Three strong men hauled a chest out of a deep tomb, dust spreading everywhere.
An insignificant man wiped his forehead, sweat and grime staining his rag. He was tired to his bones, starving and terribly homesick. What he was doing here? Even he wouldn't take jobs fishy as this one, but he quickly shook his head. Work was work. Why start having doubts when it was almost finished?
He stumbled as his feet caught into dirt, heavy chest swaying dangerously between three men. Their supervisor shrieked, "Be careful with that, you muggle fools! That is a thousand year old artifact!"
He gave a sigh of relief as finally finally they put the chest on to the ground. He looked up and saw Jonathan and Edgar wiping their clothes and bantering.
"What is in that chest? My wife?" Edgar chuckled.
"Yeah, my friend. My arms were killing me. I thought we were going to drop it for a second," Jonathan replied.
"Well, I'm happy we didn't drop it and crush our feet. What in earth is in here? It could break bones if accidentally slipped."
Their boss was watching them from afar.
"What a peculiar man," Charlie wondered as their eyes locked. Sneering eyes met with kind brown ones. His boss quickly twisted his head, pointing a stick at the documents in his hand.
Jonathan and Edgar looked at him.
"Yeah, shrieking like a girl while we were carrying the trunk. 'Careful!' 'Careful!' " Jonathan mocked, "If it was an easy job, he should have done it himself."
"What is he even wearing, a Halloween dress?" Edgar laughed.
"Don't insult the boss, guys," Charlie replied, "At least before he paid us."
"Yeah, right." Two men quickly returned to their bantering.
Truth be told, their boss was a little strange. He was dressed in a very unique manner. That, Charlie could easily agree. He was wearing a baby blue cape? robe? who knows what they call fashion these days with an oddly sticking hat on his head. That combined with his bizarre manners and words, formed a very fishy fishy looking person.
Charlie didn't mind it though. Work was work, and despite digging ancient and possibly illegal artifacts and meeting with strangely dressed bosses, he will do what he was paid for without question.
His boss beckoned him. Charlie jogged next to him, standing awkwardly.
"Right, Bradley-" the odd man started.
"Charlie"
"Yes Charlie," he corrected, "I want to be sure you won't be spilling the pumpkin juice? All right?"
He must made a face since the man continued, "Don't take the Kneazle out of the bag. Right, mister? No leakage? Understood?"
"Of course, sir. My lips are sealed."
"Ahem." He turned to two other men. Jonathan and Edgar were a few feet away, watching his interaction with the boss.
"Thank you, you Mug- I mean workers for your hard work. Ministry would certainly remember your delicate efforts," the weird man begun.
"What about the pay?" Edgar interrupted.
"Pay you? After you've been nothing but rough with this precious treasure? You would be mistaken with trolls, if I ever saw one, with how lazily you were handling it out of that tomb!" the weird man sneered.
"Whatever, my man. We don't care about your old trunk, just pay us and all of us will go in our own separate ways," Jonathan retorted.
"Its worth is certainly more than you, you, you-" the weird man stumbled through his words, "you muggle filth! I should not even pay you a knut for the possible damages you caused by swinging it!"
"Look, boss," Charlie grimaced, "I will be more careful next time."
"Doesn't matter now, does it? What's done is done. You," he pointed at the other two men, "start cleaning up. I will pay you in a minute."
"You," He beckoned him, "You come with me."
At last, Charlie got a proper look at the chest they were digging since morning. Pale dust and rot covered all edges and sides but even dirt could not conceal the stunning artefact they unearthed. Carvings of dragons and fantastical creatures covered the hard wooden surface, dark brown wood decorated very heavily. That looks ancient!
"Try to open the chest, will you?" the weird man mumbled.
"Yes sir."
He quickly brought his tool bag next to him and started to do what he was asked to do. Or rather attempted.
