Passing the Auror office, Sherlock's gaze merely swept across, taking in everything.
The walls were plastered messily, some with wanted posters of wizards, some with their own family photos, some with Quidditch team posters, and some with articles clipped from the Daily Prophet.
"Good morning, Weasley."
Being on the same floor, the wizards here skillfully greeted Mr. Weasley while their gazes constantly drifted toward the three beside him.
From their looks, Sherlock knew the Aurors' average quality was somewhat higher than other Ministry personnel—at least they recognized Harry and Sirius.
As for himself, it didn't matter.
Though these Aurors recognized Harry and Sirius, they all restrained themselves, not engaging them in conversation, only watching curiously.
Under the Aurors' gaze, Mr. Weasley led the three through the Auror office into a dim, dilapidated corridor, finally reaching its end.
On the left was a door slightly ajar, revealing what appeared to be a broom cupboard inside.
The door on the right bore a faded brass nameplate.
[Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office]
Compared to other Ministry offices, this place was somewhat shabby, even desolate. Because this office was actually slightly smaller than the broom cupboard on the left.
This meant that though there were only two desks, it still felt extremely cramped.
Filing cabinets lined the walls, overflowing, with packages of precariously stacked files piled on top. There was hardly room beside the desks for anyone to move freely.
Sherlock had long since deduced that Mr. Weasley's treatment at the Ministry wasn't very good; now this further confirmed his judgment.
On the other hand, even without Sherlock's deduction, Harry could see what Mr. Weasley was passionate about. Because the tiny bit of usable wall space told him the answer.
Posted there were several car advertisements, one showing a dismantled engine. Two mailbox illustrations, apparently cut from Muggle children's books. And a diagram showing how to install an electrical socket.
Very Weasley indeed.
The in-tray was overflowing, beside it a family photo of the Weasleys.
Similar to the one he'd seen before, taken in front of the pyramids in Egypt, but without Scabbers in the picture.
"There's no window here."
Mr. Weasley said apologetically as he removed his coat and draped it over his chair back.
"We've requested one, but they seem to think we don't need it. Please sit down. Looks like Perkins hasn't arrived yet."
Harry squeezed with difficulty into the chair behind Perkins's desk.
Sherlock and Sirius didn't sit.
Even if they wanted to, there was nowhere to sit.
"Uh... sorry, I forgot about that."
Seeing this situation, Mr. Weasley slapped his forehead, about to say something when a paper airplane whooshed through the open door.
He immediately reached out to catch it, opened it, and read aloud.
"Report of third public toilet regurgitation incident at Bethnal Green, please investigate immediately—this is really damned..."
Sherlock and Sirius were still surveying the office when Harry reflexively asked.
"Toilet regurgitation?"
"Those anti-Muggle pranksters did it."
Mr. Weasley said with a frown.
"There were two incidents last week, one in Wimbledon, another at Elephant and Castle.
Muggles flush the toilet, and instead of disappearing, the filth—ugh, you can imagine.
Poor people keep calling those—pipe people, I think that's what they call them.
You know, those people who fix pipes and such."
"You mean plumbers?"
"Right, that's it!
But of course, even when they go, there's nothing they can do.
Anyway, I just hope we can catch whoever's doing this."
"Won't the Aurors catch them?"
"Oh no, this sort of minor matter doesn't require Aurors, ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol can handle it—ah, you three, this is Perkins."
Just then, a stooped, somewhat timid-looking old wizard with a head of soft white hair walked into the room slightly out of breath. Mr. Weasley introduced him in time.
"Ah, Arthur!"
Having just entered; Perkins didn't look at the three but said urgently.
"Thank goodness, I was just worrying about what to do... I didn't even know whether to wait here for you...
I just sent an owl to your house, but you obviously didn't receive it.
Ten minutes ago, an urgent message arrived—"
"I already know about the toilet regurgitation," Mr. Weasley said, showing an expression of having everything under control.
"No, no, not the toilets—"
Perkins said breathlessly, "It's about Peter's trial! They want you to bring everyone directly to the Minister's office."
