The Menagerie – Prequel

Twelve years prior…

Cletus Puckle was as unlucky as a wizard could get. He never won a door prize drawing. He always picked his boss in the Secret Santa Shuffle. If a doctor told him there was a slight chance he'd have a negative reaction to medication or need a more invasive operation, he was one of those special .3% of patients. Every-fifteen-minute busses missed his stop. The Hogsmead Public Library had been unable to accommodate his request of The Great Adventures of Buddy Bowtruckle for four straight years. (The Higdon Public Library proudly owned six copies, none of which had ever been out on loan.) And the one time he thought an animal took a shine to him, it turned out to be the wanted prisoner, Sirius Black.

When called to clean up a 'helluva mess' in the Time Room, Cletus grabbed his broom and supplies. Prepared for the worst, (because he'd seen it all… and would never return to the Brain Room, not even for extra hazard pay hours), he just tilted his head in befuddlement at the sight presented. Dropping his pail with a clattering thunk, Cletus stared perplexed at the thousands of bitty Time-Turners flitting from their shelves, crashing to the floor with a great tinkling rattle… and doing it all over again.

"Cor," he whispered, not wanting to intrude on their dance.

Cletus looked over his shoulder, waiting for someone to appear who could explain what was happening. He felt the need to say to someone, 'Oi, do you see all that? Have you ever in your life?' Scratching the back of his head, Cletus thought the glittering gold looked kinda pretty. He wondered when the blokes from the Unspeakable section might show up. But they all seemed to be too busy with something going on in the Hall of Prophecies. Looking over his shoulder again and not seeing anyone, he shrugged.

Wand in hand, he halted their screaming death with an Impedimenta jinx. Humming a Warbeck tune, Cletus got to it. The large shards were easy enough to pick out and throw in the rubbish bin. But as he held up the contents of his dustpan, which glittered back to him with an unnatural shimmer, a strangely irrational thought popped into his noggin and started creeping and crawling around. Cletus swept the floor clean and walked back to his locker, his pail slightly heavy, not that anyone bothered to notice.

He'd never been so lucky in his life. Perhaps that was how luck worked. It saved up. Gathered. Waited until it could spring on you all at once, then BAM! It fluttered and rained down like gold coins from the sky. They hadn't been gold coins really, but they might as well have been. Thousands of shimmering time turners raining down, falling, spiraling, crashing, picking themselves up, doing it all over again. Like magic even. And wasn't he the lucky lad?

Some of them weren't even broken. There were big and bitty uns that were perfectly fine. Not a scratch, but according to his instructions, they were all broken and everything needed sweeping. Cletus was a wizard who took orders as they came. Not to worry, boss man. The good time turners were swept up with the dust. A quick call to his friend Dung, and he'd have good dosh for a few things. He'd always wanted a hundred Galleons worth of scratch cards.

Cletus was just finished mending a broken tile from the visiting Centaur herd when his boss came running at him, ruddy cheeks puffed out and blowing steam.

"Time turners…" he labored, barely catching his breath. "You… cleaned them?"

Cletus nodded. "That's right. Two hours ago."

"What did… you do with them?"

He wasn't one to lie. He hadn't been one to steal either. Cletus thought about telling about the bucket full of shimmering, golden sands and beautifully intricate time turners hidden in his locker beneath a dirty rag. But then, everyone stole. He couldn't get most the tools he needed because Bob kept hawking them down at the market. The last project he worked on never was finished because most of the materials disappeared.

And that was just how things were at the Ministry. Everyone pushed as much as they could as far as they could before they could get an official rebuke. It was kind of like a rite of passage almost.

Cletus opened his mouth and said with a wince, "I flushed them down the Floo."

"Oh god." His boss paled. That afternoon his boss received an official rebuke.

Delicate pieces of gold so fine

Drop to the floor with a whine

their silenced wail

sitting in a pail

Become the Lost Sands of Time

Limerick by Apollinav