"Good morning, Weasley," Kingsley greeted cautiously as they approached. "Do you have a second, I have something to say to you. ”

"Yes, if it's a second," said Mr. Weasley, "I'm a little busy right now. They were talking, but it seemed difficult to communicate, and when Harry tried to say hello to Kensley, Mr. Weasley stepped on Harry's foot. They followed Kingsley all the way to the innermost private room.

To Harry's surprise, there were so many photographs that looked like a reference room, and Harry even found a picture of Sirius in the corner.

"Here," Kingsley said crudely to Mr. Weasley, shoving a bundle of parchment into Mr. Weasley's hand.

"Over the past twelve months I've been gathering as much information as I can about Muggle flying engines. We've received reports that Blake is still using his old motorcycle. ”

Kingsley winked at Harry a few times, then added in a whisper, "Give him that magazine, and he'll find it interesting." ”

Then he said in his normal tone, "Don't delay too long, Weasley, the delay in that ham report has cost us a month of investigation." ”

"If you read my report, you should know that thing is the Fire Arm," Mr. Weasley said coldly, "and I'm afraid you'll have to wait for news of the motorcycle, we're busy at the moment." ”

He lowered his voice and said, "If you can leave before seven o'clock, Molly made meatballs." ”

It looked like a secret deal by an agent, and while Harry didn't know what Sirius's picture meant by appearing in a corner of the Auror's office, it was interesting that the Ministry of Magic would embarrass Sirius for an unrelated Muggle item?

Or......

The motorcycle belonged to Hagrid......

He led Harry out of Kingsley's studio, through the second oak door into another unit, turned left, through the next hallway, and then right into a dimly lit, visibly dilapidated hallway. They finally reached a cul-de-sac, with a slightly open door to their left, which was an open broomcupboard, and on the right door hung a nasty tarnished brass sign that read: Inappropriate Use of Muggle Items Office.

Mr. Weasley's scruffy office looked a little smaller than the broom cabinet opposite. Two desks were crammed inside, and against the wall lay a cabinet full of stuffed things, just enough space in the middle for them to barely get through, and at the top of each cabinet was a large pile of papers. In the small space left on the wall lay several things that fascinated Mr. Weasley: several pictures of cars, including an engine that had been disassembled, two illustrations of mailboxes cut out of Muggle children's books, and a diagram showing how to wrap around sockets.

On the desk across from Mr. Weasley was a picture of an old drunkard, gloomy with a full burp and an empty pair of leather gloves playing with his thumb. Next to the plate is a family photo of the Weasleys.

Harry noticed that Percy seemed to have walked away from inside.

"We don't have windows here," Mr. Weasley said apologetically. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair, "We applied, but they don't seem to think we need a window here, Harry, look no further, Perkins hasn't come yet." ”

As Mr. Weasley snapped through the parchment that Kingsley had just handed him, Harry was squeezing into the chair behind Perkins' desk.

"Huh," Weasley smiled as he plucked something from a magazine called nitpicking, "yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will find it funny—oh dear, what time is it?"

An internal email had just flown in through the open door and landed on the picture of the burping drunk. Mr. Weasley opened the letter and read it aloud.

Bisnell Green reports on the third return to the public restroom. It's ridiculous."

"A backflow bathroom?"

"Anti-Muggle jokes," Mr. Weasley said with a frown, "we dealt with two last week, one at Wimbledon and one at Elephant Castle. Everything disappeared when Muggles were about to flush - yes, you can imagine. This keeps on coming up -- I think they should be called plumbers -- you know, the people who specialize in fixing pipes. ”

"Plumber?"

"Right, yes, of course they will be embarrassed and just hope that we will catch a few of the perpetrators. ”

"Won't the Aurors go and arrest them?"

"Oh no, these things are too trivial to alarm the Aurors, it's under the jurisdiction of the General Magical Law Enforcement Patrol - ah, Harry, this is Perkins. ”

A hunchbacked, shy old wizard with a gray beard and panting for breath happened to enter the room.

