Chapter 806 Hearing (2)

"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 really a second," Mr. Weasley said, "I'm a little busy right now." They were talking, but it seemed that it was difficult to communicate, and when Harry wanted to say hello to Kensley At that moment, Mr. Weasley stepped on Harry's foot. They followed Kingsley all the way inside until they reached an innermost single room.

What surprised Harry was that there were so many photos here, it looked like a data room, and Harry even found a photo of Sirius in the corner.

"Here," Kingsley said curtly to Mr. Weasley, and thrust a bundle of parchment into Mr. Weasley's hand.

"I have spent the past twelve months gathering as much information as possible about Muggle flying engines. We have received reports that Black is still using his old motorcycle."

Kingsley winked at Harry a few times, then added quietly, "Give him that magazine and he'll find out it's fun."

Then he said in a normal tone: "Don't take too long, Weasley, the delay in that ham report took us a month to investigate."

"If you had read my report you would have known that thing was a fire arm," Mr. Weasley said coldly, "and I'm afraid you will have to wait for news about the motorcycle, we are very busy at the moment."

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

This looked like a secret deal between agents. Although Harry didn't know what it meant when Sirius's photo appeared in the corner of the Auror office, it was interesting that the Ministry of Magic would embarrass the little boy for an unrelated Muggle item. Sirius?

or……

That motorcycle belongs to Hagrid...

He led Harry out of Kingsley's single room, passed through the second oak door and entered another unit, turned left, passed through the next corridor, and then turned right into a dimly lit and obviously shabby corridor. Finally they reached a dead end, and to their left there was a slightly open door to an open broom cupboard, while to the right there hung a nasty tarnished brass sign that read: NO Proper Use of Muggle Items Office.

Mr. Weasley's grubby office looked even smaller than the broom cupboard opposite. Two desks were crowded inside, and a row of cabinets filled with stuff were placed against the wall. The space in between was just enough for them to barely pass through, and a large number of documents were piled on the top of each cabinet. In the small space left on the wall were several things that fascinated Mr. Weasley: several pictures of cars, including a dismantled engine, and two clippings from Muggle children's books. An illustration of a mailbox coming down; and a diagram showing how to wrap a socket.

On the desk opposite Mr. Weasley sat a picture of an old drunkard, burping morosely and toying with his thumbs in a pair of empty leather gloves. Next to the plate was a family photo of the Weasleys.

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

"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 isn't here yet."

Harry was squeezing into the chair behind Perkins' desk as Mr. Weasley quickly read the parchment Kingsley had just handed him.

"Huh," Weasley smiled slightly after taking something from a magazine called Nitpick, "yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will find this very interesting - oh, Honey, what time is it now?"

An internal email just flew in through the open door and landed on top of the picture of the burping alcoholic. Mr. Weasley opened the letter and read it aloud.

"Bisnell Green reports third backflow of public restrooms. This is ridiculous"

"A backflow bathroom?"

"Anti-Muggles are joking," said Mr. Weasley, frowning. "We dealt with two last week, one in Wimbledon and one in the Elephant and Castle. The Muggles were trying to flush. Everything just disappeared - yeah, you can imagine. These shits kept coming - I think they were called plumbers - you know, the ones who fix pipes."

"Plumber?"

"Correct, yes, of course they'll be left scrambling, just hoping we can catch a few of the culprits."

"Won't the Aurors catch them?"

"Oh, no, these matters are too trivial to alert the Aurors. It falls under the jurisdiction of the General Magical Law Enforcement Patrol - ah, Harry, this is Perkins."

A hunchbacked, seemingly shy old wizard walked into the room. He had a gray beard and was panting.

"Oh, Arthur!" he shouted desperately without looking at Harry, "Thank God, I don't know how best to deal with this matter, whether to wait for you to come. I just sent an owl to your house, but it will be very late." Apparently you didn't receive it—an urgent letter came ten minutes ago—"

"I know, about that backflow bathroom thing," said Mr. Weasley.

"No, no, it's about Potter's son's hearing - they've changed the time and place - it's going to be held downstairs at eight o'clock in the old Inquisition Ten -"

"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 were supposed to be five minutes ago Get there! "

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

"Why did they change the time?" Harry asked breathlessly as they passed through the Auror cell. People turned their heads to get out of the way and stared at them as they passed quickly. Harry felt that all his feelings were still lingering on Perkins' desk.

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

"Come on!" The elevator rattled into view, and they ran in quickly. Mr. Weasley cursed angrily every time the elevator stopped and punched the ninth floor button.

"Those chambers haven't been used for years," said Mr. Weasley angrily. "I can't see why they would hold hearings there - unless - but no -"

At this moment, a fat witch walked into the elevator holding a smoking goblet. Mr. Weasley did not look at her carefully.

"The middle hall," the cold female voice said, and then the golden lattice door opened, and Harry glanced at the fountain with the golden statue from a distance. The fat witch walked out, and at the same time, a pale-skinned wizard came in with a sad face.

"Good morning, Arthur," he said in a deadpan tone as the elevator began to descend, "it's not often you come down here."

"Urgent, Purdy," said Mr. Weasley, tapping his foot anxiously and looking at Harry worriedly.

"Ah, yes," Bodie looked at Harry unblinkingly, "Of course."

Harry was hardly in the mood to pay attention to Purdy right now, and his unblinking stare didn't make Harry feel any better.

"Mystery Department," the female voice said and the door opened. "Come on, Harry," said Mr. Weasley as the annoying elevator door opened.

They ran quickly down a corridor. This hallway looks completely different than the one above. The walls were bare, with no windows or doors, except for a black drawing of a prairie at the end of the corridor.

Harry thought they were going to go through here, but Mr. Weasley grabbed his hand and pulled him to the left, where there was an open stair tread.

"Get down from here, get down from here," Mr. Weasley shouted breathlessly, while rushing down two steps at a time.

"The elevator can't go down this far. Why are they doing this here? I..."

They ran to the bottom of the stairs and down another corridor that bore an unsavory resemblance to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

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

"Inquisition No. 10. I think we are almost there...yes." Mr. Weasley stopped suddenly in front of a dirty black door with a big lock. He leaned against the wall exhausted, his hands tightly Scratching his chest.

"Go in," he panted, pointing to the door with his thumb.

"right here."

"No - won't you come in with me -?"

"No, no, I'm not allowed to enter, but don't worry. As I said before, you didn't do anything wrong, but I have to remind you not to say unnecessary words during the trial. This will be helpful to you. The good thing is, you just have to answer truthfully whatever they ask, after all we have nothing to be afraid of... Good luck!”

Harry nodded, and his chest rose and fell violently twice, as if he wanted to calm down and digest what others had taught him.

However, this seems to be of no use, at least that's what Harry thinks. When facing this old door, no thought will work.

Harry felt his heart leap into his throat, his mouth was dry and he had difficulty swallowing, he turned the heavy iron doorknob and entered the Inquisition. (To be continued)