The Weasley family is uninhibited on the surface, but in fact they also have a delicate side. As to why Neil is here, Mr. Weasley says only one thing from beginning to end: I'm going to take him to the ministry tomorrow. Nothing else explained. But until the next day, no one came to inquire about what had happened to him. Only Percy, with a jealous and stammering expression, secretly asked Neil if he had any relatives in important positions in the ministry - this kind of obsession with climbing up the ladder without even a dagger, and so bright that it was so bright that it was intimidating, was surprisingly not very annoying.

Perhaps under pressure from Dumbledore, the Ministry of Magic was not very tough on the summons, and did not even give a specific time request on the letter, only telling Neil that he had to come before the end of the summer vacation. It's just that, according to Mr. Weasley, the sooner you go, the easier it is to make a good impression.

Neil partially agreed, not caring much about what the Ministry of Magic thought of him. In his opinion, in the current situation, it was only a matter of time before the ostrich-like bureaucrats who thought they would be fine with their heads in the sand and Dumbledore parted ways, and that he himself would definitely be on the employer's side, so he had no interest in wasting his energy to curry favor with those men.

However, it's a good idea to end this trouble sooner rather than later. Although the odds were slim, he didn't want to risk the Philosopher's Stone being discovered, and the sooner he got himself out of the list of inexplicable suspects, the safer the secret would be.

The two men left the Burrow early in the morning, and instead of using Floo.com, Mr. Weasley took him to a room at the back of the house...... For the sake of primate dignity, we don't want to call it a garage, a patchwork of broken wooden planks.

"I usually use Transfiguration to go to work." Mr. Weasley explained as he walked, "But Dumbledore told me that it was best not to risk taking you with me...... I don't know why, but I think I should listen to him."

"So." He pushed open the garage door and pointed to a vintage turquoise sedan parked inside, his expression as excited as a child's words that had just gotten a new toy, "Let's drive it."

Without saying a word, Neil walked around him and circled the car, scrutinizing it with the scrutiny of a connoisseur.

"Anglia 105E." He said to himself, "This is ......."

Mr. Weasley was overjoyed, clearly glad that someone would be able to admire his proud collection: "Ah, I knew I could talk to you! But don't tell my wife, I lied to her and said I bought it just to take it apart and see what's inside...... But actually, I secretly fixed it - a few simple spells."

"Very thoughtful." Neil nodded and complimented heartily, "The Anglia is a very good car, although the styling is a little flamboyant, but the operation is very responsive, and it is still very fashionable today - to be honest, I don't really know much about cars, but I met a new friend in France last year, and she has a collection of classic cars, and some of them are quite valuable, which is ...... I mean, it sparked a lot of interest in this area."

"And that's not all." Mr. Weasley said happily, "Come on, come on, and I'll show you the most amazing part of it."

Neil must admit that he underestimated the adventurous spirit of the seemingly peaceful Mr. Arthur Weasley—or rather overestimated his reverence for the law. Before the 1962 Ford Anglia 105E Deluxe took to the air with the roar of the engine, he thought that the magic in his mouth was nothing more than a surround car stereo.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"What's wrong, Neil?"

"We're flying, aren't we?"

"Yes!" Mr. Weasley got his hands on the steering wheel and laughed, as if he was twenty years younger, "We're flying!"

He emphasized.

Neil glanced out the window, they were close to the clouds, and the Muggle houses on the ground looked like little black dots. He cleared his throat and carefully pondered the wording: "So, according to my understanding of the Secrecy Law......

"Ah, yes." Weasley

Sheng interrupted him, looking smugly, "Casting magic on Muggle objects is in principle illegal. But there's a loophole in it, and we're going to introduce a new law next month to supplement it."

"So the car won't become illegal until next month?"

"In fact, it will still be legal next month." Mr. Weasley winked mischievously at him, "As the enacter of the new law, I can tell you this with confidence—but don't let Molly know, okay?"

Neil shrugged, appreciating the flexibility.

The car flew through the air for a long time, eventually landing slowly next to a street sign that Neil couldn't spell his name on the outskirts of London. It was so deserted that it was almost noon, and there was still no one on the dilapidated streets.

Mr. Weasley parked his car in an empty parking lot.

"Come on, we can't fly directly to the ministry, we'll have to change to the subway next."

"You look excited, Mr. Weasley."

"Ha, I'm not denying it."

The two walked along the old street like a junkyard for a while, and finally found the entrance to a subway station, which was also not crowded with people, except for some passengers who were presumably waiting for a transfer, but even so, Mr. Weasley could not contain his deep interest, as he did every time he found himself close to the Muggles who were going about their daily business.

Fortunately, he finally managed to control his urge to take the ticket vending machine apart and study it, and bought the subway ticket without any extra trouble, and five minutes later, they boarded the subway. Sit in a clattering carriage and head towards central London. It was only then that Mr. Weasley began to get nervous, checking the subway route map over the window.

"There are too many stations." He argued, "Merlin is on top, and I haven't used public transport since I graduated from Hogwarts."

By the time they got off the train at a stop in central London, it was early afternoon, the streets were full of traffic, and Mr. Weasley had unsurprisingly lost his way. Neil wasn't in a hurry, though, and while the other party was meditating, he kept looking at the price tags in the shop windows on both sides, calculating how far he could squander his savings in the city.