"Oh, Arthur!" he cried out desperately, not looking at Harry, "thank God, I don't know what best to do with this, whether to wait for you to come." I just sent an owl to your house, but apparently you didn't receive it—an urgent letter from ten minutes ago—"

"I know, it's about the return bathroom," Mr. Weasley said.

"No, no, it's about the hearing of Potter's son—they've changed the time and place—it's going to be held at eight o'clock now, in the old Courtroom No. 10 downstairs—"

"Ten ...... downstairs But they told me—Merlin's beard!,Mr. Weasley looked at his watch, let out a scream, and jumped out of his chair. "Quick, Harry, we should be there five minutes ago!"

Perkins pressed his back to the cupboard to get Mr. Weasley out of the office, Harry following closely behind.

"Why did they change the time?" Harry asked breathlessly as they made their way through the Auror room. People turned their heads out of the way and watched them pass by. Harry felt all his senses still stuck at Perkins' desk.

"I don't know, but thank God we came early enough, and if you miss the hearing, the consequences will be catastrophic!" Mr. Weasley slammed to the brakes in front of an elevator and frantically poked the descent button.

"Come on!" the elevator clicked into view, and they quickly ran inside. Every time the elevator stopped, Mr. Weasley cursed in annoyance and slammed his fist on the button on the ninth floor.

"Those tribunals haven't been used for years," Mr. Weasley said angrily, "and I can't think of why they're holding hearings there—unless—but no—"

Just then, a fat witch walks into the elevator with a smoking goblet, and Mr. Weasley doesn't look at her closely.

"Atrium," said a cold female voice, and the golden lattice door opened, and Harry glanced at the fountain with the golden statue from afar. The fat witch walked out, and a vegetable-skinned wizard came in with a sad face.

"Good morning, Arthur," he said in a bury tone as the elevator began to descend, "not often you can be seen coming down here. ”

"Urgent, Body," Mr. Weasley said, his feet stomping anxiously and looking at Harry worriedly.

"Ah, yes," Bodi looked at Harry without blinking, "of course. ”

Harry was barely in the mood to Ribodi right now, and his unblinking stare wouldn't make Harry feel more comfortable.

"Mystical Department," the female voice said as the door opened. "Hurry up, Harry," Mr. Weasley said as the irritating elevator door opened.

They scurried through a hallway. This hallway looks completely different from the one above. The walls are bare, with neither windows nor doors, except for a black drawing of the prairie at the end of the corridor.

Harry thought they were going to get out of here, but Mr. Weasley grabbed his hand and dragged him to the left, where there was an open staircase tread.

"Down here, down here," Mr. Weasley exclaimed, panting, as he rushed down one step at a time.

"The elevator can't go down so far, why are they doing this here, I ......"

They ran to the bottom of the stairs and down another hallway, which bore many nasty similarities to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

They all have rough stone walls and torches protruding from the walls. Here they passed by heavy wooden doors with iron bolts and keyholes.

"Trial Court Ten, I think we're almost there...... Yes. Mr. Weasley braked hard in front of a dirty, black door with a large lock, leaning against the wall, exhausted, his hands clutching tightly to his chest.

"Go in," he said, panting, and pointing to this door with his thumb.

"This is it. ”

"It's not—won't you come in with me——?"

"No, no, I'm not allowed to enter, but don't worry, like I said before, you didn't do anything wrong, but I have to remind you not to say superfluous things during the trial, it's good for you, what they ask, you just have to answer truthfully, after all, we have nothing to fear...... Good luck!"

Harry nodded, his chest heaving violently twice, as if trying to calm himself down and digest what he had been taught.

It didn't seem to work, though, at least that's what Harry himself thought, and no amount of thought worked when faced with this old door.

Harry felt his heart beat to his throat, his mouth was parched and he had trouble swallowing, turned the heavy iron doorknob and walked into the courtroom.