Mr. Weasley gasped sharply; his face instantly paler than parchment.
His hand trembled, nearly letting the toilet regurgitation report slip to the floor.
"The Minister's office? Right now?"
He cried out, his voice full of disbelief and panic. "But we just arrived! Perkins, why wasn't there advance..."
"I only just received the owl myself, Arthur!"
Perkins was equally flustered, his forehead was covered in beads of sweat as he explained urgently.
"Urgent notice! Says the Minister himself is personally waiting, requiring Mr. Potter and... er... Mr. Black to come immediately, and Mr. Holmes too!"
As he spoke, his gaze swept over Harry and Sirius, finally landing on Sherlock.
Though the situation was urgent, his look still carried a curiosity like viewing an exotic creature.
"Merlin's beard! This... this is a disaster!
We should have gone straight to the first floor; how did I bring you all the way here?
Quick! Quick, follow me!"
Mr. Weasley said, grabbing his coat from the chair back and throwing it on haphazardly without even bothering to button it, then rushed toward the door.
He stuffed the toilet regurgitation report into Perkins's hands.
Perkins quickly pressed himself against the filing cabinets to make way, allowing him to rush out of the office.
Mr. Weasley burst from the office and ran some distance before realizing no one had followed.
Turning back—good grief!
Sherlock, Harry, and Sirius had only just exited the office.
Aside from Harry looking somewhat anxious, Sherlock and Sirius both appeared unhurried.
"What are you doing?"
Mr. Weasley immediately became anxious.
"Since this is a notice just received, we'll take our time getting there. There's still plenty of time before Peter's trial anyway."
Sherlock said calmly.
"I don't understand."
Sirius tilted his head. "Arthur, why are you so anxious? Take it easy, the sky won't fall."
Mr. Weasley paced anxiously in place, sweat soaking his temples.
"You truly don't understand!
A personal summons from the Minister means the situation has escalated!
Peter's matter could at any moment—"
"—could make Fudge's robes a few wrinkles more creased."
Sirius lazily interrupted him, casually flicking dust off the faded nameplate, his tone dripping with obvious sarcasm.
"Arthur, I remember you weren't like this back in the day. Looks like you've been at the Ministry too long, you've picked up some bad habits here.
You should know the people who should be anxious now aren't us—if Fudge were truly urgent, he'd naturally come see us himself. Since he hasn't, it means things aren't that urgent."
"Sirius is quite right."
Sherlock nodded in agreement. "The most ironic part of power games is that when the weaker party no longer fears the rules, those who make the rules lose their voice instead."
Seeing that both Sherlock and Sirius held this attitude, Mr. Weasley was speechless.
Easy for you to say, but I have a family to support. If not for survival, who'd want to work every day?
Fortunately, his department frequently dealt with Muggles, which suited his tastes, so he actually found work quite interesting.
But in this situation... however anxious he was, it was useless. He couldn't exactly grab Harry and run, could he?
He could only helplessly follow the three at normal speed back to the lift.
During this time, Harry felt somewhat embarrassed and actually took the initiative to quicken his pace, which significantly increased Mr. Weasley's favorable impression of him.
Fortunately, at this time there weren't as many people taking the lift as before, so it didn't take long to reach their destination.
"Level One, Minister of Magic and Support Staff."
The lift doors opened, revealing thickly carpeted flooring.
"Minister of Magic" wasn't "the Minister of Magic's office" but a specific department, including the offices of senior Ministry officials.
All the offices had gleaming wooden doors with small nameplates bearing the occupant's name and position.
At a glance, one could see the Minister of Magic's Assistant's Office, Minister of Magic's Advisor's Office, Senior Undersecretary's Office, and so on.
This arrangement formed a stark contrast with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office they'd just visited.
"The Minister's office is at the very end."
After reaching this level, Mr. Weasley was no longer anxious. He took a deep breath and led the three toward the depths of the corridor.
Finally, they stopped before an office door.
[Cornelius Fudge—Minister of Magic]
Mr. Weasley reached out and knocked.
Hearing Fudge's voice from within, he pushed open the door.
He stepped back, indicating the three should enter first.
Sirius took the lead without hesitation.
Sherlock and Harry followed in turn, with Mr. Weasley entering last.
When he closed the door and turned around, he couldn't help being startled.
Because the office didn't contain only Fudge.
Several professors from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Lupin were all here.
Seeing these familiar faces, Mr. Weasley, after his initial surprise, couldn't help breathing a long sigh of relief.
As soon as he saw Dumbledore, a strong emotion rose within him, making him feel grounded and full of hope.
It seemed Sherlock and Sirius had good reason for being so calm. But what Mr. Weasley hadn't expected was that upon seeing Sirius, the first to come forward wasn't any of these Hogwarts professors, but Minister of Magic Fudge himself.
That overly enthusiastic manner seemed particularly jarring in the dim, luxurious Minister's office.
He gripped Sirius's hand tightly, his face plastered with a smile Mr. Weasley hadn't seen in all this time.
"Ah, Mr. Black, you're finally here!"
Fudge raised his volume as if afraid people couldn't hear. "I thought you and Harry would come with Headmaster Dumbledore and the others!
What I need to say is, our time is very tight, extremely tight. We need to immediately set the tone regarding Peter Pettigrew's matter."
While enthusiastically shaking Sirius's hand, he turned his gaze to Mr. Weasley, who had just sighed with relief.
"Arthur! My dear Arthur!"
Almost instantly, Fudge's tone switched from warmth toward Sirius to concern for his subordinate. "Regarding that urgent report your department should handle, that toilet at Bethnal Green..."
"I know about this matter, Minister. You mean..."
"The matter is urgent!"
Fudge said firmly.
"Those poor residents... I must immediately know the situation on site and the handling progress!
You know, public confidence—we cannot let them lose confidence in us!
Arthur, you must take responsibility!"
Mr. Weasley, having just recovered from the comfort of Dumbledore's presence, was immediately struck dizzy again by the Minister's heavy responsibility.
What was this situation?
The color drained from his face almost instantly, that toilet regurgitation emergency memo handed to Perkins suddenly feeling scalding again.
"Minister, I..."
"Go immediately, Arthur!"
Fudge urged imperiously. "Go personally. I want you to obtain the first-hand report!
This matter concerns the Ministry's efficiency in handling emergencies!"
He waved his hand dismissively, like dispatching a subordinate to handle a troublesome minor matter.
Completely ignoring that Mr. Weasley was the one who had brought Harry and Sirius here.
Mr. Weasley opened his mouth, his gaze sweeping over Dumbledore's calm face and McGonagall's serious expression.
On one side was the Minister's strict order and a public welfare issue troubling Muggles; on the other, Peter's crucial trial and the key figures he'd just brought.
At this moment, the beads of sweat that had just receded from Mr. Weasley's forehead reappeared.
"But, Minister..."
"Go quickly, Arthur!"
Seeing Mr. Weasley still dawdling here, Fudge's tone began turning impatient.
Of course, he also noticed Mr. Weasley's expression, so mentioned offhandedly.
"As for Peter's side... Headmaster Dumbledore and these others are here, you can be at ease. But! You should know that every minute you're late could be causing damage to the Ministry's image!"
Though he spoke grandly, this heavy burden was quite effective on Mr. Weasley, the conscientious Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.
"...Yes, Minister! I'll go immediately!"
Mr. Weasley gritted his teeth, first looking apologetically at Harry and Sirius, then with complex emotions at Sherlock.
Finally, he nodded to the Hogwarts professors and left the Minister's office.
Though Fudge appeared to merely want to send him away, not truly caring about the public toilet regurgitation incident—
Still, in his upcoming work, he could make good use of this.
After all, this had now become a task personally deployed and arranged by the top leader himself.
With Minister Fudge's personal order, as long as he utilized it properly, he could take advantage of this opportunity.
Thinking of those poor Muggles soon no longer feeling sad and afraid, Mr. Weasley, who had already exited the Minister's office, couldn't help straightening his chest.
As long as the matter could be resolved, that was good enough.
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