"I'm sorry, I've never been to the ministry this way before." Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Weasley, who had finally found his bearings, apologized, saying, "When you look at the world from a Muggle perspective, everything really makes a difference."

Neil smiled nonchalantly and continued to follow him, the two of them turning left and right, and finally came to a bleak side street. It's hard to imagine such a forgotten little corner in the bustling heart of Greater London, with a depressed street with only a few run-down-looking offices, a tavern and a dump truck that was about to overflow. But if you want to be hidden, you should choose such a place.

"Here we are." Mr. Weasley happily pointed to a red telephone booth against the wall on the side of the road, several of which were missing and looked like they had been removed from the Burrow, "You go in first."

Neil gladly complied, opened the door of the phone booth and walked in, and Mr. Weasley squeezed in to stand beside him, shutting the door with his backhand. The inside of the phone booth was as dilapidated as the outside, and the telephone hung crookedly from the wall, as if some vandal had tried to rip it off. But Mr. Weasley ignored this, reached for the microphone, and dialed a few numbers on the dial - 62442, which Neil secretly kept in mind.

As the dial turned back to its original position, a woman's indifferent voice rang out from the phone booth, but it didn't come 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 what to do."

"Hmm......" Mr. Weasley said, obviously unsure whether he should speak into the microphone. Finally he relented and put the message to his ear, "Arthur Weasley, the Office for the Prohibition of the Misuse of Muggle Objects is with Neil Wan, and the Ministry has asked him to come for questioning."

"Thank you

。」 The woman's cold voice said, "Guest, please pick up the badge and pin it in front of your clothes."

After a small rattle, something slipped out of the metal chute that was normally used to withdraw coins. Neil picked it up and looked at the light carefully: it was a boxy silver badge that read: Neil Wan, questioned. He wanted to pin it to his chest, but after thinking about it, he didn't think he should let this thing leave a hole in his shirt, so he simply slipped the paper clip on it.

He had just finished the action when the woman's voice rang out again.

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

"Speaking of which, I didn't bring my wand, does that make any difference?" He turned his head and asked.

"You don't have a wand?" Mr. Weasley looked surprised, he didn't know that Neil's wand was a weapon of destruction that was nearly forty feet long and incredibly destructive, "Well, that's rare, and wizards don't usually want to put their wands down wherever they go...... But this may be a good thing, and it can be seen as a tribute to the ministry...... Well, maybe they'll appreciate it, I hope so."

As the two spoke, the floor of the phone booth suddenly trembled. Carrying them slowly into the ground, a kind of elevator that was nothing new, specially designed to hide people's ears. The two descended in the darkness for a moment, and after about a minute, a thin golden light appeared at their feet, then gradually widened, expanded to their bodies, and finally shot straight into their faces. Neil narrowed his eyes slightly, adjusting to the sudden glare of light. He didn't like this kind of intimidating welcome, and the Ministry of Magic in London seemed to be deliberately creating an atmosphere in which he couldn't shine in the eyes of every guest.

"The Ministry of Magic wants you to have a nice day." The woman's voice said. The door to the phone booth slammed open, and Mr. Weasley stepped out, Neil following behind, his expression already a little displeased before the questioning began.

When you step out of the elevator, the first thing that catches your eye is a golden promenade hall with a rather high-end dark wood floor, which is as shiny as wax. The peacock blue ceiling is inlaid with various glittering gold symbols, constantly moving in the air, I don't know if it is conveying a message or simply an ornament. The walls on all four sides are lined with dark boards of jet-black and shiny wood, and many gilded fireplaces are embedded in the boards. Every few seconds, with a soft pop, a wizard pops out of one of the fireplaces on the left, and on the right, there are several people lining up in front of each fireplace waiting to leave.

"The ministry can't just apparition." Mr. Weasley noticed his gaze and explained, "So you'll find that despite the countless magic we've invented, we still need to 'queue up to get to work' like Muggles......

In the middle of the foyer is a fountain. In a circular waterhole stands a group of solid gold statues, larger than a life. The tallest of them all was a noble wizard holding a wand high and pointing to the sky. Around him was a beautiful witch and three odd-shaped things. Neil recognized them as centaurs, elves, and house-elves. The three freaks gathered the two wizards in the middle, looking up at them with expressions of infinite adoration. Beams of shining water erupted from the tip of the wizard's wand, the centaur's arrowhead, the tip of the elf's hat, and the ears of the house-elf.

"They must be joking......

Mr. Weasley smiled awkwardly when he heard him talk to himself.

Neil cautiously walked over to the fountain as if he were approaching some source of pollution, and looked down at the bottom of the pool, and as expected, there were many glittering silver sico and copper nat underneath, 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 Wounded and Wounded.

"Excellent." The sullen look on his face suddenly disappeared, replaced by a deep exhaustion, "I now know exactly what this place is."

"Don't be preconceived, Neil, some things aren't as bad as you think." Mr. Weasley's eyes wandered, "At least don't show that in questioning, okay?"

"I hope so, Mr. Weasley, but I'm afraid that in their eyes, I'm no different from centaurs or elves or other creatures, and that I was born with a noble mission to be subservient to wizards...... But don't worry, I can take care of myself."