Chapter 295 British Ministry of Magic

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

But if the entire basement level to the eighth floor is pulled out from the ground, it is actually not much different from the layered concept of Muggle architecture.

After gradually getting used to the surrounding brightness, Harry found himself standing in the middle of a wide and winding passage.

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

On both sides of this arched passage made of unknown black bricks, countless gold-plated fireplaces are neatly arranged, extending forward and backward.

Every few seconds, with a soft pop and a pop of emerald green flames, a wizard popped out of one of the fireplaces to the left.

And on the right, at every moment, it seems like someone is getting in, throwing Floo powder and leaving.

Being in such a busy scene, Harry intuitively felt that the Ministry of Magic really deserves to be the central institution that governs a country's magical world.

... No wonder Maca said something so confident that 'Voldemort can't completely infiltrate the Ministry of Magic'. Looking at the dense crowd around him, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Walking on dark, polished wooden floors, overhead is a dome of the same black brick, inlaid with gleaming gold symbols.

Those symbols are constantly moving and changing, like a huge high-altitude bulletin board.

If you go further, you will soon see a circular fountain with a group of huge pure gold statues standing in the middle of the pool.

Tallest of these was a dignified wizard, who held his wand pointed to the sky; surrounded by him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf.

The centaur, the goblin, and the house-elf all looked up at the two wizards with infinite admiration, and glistening jets of water flowed from the tips of the wizard's wands, from the arrows of the centaur's bows, from the tips of the goblin's hats, from the tips of the goblin's hats, The house-elf squirted out of both ears.

Nearby, the sound of rushing water, the crackling of Apparition, and the chaotic footsteps of hundreds of witches and wizards mixed together, sounding a bit chaotic.

Many of those wizards were well-dressed, but they all had the unique morning innocence on their faces, and they strode towards the row of golden gates on the other side.

This way, said Mr. Weasley.

They marched through throngs of Ministry staff and assorted visitors, some with crumbling piles of parchment in their arms, some with well-worn briefcases, and others with a copy of the The Daily Prophet was read as we walked.

As he passed the fountain, Harry saw many silver Sickles and copper Knuts gleaming at the bottom of the clear pool, and a small, smudged sign beside it read: All proceeds from the Magic Brothers Fountain donate to St Mungo's Wounds sick hospital.

If the review can be passed smoothly... No, I came here with a mission this time. In the final analysis, I am saving the Ministry of Magic... Probably? Harry thought for a while, then changed his mind and said silently, If today's mission If it can be successfully completed, I will put ten Galleons in it... oh, no—”

What are you thinking, Harry? Seeing Harry slowing down while looking at the coins under the pool, Mr. Weasley stretched out his hand and patted him on the shoulder and said, Although the money in this pool has not been touched for a long time Now, but you can’t play with them!”

What? Harry seemed to be in a daze, and didn't hear Mr. Weasley's words clearly, I was wondering if I should change to a greater desire, for example - to save the world or something?

This way, Harry.

Mr. Weasley said, leading Harry away from the most concentrated flow of people and walking to the left.

Next to a table, a sign that said Security Check was erected, and under it sat a wizard in peacock blue robes and a bad beard.

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

I've brought a guest, said Mr. Weasley, pointing to Harry.

Come this way, said the wizard in a listless tone.

Harry, who had just recovered from the resplendent atrium, saw the sign from his perspective, and he felt nervous for a while.

Focus, focus! Harry reminded himself.

Taking advantage of the wizard's yawn, he shook his sleeves lightly, and a very inconspicuous little thing immediately landed at his feet.

The next moment, the wizard raised a slender and resilient golden stick, and swept it across Harry's chest and back from top to bottom.

Wand.

The security wizard grunted at Harry, put down the golden bauble, and held out his hand.

Only then did Harry secretly heave a sigh of relief, and he immediately drew out his wand and handed it over.

The wizard had just dropped it on a strange-looking brass machine that looked like a single balance, and the machine began to vibrate slightly.

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

The wizard tore off the paper and read the words on it:

Eleven inches, the core is phoenix feathers, it took four years... right?

Yeah, Harry replied nervously.

I'll keep this, said the wizard, sticking the parchment on a small brass spike. You take this back.

He shoved the wand into Harry's hand.

thanks.

Harry finally let go of his clenched teeth. He stomped his heels lightly as Maca said. After a pause of two seconds, he raised his feet and planned to leave here with Mr. Weasley.

Wait a minute, said the wizard slowly.

what happened? Did he notice? Obviously there's nothing wrong with it?

Harry came back to his senses a little stiffly, and moved his shoulders a little unnaturally, because there was a burning sensation on his scalp and back.

There was a trace of surprise in the wizard's eyes, and he subconsciously looked up from the silver guest badge on Harry's chest to his forehead.

Thank you, Eric.

Mr. Weasley dropped a word decisively, then grabbed Harry by the shoulder, and led him out of here and back into the crowd.

The more they went, the more crowded it was, as if the flow of people had gathered in one place. They were almost pushed by the crowd through the gate and into a smaller hall.

There are at least twenty elevators here, separated in the walls by golden grille doors carved with fine patterns.

Harry followed Mr. Weasley step by step, and walked into the crowd in front of one of the elevators.

Beside them stood a tall, unshaven wizard, holding a large cardboard box in his arms, and there were harsh friction sounds from inside it from time to time.

All right, Arthur? said the wizard, nodding at Mr. Weasley.

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

Not sure yet, said the wizard named Bob solemnly. We thought it was an ordinary chicken, but we didn't expect it to spew fire! This seems to me to be a serious violation of the The Act Prohibiting Animal Breeding Experiments...

With a creaking sound, the elevator car descended in front of them.

When the golden fence door slid open, a large crowd of people poured into the elevator. No one here cares about whether there will be some thrilling accidents due to being overweight.

When Harry found himself suffocated, he couldn't help feeling nostalgic for the little bit of the phone booth ride.

Several wizards around looked at him curiously.

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

The fence door slammed shut, the elevator slowly ascended, and the chains rattled. Immediately afterwards, the indifferent female voice that Harry had heard in the phone booth rang here again.

Floor seven, the Department of Magical Sports and Sports, containing the headquarters of the British and Irish Quidditch League, the official Gobstone Club and the Burlesque Products Patent Office.

The elevator doors opened, and Harry glimpsed with difficulty a haphazard corridor with various Quidditch posters jutting here and there on the walls.

A wizard with a broomstick struggled his way out and disappeared down the corridor.

The fence door was closed again, and the elevator shook slightly and continued to rise. The female voice continued: The sixth floor, the Department of Magical Transportation, includes the Floo Network Management Bureau, the Broomstick Management and Control Bureau, the Portkey Office and the Apparition Test Center.

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

Harry also saw what appeared to be a Ministry of Magic stamp on the side of the wing.

It's a note used to pass messages between departments, Mr. Weasley whispered to him. It used to be an owl, and it was unbelievably messy - there was shit 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 number of paper airplane notes became less and less. When it reached the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters on the third floor, almost everyone had gone out.

Now only Mr. Weasley, Harry, and one other witch were left in the lift.

By the way, the witch was reading from a parchment scroll that was so long that it dragged to the floor.

If Ron saw it, he probably wouldn't choose to work for the Ministry of Magic in his life... Harry couldn't help thinking.

At this moment, with another shock, the elevator stopped rising again.