"Come on, you go in first!" Tonks opened the door of the telephone booth, then stepped in after him.
She lifted the crooked receiver, holding it above her head as she frowned at the dial pad in confusion. "What was the number again…"
Jon watched, amused, as she fumbled through the keypad, misdialing again and again.
"62442!" he finally couldn't resist speaking up.
"Oh… right… Ouch!" Tonks froze for a second, then jumped up excitedly—only to smack her head against the glass door of the booth. She clutched her head with a groan...
The whole movement happened in one smooth motion!
"You… you alright?" Jon asked with a wry smile.
"I… I'm fine!" Tonks rubbed the spot on her head. "Wait, how did you know the code?"
"Because I've been here before…" Jon explained helplessly. "My great-aunt lives in England."
Luckily, Tonks didn't press further. She turned her attention back to the phone and dialed "62442."
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and purpose of visit," came a cold female voice from the receiver.
"Ah… I'm Auror Nymphadora Tonks from the Auror Office. I'm escorting wizard Christopher Patrick from Austria to the Ministry for inspection and registration!"
"Thank you," the woman's voice said coolly. "Visitor, please take the badge and pin it to the front of your clothing."
Jon picked up the silver badge that had dropped from the coin slot and pinned it to his chest. Then he felt the telephone booth slowly sink underground as the booth descended, the world around them fading into darkness...
...
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."
About a minute later, as the voice spoke, the telephone booth door opened.
Tonks pulled Jon out, and he found himself standing at the edge of a grand hall.
At the center of the entrance stood a large fountain. In its pool rose a group of pure gold statues—the tallest, a dignified male wizard, holding his wand high toward the sky; surrounding him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf.
All around them, wizards and witches bustled about—there must have been hundreds.
"We need to go through inspection first!" Tonks said, pulling Jon toward a nearby table on the left, stopping under a sign marked "Security Check."
"Erik, I've brought a foreign visitor!" Tonks called to the sleepy-looking wizard behind the sign. "He needs to be checked."
The wizard stood lazily, lifting a long, thin golden rod—flexible and slender as a car antenna—and swept it up and down Jon's chest and back.
"No anomalies," he said, before sinking back into his chair.
"Alright, thanks!" Tonks nodded to him, then turned to Jon. "Now we need to head to the Department of International Magical Cooperation to get you registered."
Following her through a doorway, they entered a smaller hall lined with at least twenty elevators. They stepped into one and waited for about a minute.
"Fifth floor: Department of International Magical Cooperation—includes the International Magical Trade Standards Association, the International Magical Law Office, and the British Seat of the International Wizards' Union," Jon read from the notice inside the elevator.
"We're headed to the International Magical Law Office!" Tonks said as the doors opened, dashing out first.
Jon had no choice but to keep up. They arrived at a quiet, nearly empty office.
"Christopher Patrick, a minor wizard from Austria, needs to register his wand!" Tonks called out loudly.
A wizard in a peacock-blue robe, with a poorly shaven beard, looked up from his desk.
"Wand," he muttered.
Jon pulled a wand from his pocket and handed it over. The wizard tossed it onto a peculiar brass contraption that looked like a single-pan scale.
The machine began to tremble slightly, and a narrow strip of parchment shot quickly from a slot at the bottom.
The wizard tore off the strip and read aloud, "Willow wood, eleven inches, dragon heartstring core, twenty-one years old. Correct?"
"Yes!" Jon nodded. "It used to belong to my father. He bought it from Gregorovitch during his third year at Durmstrang."
It was common for sons to inherit their fathers' wands, so the wizard showed no suspicion.
He stood up, fetched a small vial from a nearby shelf, and poured its white, cotton-like contents over Jon's wand. The wand absorbed it instantly.
"All done." He handed the wand back to Jon.
...
"Thank you, Miss Tonks!"
"No problem—just doing my job. Good luck at Hogwarts!"
After parting ways with Tonks, Jon glanced at the wand now marked with The Trace, then slipped it back into his pocket. Of course, it wasn't his real green bamboo wand—it was Barty Crouch Jr.'s.
Barty Crouch Jr. had been "dead" for over a decade, so no one at the Ministry could possibly remember what his wand looked like. Jon could safely register it here, ensuring that his real wand remained untracked.
Now, he could freely use magic outside of school.
Alone again, Jon took the elevator back to the Ministry's grand hall.
As he passed the fountain, a shrill, girlish voice reached his ears from ahead. He recognized that voice instantly—it was etched into his memory from his previous life.
It was Dolores Umbridge. Though she stood on the other side of the fountain, Jon couldn't see her face.
"I need you to assign me two Dementors, Yaxley…" Her tone was sharp and commanding.
"You know that's difficult, Miss Umbridge…" the wizard named Yaxley stammered. "Every move the Dementors make is strictly monitored by the Ministry."
"That's an order!" Umbridge's voice snapped again. "If you can't manage it, then you won't be working at Azkaban anymore!"
"I… very well," Yaxley said bitterly. "Give me a week—seven days, and I'll have two Dementors ready for you."
A silvery laugh followed, sending chills down Jon's spine.
But he walked past as if nothing had happened, pretending he hadn't heard a word.