Well-connected Person

"How was your summer vacation?"

The two turned into a desolate street, with only a few run-down offices remaining around them. It was practically a different world from the bustling street they had just come from.

"Not bad. Are you planning to watch the Quidditch World Cup this year?"

A battered red telephone box some distance away caught his attention. He remembered that one entrance to the Ministry of Magic was in a public toilet, while another was an old telephone box.

"No. The British team has always played terribly. They haven't won a trophy in thirty years, and they'll probably lose badly again this year." Bard had little faith in Britain's Quidditch teams.

"That's normal. This country has been going downhill for ages. It feels so lifeless. The Muggles have caused quite a few problems lately too, to the point that I don't even dare eat beef anymore." Albert casually found a topic to chat about with Bard.

"We're here." Bard pointed at the battered red telephone box ahead and said to Albert, "You go in first."

"The entrance is here?"

Albert opened the door of the old telephone box and stepped inside. Turning to Bard behind him, he asked, "I'm actually curious. Why don't we just Apparate directly to the Ministry of Magic?"

Bard squeezed into the telephone box after him, picked up the broken receiver, and said to Albert, "Just treat it as a novel experience."

"It certainly is novel. How do we use it?" Albert looked over the battered telephone box, figuring that Muggles probably would not wander in here by accident. At most, they might wonder why this decrepit phone box had not been torn down.

"You need to dial 62442." Bard reached out and dialed the number, demonstrating for Albert. "The main reason is