When Harry and Mr. Weasley came out of the Black Mansion together, there was just a little light in the sky. Looking up, it was gray, the air seemed to be soaked with night dew, and there was a chill in the early morning.
The two of them walked in staggered steps, gently walking around the square and walking outside the residential area.
"Where is the Ministry of Magic? How should we get there?" After taking two silent steps, Harry suddenly asked as if he wanted to relax his tense nerves.
"No one knows the exact location, only that it's somewhere deep underground... Clerks like us usually Apparate to go to work," Mr. Weasley explained casually, "but obviously you don't."
"Besides, we'd better go there through the visitor entrance. After all, you are going to be interrogated. It's better not to use magic if you can, so as not to leave a bad impression on the normal Ministry of Magic employees."
Mr. Weasley walked with one hand in his jacket, and Harry knew that it must be his wand.
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 that it was already crowded with Muggle passengers on the morning shift.
Mr. Weasley has always been particularly fond of Muggles and Muggle mechanical products, which is the biggest reason why he stays in the "Department of Misuse of Muggle Products" without complaining.
Now that he had both, it was no wonder that he had difficulty suppressing his intense interest - as he always did when he found himself in close proximity to Muggles going about their daily business.
"It's incredible," he said excitedly, pointing to the automatic ticket vending machine in front of him, "It's amazing!"
"They're broken," Harry said, pointing to the sign.
"Really? But even so, still..." Mr. Weasley said, looking at the malfunctioning ticket machines with joy.
"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, "Look! We have to buy tickets—"
"Oh!" Mr. Weasley turned around and said suddenly, "Yes, buy a ticket! I probably remember this..." He said, took out a handful of pounds from his pocket, and looked at it over and over. Uh... Although I've been thinking about it, 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, then raised his head and asked, "By the way, where should we go?"
"Central London," Mr. Weasley replied immediately, "well, if I remember correctly - it was my first time going through the visitor's entrance too."
Hearing what Mr. Weasley said, Harry couldn't help but pray in his heart, hoping that he wouldn't be late because he couldn't find the entrance!
After buying subway tickets from a sleepy administrator, they boarded the subway five minutes later. The old subway carried them clanging towards central London.
In the subway carriage, Mr. Weasley checked the subway route map above the window again and again; Harry carefully put his right hand into his left sleeve, and then quickly pulled it out.
An inexplicable look flashed across his face for a moment.
"There are four stops... Harry, there are three stops now... There are two stops left, Harry..."
Under Mr. Weasley's curious and nervous words, the surrounding Muggle passengers looked at him with confusion. Apparently, his neurotic muttering was loud enough to attract attention.
"Mr. Weasley, you won't miss the stop, we just need to sit down." Harry couldn't help it anymore, so he lowered his voice and reminded, "They are all looking at you!"
"Oh! Really?" Mr. Weasley immediately pulled his eyes away from the road map and looked around, "To be honest, I really want to make some Muggle friends..."
They got off at a stop in central London.
The subway platform in the city center was of course bustling and crowded. There was a huge flow of people here. Harry and Mr. Weasley were pushed out of the subway by countless well-dressed men and women carrying briefcases.
"Oh! If I hadn't known that Muggles don't know magic, I would really have thought this was a magic staircase." Standing on the escalator with Harry, Mr. Weasley lost no time in admiring.
"Wow! This little thing is awesome!"
When they passed the turnstile at the ticket gate, Mr. Weasley, who had personally experienced having his ticket swallowed by the ticket gate, couldn't help but smile and clapped his hands.
When they left the subway station and came to a wide street, it was already bright.
There are majestic and spectacular buildings on both sides of the street. Various shops and large billboards are colorful along the street. The street is also busy with traffic.
"What is this place?"
Standing on the side of the street, looking at the people and vehicles coming and going, Mr. Weasley looked at a loss.
"What?"
