HP Magic Biography

You don't usually walk to work, do you?

When Harry and Mr. Weasley walked to the square in good spirits, Harry asked Mr. Weasley.

No, I walk a lot, said Mr. Weasley, but obviously you don't, and I think we'd better use non-magical means to get there... to make a good impression and tell them you're being disciplined. of……

Harry nodded, although he knew it was useless, the things Fan Lin had instilled in him made Harry full of disappointment with the Ministry of Magic, at least for Fudge.

However, Mr. Weasley was also doing it for his own good.

Mr. Weasley kept his hands inside his jacket as they marched along. Harry knew he had a tight grip on his wand.

It was an almost deserted path, and Mr. Weasley was afraid of being attacked, but when they arrived at the small, pitiful subway station, they found it full of early commuters.

Mr. Weasley had difficulty suppressing his enthusiasm when they found themselves so close to the Muggles who were talking about everyday things.

Like a myth, he murmured, his glasses fixed on the ticket machine, with astonishing originality.

But they're out of order, Harry said, pointing to the markers.

Yes, but even so... Mr. Weasley looked at the things innocently and radiantly. Harry and Mr. Weasley bought tickets from a drowsy conductor, and five minutes later they boarded a tube bound for central London.

Mr. Weasley anxiously checked the tube map posted on the window over and over again.

There are still four stops, Harry is now three or two stops away, Harry...

That kind of excitement couldn't be suppressed at all, in a Muggle way, Mr. Weasley had always wanted to do this, just look at the modified car.

They disembarked at a very central London station and merged into a stream of well-dressed men and women with briefcases in their hands. They went up the escalator, passed the ticket barrier, and out on a wide street lined with imposing high-rise buildings and busy with traffic.

Where are we? Mr. Weasley asked blankly, and for a split second Harry almost thought they'd gotten off at the wrong platform despite Mr. Weasley's constant consultation of the map, but for a second Then Mr. Weasley said, Ah, yes this way, Harry, and led Harry into a side road.

I'm sorry, said Mr. Weasley, but I've never taken a train to work, and from a Muggle point of view I behave very differently. In fact, I've never used the guest entrance before.

The further they went, the dwarfed buildings grew, until at last they came to an alleyway that contained a few dilapidated offices, a bar, and a tanker truck that was overflowing.

Harry would have liked the Ministry to be in a more impressive location.

Here we are, said Mr. Weasley succinctly, pointing to an old red telephone box missing a few panes of glass and standing in front of a badly graffitied wall.

Come with me, Harry. Mr. Weasley opened the door of the telephone booth.

Harry stepped into the phone booth and wondered what the hell the place was for.

Mr. Weasley pushed himself beside Harry and closed the phone booth door. It was a little cramped in here; Harry was squeezed against the phone, which hung from the wall in a crooked way as if a savage had tried to tear it open.

Mr. Weasley passed Harry to the receiver.

Mr Weasley, I think this phone is out of order, too, said Harry.

No, no, I'm sure it's fine, said Mr. Weasley, putting the receiver to his ear and starting to dial.

Let me see six he dialed the number, two four and then four and then two... well, that's right...

When the dial returned to its original position smoothly, a cold female voice came from the telephone, but from the receiver in Mr. Weasley's hand, but the voice was very loud and clear, as if someone was watching The missing woman was standing next to them.

Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and occupation.

Um... Mr. Weasley was clearly unsure whether he wanted to speak into the receiver.

But in the end, Mr. Weasley held the microphone to his ear in compromise, Arthur Weasley, from the Improper Use of Magical Items Office, accompanied by Harry Potter, has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing. meeting.

Thank you, said the icy female voice, Visitor, please take your badge and tie it on the front of your robe.

There was a clicking sound, and Harry watched something slide out of the metal chute normally used to return coins.

Mr. Weasley picked it up. It was a square silver badge with the words Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearings written on it.

When the female voice sounded again, he pinned the badge on the front of the T-shirt.

Visitor of the Ministry of Magic, you need to undergo an inspection and take your wand to the security office for registration. The security office is at the innermost part of the atrium.

