3. Spirit Levels.
"Another road with no sign. What does the map say?" asked Kiki.
"Go left," said David. "This should be the C961, Althers to Bumpus. This will be the last of it; about 10 miles to go. The property is a mile beyond Bumpus on the north side of the road, and the developer has a large advertisement on it."
"David, does any of this make sense to you? How are they going to sell hundreds of lots, on an unpaved C-road in the middle of nowhere? And when and if all those buyers are here, where are they going to work, for heaven's sake?"
"Not mine to reason why. If the gits wanted to pay me to stake out lots on Arctic pack ice, I'd just ask how many and how big."
The convoy drove past the sign and never saw it....not surprising, since the sign had been momentarily added to the charmed area, and so was quite invisible. That camouflage was removed once the Land Rovers were out of sight.
Snape and fellow teachers now spoiled the sunny day by introducing some "virtual" gloomy weather along the path toward Hogsmeade. A charm that usually regulated the Great Hall's ceiling brightness was used to lower the light level near the border of the property. Madam Sprout's charm for daily misting in the greenhouses was used to create a thick fog in the same area.
Meanwhile, a mile down the road, Kiki decided to ask directions of a hunter walking in the road; women always ask directions. Conveniently positioned to help her, the hunter was Jock Noonan. Jock told them he knew exactly where the lot was, and was headed there himself. He would gladly point it out for them! At their invitation, he hopped in the back seat of the lead vehicle.
"So, then," said Jock, "are you folk thinking of building a house in that God-forsaken place?"
"No," answered David, "we're just engineers for the promoters. We figure where to plow the roads, how to turn the swamp into a nice lake, where to put the houses and whatnot."
"Oh, bad luck, I'd say; the whole place is something of a disaster. We only go there in bright sunlight, and we stay far away from the swamp, and the forest, and the old ruins. All sorts of critters and strange noises. If a pet or farm animal wanders in, for sure it won't be seen again. No one ever goes in at night."
"Why do you go in there at all?"
"My friends and I hunt in the place. There's a hunt right now, in fact, so keep ducking."
"What do you hunt?"
"Snakes and ferrets. The snake meat's good, and very plentiful. As for the ferrets, we shoot them just to wipe 'em out. Rabid, the whole lot of 'em; they caught it from the owls. Well, here we are!"
Sure enough, there was the sign, big as day. Kiki and David looked at each other.
"It's no wonder you missed it. Not just the fog off the swamp, either. That sign vanishes, it does. Last week it was gone all day Wednesday. Popped right back the next morning. Very odd."
Kiki rolled her eyes, and led the convoy down the dirt road. The fog thickened.
They did not drive very far, of course. The Land Rovers were designed for rough terrain, but not for charms. Electricity is just not a part of life in the charmed area, where even Colin Creevey's flashgun had to run on magic instead of batteries. The vehicles rolled to a halt, and refused to restart.
"Oh!" said Jock, exiting the back seat. "I should've told ya 'bout that rumour; never tested it meself. There's supposed to be some sort of curse in here. Anything electrical has troubles. Well, you're engineers; maybe you'll figure it out. They say it has to do somehow with a man who was nearly beheaded in a lightning storm . If you see a ghost with a hinged neck, that's him -- Nick the Nasty. Watch out for that one, I tell you. Run if you see him."
"A ghost??" responded David.
"Told you it was a horrid place. And Nick's not half-bad, compared to the giant."
"A giant...?"
"Yep. Nine feet tall, he is, brawny and ready for a fight. Carries a crossbow, too. We don't know what he shoots with that, and we shan't stick around to ask'em. "
"Yes, thank you, sir," said Kiki. "Have a nice day." Jock waved, and strolled away into the fog.
She smirked. "Clearly, that one doesn't want to see anyone improving this property. Don't go near the forest! Don't go near the swamp! Rabid owls and ferrets! If he only hunts in bright sunlight, why is he out in a fog? Giants, and ghosts, and snakes, oh my!! Oh, what a crock!"
"Right. Crock," said David, unconvinced by her bravado. "Uh..... boss, how's your calculator?"
"Got it right here," she said. "All charged up and --" But, of course, to her dismay, it wasn't working.
"Well, Mr. Noonan? Did you inspire them?"
"Did me best, Professor Dumbledore. The lesson'll sink in, once things start hoppin'."
"And slithering."
"Heeheehee! No obvious weapons on them. Just lots of survey gear and paper."
"Good. I'll tip Professor Snape. You can notify the hunters to start it off. Hagrid, you may have at it with the creatures. I'll let Sir Nicholas and the students know we're starting."
Hagrid hurried to his hut, and checked the critter pens. Yep, the school's owls had done their overnight task well; one pen was now chock full of live snakes, and the other loaded with mice and rats. He started packing them in sacks. There would be plenty of time later for the owls to feast on these delicacies, but first they must be put to use.