Rita Skeeter had never experienced entering the Ministry of Magic through the visitor's entrance.

In her mind, the only ways to arrive at the Ministry were through the Floo Network or Apparition.

Clearly, this wasn't a commonly used entrance or exit—Rita stepped into the phone booth, and found that the space inside was indeed as small as it looked from the outside, even smaller... Tonks squeezed in from behind, standing beside her, and closed the door behind them.

The cramped old-fashioned phone booth was never designed with double occupancy in mind.

Rita was pressed against the phone equipment.

The phone hung crookedly from the wall, as if some vandal had tried to yank it off.

Tonks smiled apologetically, reaching over Rita and behind her to pick up the receiver.

"I don't understand why we can't use a more civilized way to get to the Ministry."

"Well, because this way there will be a visitor record... This record is based on magic, and it's difficult to erase through conventional means."

Tonks explained casually, while holding the receiver above her head, her eyes fixed on the dial.

"Let me see... 6..." She dialed the number. "2... 4... another 4... another 2..."

"The Ministry even has—a phone number?" Rita raised an eyebrow, asking with some surprise.

"Oh no, it's a password code, using the Muggle keypad alphabet—m-A-g-i-C..."

Tonks shrugged, glancing at the somewhat perplexed Rita.

"Not all wizards are proficient in Apparition, or have the chance to access Floo Powder... There's also a considerable number of Squibs, inept wizards, and half-bloods—I mean those with magical bloodlines—and even non-human visitors. Setting up a special entrance for them is quite necessary, or so the files say..."

After a brief explanation, Tonks released her fingers from the dial.

As the dial whirred back to its original position, a woman's cold voice echoed in the phone booth, but the voice didn't come from the receiver Tonks was holding. It was loud and clear, as if an invisible woman was standing right beside them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit."

"Shh..." Tonks raised a finger, signaling Rita to remain silent for the moment.

Then, she cleared her throat and spoke clearly and precisely, "Nymphadora Tonks, Auror Office. I am accompanying Rita Skeeter, a reporter from *The Daily Prophet*, to the Ministry of Magic today. She has information about a magical crime involving a prominent public figure..."

"Understood," the woman's cold voice said. "Guests, please take a badge and attach it to the front of your clothing."

Clang, clatter.

Rita saw something slide out of the metal chute beneath the telephone.

She picked it up: a square silver badge with the words: Rita Skeeter, Informant.

Rita pinned the badge to the front of her green coat, and the cold woman's voice sounded again.

"Ministry of Magic guests, you are required to undergo inspection at the security checkpoint and register your wands. The security checkpoint is located at the end of the Atrium."

The floor of the phone booth suddenly trembled.

They slowly sank underground.

Rita frowned slightly, watching the sidewalk outside the phone booth's glass window rise higher and higher, until finally a darkness loomed above them.

She couldn't see anything, and could only hear the monotonous, grating noise as the phone booth descended underground.

About a minute passed, but it felt much longer to Rita. A thin ray of golden light shone on her fashionable high heels, and then the golden light gradually widened, expanding to her body, and finally shining directly into her face. She had to squint to avoid tearing up.

"The Ministry of Magic hopes you have a pleasant day." The woman's voice said.

The door of the phone booth swung open, and Tonks strode out first, with Rita following behind, feeling slightly relieved.

They were standing at one end of a long, magnificent hall, with dark wooden floors polished to a reflective shine. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with glittering gold symbols that were constantly moving and changing, like a giant aerial bulletin board.

The walls on all sides were paneled with dark, shiny wood, with many gilded fireplaces set into the paneling.

Every few seconds, with a soft pop, a wizard would suddenly emerge from a fireplace on the left.

And on the right, several people were lined up in front of each fireplace, waiting to leave.

In the middle of the Atrium was a fountain.

A set of pure gold statues, larger than life, stood in the middle of a circular pool.

The tallest was a noble-looking wizard, holding his wand high, pointing it towards the sky. Surrounding him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The centaur, goblin, and house-elf all looked up at the two wizards with infinite admiration. Streams of sparkling water shot out from the tip of the wizard's wand, from the centaur's arrow, from the goblin's pointed hat, and from the house-elf's two ears.

