the ticket barrier (Mr Weasley delighted with the way the stile swallowed his ticket), and
emerged on to a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings and already full of
traffic.
"Where are we?" said Mr Weasley blankly, and for one heart-stopping moment Harry
thought they had got off at the wrong station despite Mr Weasley's continual references
to the map; but a second later he said, "Ah yes ... this way, Harry," and led him down a
side road.
"Sorry," he said, "but I never come by train and it all looks rather different from a
Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact, I've never even used the visitors' entrance
before."
The further they walked, the smaller and less imposing the buildings became, until finally
they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub and an
overflowing skip. Harry had expected a rather more impressive location for the Ministry
of Magic.
"Here we are," said Mr Weasley brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which
was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall. "After you,
Harry."
He opened the telephone-box door.
Harry stepped inside, wondering what on earth this was about. Mr Weasley folded
himself in beside Harry and closed the door. It was a tight fit; Harry was jammed against
the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal
had tried to rip it off. Mr Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.
"Mr Weasley, I think this might be out of order, too," Harry said.
"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," said Mr Weasley, holding the receiver above his head and
peering at the dial. "Let's see ... six ..." he dialled the number, "two ... four ... and another
four ... and another two ..."
As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the
telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as
though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Er ..." said Mr Weasley, clearly uncertain whether or not he should talk into the receiver.
He compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of
Muggle Artefacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a
disciplinary hearing ..."
"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to
the front of your robes."
There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute
where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: it was a square silver badge with
Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing on it. He pinned it to the front of his T-shirt as the
female voice spoke again.
"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for
registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."
The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground.