After purchasing everything on their school list, Vizet and Luna returned home first to sort the items by category. Once they'd double-checked that nothing was missing, they boarded the Knight Bus once more, this time bound for Whitehall Road — the location of the Ministry of Magic.
The street was rather unique. Not only was it home to the hidden entrance of the Ministry, but it was also lined with Muggle government buildings, connecting such places as the Houses of Parliament and Downing Street. Power — both magical and non-magical — ran through its cobbled spine.
To their relief, all the beds on the Knight Bus were available this time, and the journey passed without the chaos of their last trip. The bus zipped and lurched its way through the streets, swerving between double-deckers and lampposts, and finally screeched to a halt in a shadowy alley tucked between tall brick buildings.
They stepped off into a narrow backstreet. The ground was uneven, riddled with potholes and trickles of stagnant water. The faint scent of mildew and city grime lingered in the air.
Vizet wrinkled his nose in disappointment. He'd imagined something more — grand, perhaps — given the Ministry's importance and its proximity to so many prestigious Muggle institutions.
"I think so too," Luna said brightly, as if continuing an invisible thought. "If it were built next to a zoo, that would've been perfect."
Vizet laughed. "That way, once we got our passports, we could pop in and visit the animals."
They glanced around until, half-hidden behind a wall covered in graffiti and ivy, they found it: a battered red telephone booth. Several panes of glass were shattered, and the receiver hung limp on its cord. From the outside, it looked abandoned — forgotten.
The derelict appearance, combined with its unusual location, was surprisingly clever. Most people wouldn't give it a second glance.
"It's really... unique," Vizet muttered, opening the creaky door. Inside was a rotary dialer of the old-fashioned sort.
He picked up the receiver and dialed: 6 – 2 – 4 – 4 – 2
The code to access the Ministry.
As the dial clicked back into place, a cold, mechanical female voice echoed through the handset:"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name, occupation, and business."
Luna squeezed into the cramped booth beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
"Vizet Lovegood, Luna Lovegood," he replied cautiously. "Hogwarts students. Here to apply for wizard passports for international travel."
"Thank you" said the voice. "Please take your badges and pin them in a clearly visible location to avoid unnecessary complications. Thank you for your cooperation."
Two silver badges clinked down through what used to be the coin return slot. Each was inscribed with glowing magical script:
Vizet LovegoodPurpose: Passport Application
Luna Lovegood
Purpose: Passport Application
Before either of them could respond, the booth gave a low rumble. With a deep mechanical groan, the floor began to lower beneath their feet, carrying them slowly underground.
"It's like a Muggle elevator," Luna whispered beside him, her voice muffled in the enclosed space.
Even in the darkness, Vizet could sense her wide eyes flicking curiously around. The phone booth trembled slightly, the sound of magical gears and friction humming all around them.
It was an unusual way to enter one of the most important institutions in the magical world — but it was clever. And it was working.
About a minute later, a faint golden light flickered at their feet inside the telephone booth.
The light expanded gradually, stretching into a slender beam that swept slowly up their bodies, scanning from head to toe. It paused briefly over their badges, then vanished in a soft blink.
The same cool, mechanical voice returned: "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. We hope you enjoy a pleasant day."
With a hiss and a soft click, the door of the booth popped open.
Before them stretched the vast Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
Beneath their feet gleamed a polished black wooden floor, so immaculate it reflected the glimmer of the high ceiling above. That ceiling shimmered a rich peacock blue, set with moving golden symbols — runes, letters, constellations — that danced and drifted like falling starlight.
The grand hall was mostly clad in dark hues: ebony walls, bronze statues, towering pillars. Light streamed in from enchanted sources, but the overall feeling remained cool and solemn.
Luna tilted her head, mesmerized by the ceiling. "Those patterns…" she murmured dreamily. "They look like a nebulae in the night sky."
Vizet followed her gaze. "It's like… each one is a wizard. And together, they form something greater — like a constellation of magic. A living nebula."
Luna turned to look at him, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. "I like that."
As they walked, Vizet quietly reached out with the Eye of Insight, absorbing the ancient magical power embedded in the walls, the floor, the very air.
Drawing on his knowledge of astronomy, he lifted his hand and began connecting the floating golden symbols above them — linking one rune to another, tracing imaginary lines across the peacock-blue ceiling like celestial cartography.
"See that one?" he pointed. "It's almost like Orion. And that — maybe like Lyra."
Luna followed his gestures, her eyes glowing with wonder. For a moment, they sparkled brighter than the shifting runes above.
They soon reached the center of the Atrium, where the grand fountain stood.
Suspended above the gently rippling water was a gilded statue of a wizard, robes billowing, wand raised proudly toward the ceiling. Surrounding him were four smaller statues: a serene-looking witch, a centaur rearing up on its hind legs, and two goblins in near-identical poses, heads bowed in reverence.
Luna stepped closer, her gaze thoughtful. "Goblins and centaurs would never wear such expressions," she said quietly. "They're too proud to bow to anyone."
Vizet nodded. He recalled the firm, dignified air of the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest — and the sharp-witted goblins of Gringotts. "I think... if Bane saw these statues, he'd charge straight at them and smash them to pieces."
Luna laughed softly. "That was his name? Bane? The names of goblins are usually even more curious... Ragnok, Griphook... They're full of edge."
Their footsteps carried them to a service desk marked Security Check Desk — just as the cool voice from the phone booth had instructed.
Behind the counter slouched a wizard with his chin resting in one hand, lazily flipping through a Daily Prophet. His expression was the very picture of indifference.
He glanced up at their badges with minimal effort.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," he said flatly.
Reaching for a wand-length detector rod — an odd device shaped like a tuning fork — he waved it vaguely around them, then motioned toward another peculiar instrument nearby. It looked like a cross between a satellite receiver and a gramophone, with several miniature dishes jutting out from it at strange angles.
"Wand check," he added with a half-stifled yawn.
Vizet and Luna complied. The machine gave a faint hum, followed by a low vibration. Then it whirred, coughed, and spat out a small parchment slip.
The man skimmed it aloud:
"Dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, used for one year... Unicorn tail hair, ten and a half inches... brand new?"
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