As soon as the voice fell, the floor of the phone booth suddenly trembled. They sank slowly into the ground. Harry looked a little tense as the sidewalk outside slowly lifted past the glass windows of the phone booth until the darkness grew over their heads. Then they couldn't see anything, and all he could hear was the dull grinding noise of the phone booth as it passed down the ground. Although Harry felt it was much longer, after about a minute a golden beam of light illuminated his feet, widening and rising until it hit his face, and Harry had to blink to avoid tears .

The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day, said the female voice. The door of the phone booth flew open, and Mr. Weasley stepped out, followed by Harry, his mouth barely shut in surprise.

They were standing now at the end of a very long and imposing hall with a floor of very glossy black wood. The peacock-blue ceiling is inlaid with shimmering gold symbols that are constantly moving and changing, like the many guardians of the heavens.

The walls on both sides were inlaid with shiny black wood, and there were many gilt fireplaces. Every few seconds, with a slight jerk, a wizard or witch steps out of the left-hand fireplace. And on the right hand side, there was a small queue in front of each fireplace waiting to leave.

There is a fountain half way down the hall. A group of slightly larger-than-life-size golden statues stood in the center of a circular pool. The tallest of these statues was a noble-looking wizard whose wand pointed skyward.

Surrounding this wizard statue are a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin and an elf. The three statues at the back all stand before the wizard and witch with reverent expressions. Water was flying from gleaming spouts at the tips of their wands, among other spouts was a centaur's drag rope, the tops of goblin hats, and the pixie's ears, so that the tinkle of water came from the statue's The gap came out.

And at the feet of these statues are scattered hundreds of wizards and witches. Most of these statues are dressed in gray and look precocious. Look straight ahead to a set of golden doors at the end of the hall.

This way, said Mr. Weasley. They joined the crowd, weaving among Ministry staff, some carrying stacks of dangling parchment, others a flat briefcase; still others Walking and reading...

Hmm...that's pretty bad...

As Harry and Mr. Weasley passed the fountain, he saw many silver and bronze coins gleaming at the bottom of the pool. Next to the pool is a small, stained sign that reads: All proceeds from Fountain of Magical Fellowship will be donated to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Diseases and Injuries.

Harry found himself thinking desperately, If I don't get expelled from Hogwarts this time, I'll donate ten Galleons.

Come here, Harry, said Mr. Weasley.

They stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees and headed for the golden doors. On the left side there is a table with a sign saying safe place, when they approached a wizard looked up at them and put down everything in his hands, the guy was badly shaved and wearing a A robe of peacock blue.

I'm accompanying a visitor, Mr. Weasley gestured at Harry.

Come here, said the wizard in a dull tone. Harry walked over to him, and the wizard took out a long golden rod, which was as thin and flexible as a car antenna, and the wizard used it to fly up and down Harry's back and forth.

Wand, muttered the wizard from safe, putting down the golden device and holding out his hand. Harry handed him his wand.

The wizard rests his wand on a strange brass instrument that resembles a dish of various proportions. The instrument began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment passes from the bottom of the apparatus.

Eleven inches, the axis of the phoenix feather, has been used for four years. Is the information correct?

Yes, Harry replied nervously.

I keep this, said the wizard, and fastened the little strip of parchment to a small brass nail. You take your wand back, he added, throwing the wand to Harry.

Thanks.

Wait, the wizard said slowly. His glasses flicked from the visitor badge on Harry's chest to his forehead.

Thank you, Erik, said Mr. Weasley calmly. He took Harry by the shoulders and led Harry away from safety, rejoining the army of wizards and witches who were weaving through the golden doors.

The crowd was slightly crowded, and Harry followed Mr. Weasley through a few doors to a smaller hall farther away, where at least twenty golden lattice-like elevators were working. Harry and Mr. Weasley joined a group of people waiting for the lift. Beside them stood the bearded wizard, holding a huge cardboard box from which there was a disturbing noise.

How are you, Arthur? the wizard nodded at Mr. Weasley.

What are you carrying, Bob? asked Mr. Weasley, looking at the box.

I'm not sure, the wizard said seriously. I thought it was just a qualified chick, but now it's spitting out flames. It seems that I have seriously violated the prohibition of experimental breeding.

Maybe it's a phoenix or not, but phoenixes and chickens...

Truth be told, the dude had Hagrid's style, say, with those snails.

With a loud bang, an elevator stopped in front of them; the golden lattice doors opened, Harry and Mr. Weasley followed the others into the elevator, and Harry found himself pushed against the wall behind. A few wizards and witches eyed him curiously; he looked down at his feet to avoid anyone's eyes, bangs hanging down his forehead as he did so.

The lattice doors slammed shut and the slow climb began, the chains of the lift rattling when the same female voice Harry had heard in the phone booth sounded again.

The seventh floor, the Ministry of Magical Games and Sports, the headquarters of the British and Irish Quidditch Cooperative Alliance, the Office Billiards Club, and the Magical Toy Patent Office.

The elevator doors opened. Harry caught a glimpse of a messy corridor, with various Quidditch advertisements pinned to the walls in a haphazard manner. Inside the elevator, a wizard holding a broom handle struggled to squeeze out of the elevator and disappeared into the corridor.

The door closed, and the elevator climbed tremblingly again, this time the female voice announced: Sixth floor, Department of Magical Transport, Floo Powder Delivery Network Cooperation Center, Broom Adjustment Control, Portkey Office, and Transmission Test Center.

Again, the elevator doors opened, and four or five wizards and witches stepped out; at the same moment, several paper airplanes rushed into the elevator. Harry stared at the paper airplanes, which were lavender all over and stamped with the Ministry of Magic postmark on the edges of their wings, as they hovered leisurely overhead with flapping wings.

It's just internal mail, Mr. Weasley told Harry softly. We normally use owls, but the amount of letters is unbelievable. They fill my desk.

As they climbed, the interior mail all circled the ceiling light.

The fifth floor, the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the International Magical Items Trading Standards Cooperation Office, the International Magic Law Office and the British Branch of the International Union of Magic.

This is Mr. Crouch's...

For some reason, Harry suddenly thought of Crouch, that unlucky guy...

Was... Mr. Weasley responded briefly.

When the elevator doors opened, two internal mails and a few wizards went out, but a few more internal mails flew in, so the lights above their heads flickered on and off.

Fourth floor, Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Department of Cooperation with Magical Creatures, Office of Body and Soul Separation, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pet Consultation Center.

Here we are, said the wizard carrying a turkey and a few internal mails and got out of the elevator together. The elevator doors closed again.

The third floor, the Ministry of Magical Accidents and Disasters, including the Magical Disaster Reversal Office, the Rescue Command, and the Muggle Protection Committee.

On this floor, everyone got out of the elevator except for Harry, Mr. Weasley, and a wizard who was reading a long parchment in the elevator.

The rest of the interior mail was still circling the ceiling light as the elevator went up again. Then the elevator doors opened again, and the female voice announced.

The second level, the Magic Law Enforcement Department, includes the Improper Use of Magic Office, the Auror Command, and the Magic Item Repair and Maintenance Management Office.

Here it is, Harry, said Mr. Weasley. They walked out of the elevator with the wizard and into a corridor with a row of doors. My office is on the other side of this floor.

Mr. Weasley, said Harry, as they passed a sunny window, are we still underground?

Yes, we're underground, said Mr. Weasley, and those are the magic windows. The Magic Maintenance Service decides what the weather is like each day. We had two full months of hurricane weather during the last time they asked for a raise. Turn this way, Harry.

They turned a corner, passed two thick oak doors, and emerged into a noisy open area divided into individual cubicles, filled with conversation and laughter.

Internal mail shuttles back and forth like miniature rockets. A crooked sign hangs above the nearest booth, reading: AUROR COMMAND.

Harry peeked over the door as they passed. Members of the Aurors hung pictures of wanted wizards and family portraits of themselves on the walls of their cubicles, and some posted pictures of their favorite Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. A wizard in bright red robes was sitting cross-legged on a table, scribbling out a report with his large quill, his head in a ponytail longer than Bill's.

A little further on, a witch with a blindfold over one eye was sitting on the top of the wall of her cell chatting with Kingsley Shacklebolt.