Wizard… oh no, a magical government with wizard supremacy ideology—

Rita Skeeter's eyebrows twitched slightly.

In fact, during her past career as a journalist, she had had very few opportunities to interview at the Ministry of Magic.

All around, there was the tinkling of water, the pops and cracks of people Apparating, and the chaotic footsteps of hundreds of male and female wizards. They wore the listless expressions characteristic of office workers, striding towards the row of golden gates at the end of the Atrium.

This was the Atrium, located on the eighth level below ground at the Ministry of Magic—if any wizard dared to cause trouble here, they would be subdued in an instant.

Of course, provided it was within the Ministry of Magic's defensive capabilities.

"This way," Tonks said.

They joined the crowd, squeezing among the Ministry of Magic employees and moving forward. Rita looked around, some of them holding stacks of precarious parchment, some carrying tattered briefcases, and others reading *The Daily Prophet* as they walked.

If nothing went wrong, the front-page news they would be reading at this time tomorrow should be related to her.

Rita Skeeter thought heavily.

The only difference was whether her name appeared in the main text or in the author's column.

"This way, Rita."

Tonks said, as they left the flow of Ministry of Magic employees heading towards the golden gates. Beside a table on the left, under a sign that read "Security Checkpoint," sat a wizard in peacock-blue robes with an unshaven beard.

As they approached, he looked up, putting down the *Daily Prophet* in his hand.

"I have brought a guest," Tonks said, pointing to Rita.

"Come over here," the wizard said in a listless tone.

Rita approached him, and the wizard raised a long golden rod, thin and flexible like a car antenna.

He used it to scan Rita from head to toe, front and back—for safety's sake, Rita did not carry the Foundation's badge, but when the metal rod swept over her handbag, it still emitted a beeping sound, not harsh but clearly not normal.

"Do you have... any magical items in your bag?"

The wizard frowned, his left hand on his hip, looking at Rita warily.

"Oh, it should be this..."

Rita opened her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a wand, a long, dazzlingly green quill, and a roll of parchment.

"This is my wand, and my Quick-Quotes Quill—as a reporter, it frees my hands to have a normal conversation with the interviewee. Honestly, this quill is almost as important as my wand. You should have read my articles..."

"Rita Skeeter? Well, can you prove it?"

The wizard's gaze slowly swept over the silver guest badge on Rita's chest, interrupting her.

"I need to confirm that it is indeed a magical quill, not other dangerous magical props—"

"Oh, of course. It's very simple."

Rita Skeeter nodded slowly, looking much more relaxed than before.

She spread the roll of parchment flat on the table, put the tip of the green quill into her mouth and sucked on it with relish for a while, then held the pen vertically on the parchment, the quill tube standing on the tip, trembling slightly, not even falling down when she let go.

"So, a simple test... My name is Rita Skeeter, *Daily Prophet* reporter."

The wizard lowered his head, staring intently at the quill.

As soon as Rita Skeeter finished speaking, the green quill began to write in a flamboyant manner, its tip gliding skillfully over the parchment.

"The glamorous blonde Rita Skeeter, 38 years old, chief reporter for *The Daily Prophet*, whose maverick quill has exposed many empty reputations..."

"That's enough—"

The wizard examined Rita's quill carefully and shrugged.

"Wand."

He muttered to Rita, put down the golden magic detector, and held out his hand.

Rita Skeeter handed over her wand.

The wizard tossed it onto a strange-looking brass machine that resembled a single-pan balance.

The machine began to vibrate slightly. A narrow strip of parchment shot out quickly from a slit at the bottom, recording Rita Skeeter's wand statistics, which was almost the magical world's way of verifying a wizard's identity—similar to a non-magical personal passport.

And this round of procedures was one of the reasons why they had to enter through the visitor entrance today.

If Rita Skeeter wanted to back out, then the wand detection was her last chance to retreat.

"I'll keep this," the wizard said, sticking the strip of parchment onto a small brass nail. "You can take this back."

He handed the wand back to Rita Skeeter, who was about to say something.

"Thank you, Eric."

Tonks, who had been waiting impatiently in the back, said quickly, pulling Rita back into the crowd heading towards the golden gates.

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Yay!