Charlie did not notice initially, but the chest was massive. It was a miracle they could carry it without breaking their backs, he thought. So wide and tall, it looked like a full closet. A dwarf's closet, he laughed to himself. Leave the silly thoughts Charlie. Go back to work.
The lock looked simple enough. He brought his tool under it. Is that real gold?
He pushed and pushed. But it would not open. It would not even bulge. Tricky one, are you?
He pulled his chain saw from the tool bag. Just wait you bastard, just you wait.
Charlie started sweating. Why won't you open, you are only a closet. He pulled his whole weight above it. This won't work, he muttered to himself.
He looked up to his boss. "Undeserving low-breeding filthy muggles," his boss kept mumbling to himself. "They can't even open a trunk, unbelievable!"
His peering eyes found his.
"What good are you? Stop staring and continue your work."
"Yes sir."
Despite his long efforts, the chest would not open. Not even an inch. Not even a quarter of an inch. He was frustrated to say the least. He looked at the descending sun above him. Goodbye, my lunch.
If not for the almost silent Whoosh he heard, Charlie wouldn't raised his head.
Red hair and purple robes waved slightly in the warm summer breeze. Huh?
"There you are Unspeakable Abbott. Thank you for finally gracing us with your presence today!"
"Quit the shit, Mr. Sykes. Let's look at what you have found."
A woman stood next to his boss. Seemingly talking to him with the same odd language.
"I hope you won't be wasting my time, Mr. Sykes," Mrs. Abbott spoke. Her voice sharp as the saw he was holding in his hand. "Certainly, it wouldn't be the first time."
"Of course not. Of course not."
Mrs. Abbott and his boss walked next to him. "Muggle?" Mrs. Abbott raised an eyebrow to his boss.
He looked embarrassed.
"It's easier to deal with," his boss muttered, "I already paid and obliviated the other two. According the Ministry's rules, of course."
"What would you need muggles for, Mr. Sykes? This did not happen before," said the woman.
"Anti-levitation charms are placed on the artefact. If not for that, I could easily levitate it myself, you know." He puffed his chest.
"Only you, Mr. Sykes, would be proud of casting a first year spell." His cheeks blotched. "Let's look closer, shall we?"
She pulled a wooden stick from her robes, trailing it on the carvings. What's with weird people with sticks?
"Incredible. You might have hit the Graphorn's eye in this one, Mr. Sykes," whispered Mrs. Abbott. "Who knows which riches this possesses?"
His boss had the audacity to look humbled.
"And who might you be?" she was addressing him.
"Um... Charlie, hi. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," her expression indicated otherwise, "Your job here is finished. Mr. Sykes, please pay him."
His boss rushed to his side, pulling a purse from his robes. How did it even fit there?
"Here Bradbury," he spoke, "Your pay, here take it," he pointed at his palm. A few gold coins sat there.
"What?"
"Take it."
"Okay?"
"It was good making business with you, Brandy. We, the Ministry, will certainly remember your efforts despite you not being so usefu-" Mrs. Abbott hit him on his shoulder, "I mean, with your extremely beneficial endeavors, of course. We wouldn't uncover this artifact if not for you," he stopped abruptly.
"Merlin's balls! Someone gave us away. Look," he indicated an odd looking bush a feet away. Shadows were dancing around it despite the lack of sun on the sky above.
"Concealment charm, damn you," he spited, "One of the lackeys of the Daily Prophet is here."
"I should alert the Ministry before they publish anything then."
She waved his wand towards that bush. One person jumped out of it. One odd looking person. Just like them. What have I gotten myself into?
"You cannot do this!" he was shouting, waving his stick between the boss and the woman, "There's something called Free Press! The wizarding world should be aware of this discovery!"
"We can and we will, you know that Mr. Spinnet," said Mrs. Abbott. "Stop struggling or it will be much more harder."
What just happened? He what? What?
The woman's face turned to him.
"Goodbye, Mr. Charles."
"Wha-" The woman pointed her wooden stick to his face.
"Obliviate."
