed into the elevator and slowly circled over the heads of the passengers.

Harry also saw what appeared to be the "Ministry of Magic" stamp on the edge of the wing.

"That's a note that is used to pass messages between departments." Mr. Weasley whispered to him, "I used to use owls, and it was unbelievably dirty—there was feces all over the desk." ”

As the elevator continued to rise, a group of people would go out every time it stopped on the first floor, and the paper airplane notes became fewer and fewer, and by the time they reached the Magical Accidents and Disasters Division on the third floor, almost all of them went out.

Now only Mr. Weasley, Harry, and another witch were left in the elevator.

Incidentally, the witch was reading a deadly long scroll of parchment that had been dragged to the ground.

"If Ron had seen him, he probably wouldn't have chosen to work at the Ministry of Magic in his life......" Harry couldn't help but think.

At that moment, with another tremor, the elevator stopped rising again.