"I'm escorting a visitor," said Mr Weasley, gesturing towards Harry.
"Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice.
Harry walked closer to him and the wizard held up a long golden rod, thin and flexible as
a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harrys front and back.
"Wand," grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and
holding out his hand.
Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it on to a strange brass instrument, which
looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow
strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and
read the writing on it.
"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?"
"Yes," said Harry nervously.
"I keep this," said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. "You
get this back," he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.
"Thank you."
"Hang on ..." said the wizard slowly.
His eyes had darted from the silver visitors badge on Harry's chest to his forehead.
"Thank you, Eric," said Mr Weasley firmly, and grasping Harry by the shoulder he
steered him away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking
through the golden gates.
Jostled slightly by the crowd, Harry followed Mr Weasley through the gates into the
smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles.
Harry and Mr Weasley joined the crowd around one of them. Nearby, stood a big bearded
wizard holding a large cardboard box which was emitting rasping noises.
"All right, Arthur?" said the wizard, nodding at Mr Weasley.
"What've you got there, Bob?" asked Mr Weasley, looking at the box.
"We're not sure," said the wizard seriously. 'We thought it was a bog-standard chicken
until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental
Breeding to me."
With a great jangling and clattering a lift descended in front of them; the golden grille
slid back and Harry and Mr Weasley stepped into the lift with the rest of the crowd and
Harry found himself jammed against the back wall. Several witches and wizards were
looking at him curiously; he stared at his feet to avoid catching anyone's eye, flattening
his fringe as he did so. The grilles slid shut with a crash and the lift ascended slowly,
chains rattling, while the same cool female voice Harry had heard in the telephone box
rang out again.
"Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and
Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club and Ludicrous Patents
Office."
The lift doors opened. Harry glimpsed an untidy-looking corridor, with various posters of
Quidditch teams tacked lopsidedly on the walls. One of the wizards in the lift, who was
carrying an armful of broomsticks, extricated himself with difficulty and disappeared
down the corridor. The doors closed, the lift juddered upwards again and the woman's