Harry's heart stopped when he thought that, despite Mr. Weasley checking the Tube map so frequently, they had gotten off at the wrong station.
But fortunately, Mr. Weasley said next: "Ah! Oh... By the way, this way, Harry."
As he spoke, he turned around and led Harry forward for a short distance, then turned into a fork in the street.
"I'm sorry," unlike Harry's nervousness, Mr. Weasley said extremely excitedly, "I have never taken the subway! And, from a Muggle perspective, everything seems completely different."
"...To be honest, I almost thought I had become a Muggle!"
As they continued to walk forward, the buildings on both sides of the street generally became much lower. This is true in both the magical world and the Muggle world. When people deviate from the area where money is concentrated, mediocrity and even simplicity are the main tone of the world now.
Finally, they came to a desolate side street with only a few shabby-looking, closed old shops, a tavern and a dump truck that was almost overflowing.
On the opposite side, there is a small parking lot with only a dilapidated private car parked.
Harry had thought that the Ministry of Magic was in a much grander place! It seems that they are more considering avoiding too much contact with Muggles.
"Here we are," Mr. Weasley said cheerfully, pointing to a dilapidated red phone booth with several panes of glass missing.
The back of the phone booth was against a wall that had been painted over.
With an inadvertent glance, Harry also saw some small rectangular stickers stuck on the wall. The pictures on the stickers made him blush, and then he looked away with difficulty.
"You go in first, Harry." Mr. Weasley stepped forward, reached out and opened the door of the phone booth.
Harry walked in doubtfully. When he was doubtful, Mr. Weasley squeezed in and stood beside him, and closed the door behind him.
It’s so crowded in here!
Harry was pressed against the wall-mounted payphone, which hung crookedly on the wall as if a 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 may be broken..."
"No, there is none. The Ministry of Magic will send people to regularly inspect and maintain important magical items like this." Mr. Weasley said, raising the microphone above his head and looking at the rotary dial, "Let me think about it..."
"This...well, next is this...and this, and this..."
As the dial clicked and turned again and again, and then reset automatically, an indifferent female voice sounded from the phone booth.
But Harry felt that it was not coming from the microphone. The voice was loud and clear, as if an invisible woman was standing beside them.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name and the reason for your visit."
"Huh?" Mr. Weasley looked at the receiver in his hand and then at the crooked telephone, obviously unsure where to speak.
After hesitating for a few moments, he put the receiver to his mouth carelessly and said: "Arthur Weasley, Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts - came with Harry Potter, and the department asked him to come for trial. "
"Thank you," the cold female voice said, "Guest, please pick up your badge and pin it to your front."
Following the jingling sound, Harry saw a small object slipping out of the metal groove of the coin return port.
He picked it up: it was a square silver badge with the words "Harry Potter - Trial" written on it.
When Harry took the badge and put it on his T-shirt, the woman's voice sounded again.
"Guests of the Ministry of Magic, you are required to go to the security desk to be checked and register your wand - the security desk is at the end of the main hall."
Before he finished speaking, his feet suddenly vibrated, leading them to slowly sink into the ground.
Harry looked at the glass partition wall of the phone booth in surprise. The sidewalk was rising higher and higher. Soon the surroundings became dark and nothing could be seen.
In the darkness, only the harsh grinding sound that continued to linger in the ears proved that they were still moving. But if he asked if he was still moving vertically, Harry couldn't answer it at all.
It was probably more than a minute, but it felt like it was much longer than that.
When a thin golden light hit Harry's feet, he let out a sigh of relief.
Then, the golden light gradually widened and extended to his body. Soon, Harry had to squint his eyes to adjust to the sudden light.
"The Ministry hopes you have a good day."
After the cold female voice finished speaking the last words, the door of the phone booth suddenly opened. Mr. Weasley walked out first, followed by Harry, who was so surprised at the sight around him that he could hardly open his mouth from ear to ear.
But even so, he still touched his sleeve subconsciously.