"Obliviate."

The unsuspecting man stumbled a few steps backwards; his eyes widening and mouth parting. However, soon all of his emotions were drained to an expressionless blank state.

The muggle's head strained around, eyes darting at his surroundings. He opened his mouth. "How did I..." he mumbled, "... get here?"

Intern Ruben Sykes relaxed his shoulders. Another successful day, another successful discovery. Okay, this is kind of once in a lifetime occasion but still...

The struggling journalist sat a few feet away, his mouth stuffed and hands tied behind his back. Pitiful, he thought, Look at the state of you, mudblood. He knew he shouldn't be too arrogant criticizing the journalist, but play stupid games, win stupid prizes. No one should expect to best Unspeakable Abbott in a duel—she is an Unspeakable for Merlin's sake. Everyone must have known that. Clearly, not everyone...

He snorted from his thoughts, "Loser."

The journalist looked at him with a look on his face. Really, as if he was saying. Really, you are telling me this?

"Fuck off."

Ruben raised his head. The muggle had wandered around, picking himself up, still with a wondered expression donning his features. Muggles are so stupid.

Ahem.

Anyway.

After facing Unspeakable Abbott, Intern Ruben Sykes realized something significant.

They had a problem.

One tiny problem.

How do you transport something with unbreakable anti-levitation and anti-apparition charms to the Ministry, at least miles from where they are standing, without being conspicuous?

(you don't)

Thankfully, Unspeakable Abbott had an idea.

"I'm not getting on that."

Unspeakable Abbott eyed Ruben, her smile seeming a little tight.

"You will."

He gulped.

"Ahem," someone interrupted them.

"Welcome to the Knight bus, emergency transport for stranded witch or wizards," the man standing at the edge of the bus, looking as if almost going to fall off, exclaimed, "My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this afternoon!"

"Umm…" Ruben turned to look at the Unspeakable Abbott.

"You are not much on the brainy side, are you?"

"Hey, don't insult my intelligence. If it's so clear, then tell me how we can carry the thing to the bus."

"Just because we cannot charm the chest does not mean we cannot charm ourselves."

"Oh."

"The quality of Hogwarts must have dropped more than I hoped so."

"Hey!"

The conductor was watching them from afar, leaning back to the door of the bus. "Y'all sure you don't need any help with that?" he asked.

"No, we are perfectly fine."

"Be careful, Mr. Sykes! I will hex you if you step on my foot one more time," said Unspeakable Abbott, sounding exasperated.

"Sorry."

They loaded the heavy load—with many minutes of uncoordinated cooperation and colorful curses—to the Knight Bus Unspeakable Abbott summoned, despite Ruben's initial protests.

Ruben curled his nose at the sight. Creaking beds and decapitated dolls crowded the interior of the bus. The chest they carried clumsily stuck between two beds.

A moment later, the young conductor shouted, "Hold on our dear passengers, Ministry of Magic we go!"

He would have been plastered to the nearest window as soon as the bus started moving if not for Abbott pulling back on his robe, as he was not holding onto any railings.

After long awkward pauses and rapid twists and turns in vibrant London streets, they reached the familiar phone box of the Ministry of Magic at last. Fitting the chest to the phone box was more complicated but Ruben and Unspeakable Abbott and the large chest somehow managed to fit into it. Simple answer: magic.

Ruben gave a long held breath at the familiar view of mold colored walls and grand water fountain at the entrance of the Ministry. The statues of the wizards were winking at him from their throne of beasts. Finally. Somewhere civilized.

"I'm not using that death-trap ever again!" he said to Unspeakable Abbott, as they were carrying the chest from the entrance.

"You probably won't use it, anyway. Stop pondering about frivolous matters and focus on the urgent task at hand."

As they were crossing next to the fountain, the many onlookers he and Unspeakable Abbott had gathered distracted Ruben. They looked as if they wondered why they were carrying an object seemingly the muggle way: manually. Ruben Sykes flushed at the implication.

Unspeakable Abbott noticed his hesitation and said, "Speed up, Mr. Sykes. Elevators are on the Eastern side."

"Um... Unspeakable Abbott," begun the anxious intern, "Where are we going now? Isn't the Office of Magical Artifacts positioned at the Western Wing?"

"We aren't going to Office of Magical Artifacts, Mr. Sykes," said the Unspeakable Abbott, a sense of dread starting to pool around his stomach. Please don't say, don't say…

"We are going to Department of Mysteries."


"Circe," started the Office Head of Magical Artifacts, "Please be reasonable. It would be the best if we took the artifact and inspected it first. After all, one of our interns found the artifact first."

It didn't take long for the Office Head Vincent Broadmoor to regret ever opening his mouth when he saw the fury on Abbott's eyes boring deep into his soul.

"How dare you order me around like an intern!" begun the woman, "Is your office even qualified to take these type of cases?"

His face flushed. He looks like red pumpkin, thought Intern Sykes.

"Of course, Department of Mysteries is going to take this case."

Perhaps, Mr. Broadmoor held onto no preservation. But their interaction that followed after would certainly be immortalized in the minds of every upcoming ministry interns and beyond.

To say the least, Mr. Broadmoor exploded.

"You pompous arrogant Unspeakables! I'm an Unspeakable so I know everything more than anybody else! No shit!" shouted Mr. Broadmoor. His veins bulging from his neck.

"This is my field of expertise, not yours!"

He was fuming. His eyes were darting in all directions when they caught his form. Him. Ruben.

Oh.

His mouth twisted.

Oh, no.

Spit flew in the air when Mr. Broadmoor started speaking once again.

"I didn't know Department Heads dropped everything to follow an intern's every whim."

Something dangerous flashed in Abbott's eyes.

Please, don't continue, please, please...

"Especially an intern not even from their own department," he halted as if trying to catch his breath to no avail.

When he saw the look in his eyes, he knew he was doomed.

No, no, no, no...

"But perhaps, Unspeakable Abbott, your affinity to Intern Sykes is nothing more blatant favoritism towards your family relations. I wouldn't expect that from you, as someone who so strongly advocates for transparency and equality in the Ministry!"

Fuck.

It was good knowing you Mr. Broadmoor. But you are about to get absolutely shredded.


"What is the source of this commotion?" the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge shouted, once seeing the two wizards with their wands drawn, pointed towards each other.

Upon closer inspection, he recognized them as Head Unspeakable Mrs. Abbott and Office Head of Magical Artifacts, Mr. Broadmoor.

Both of them were breathing heavily, their faces redder than the Disarming Charm.

Oh my goodness. What's going on here?

He rubbed a hand over his face. "I am not interrupting something private, am I?"

Both heads snapped to look at him.

"Minister Fudge—!" "Mr. Fudge!"

Cornelius Fudge sighed. This was not how I wanted to spend my day. With many interested onlookers too.

Mrs. Abbott and Mr. Broadmoor fell silent, seemingly understanding he was outranking both of them.

"Someone explain!" he called out, "What's going on here?"

Mrs. Abbott and Mr. Broadmoor eyed each other before rushing to explain.

" He attemp—" "This woman trie—" "take my— " "my department's—" "this chest is ours—" "no ours—"

They were silenced by the Minister. "Silence!"

"What are you? Two bickering children?" he exclaimed, "You, Unspeakable Abbott, go first."

Mr. Broadmoor breathed through his mouth. Mrs. Abbott smirked at him.

"Well, Minister Fudge, where should I start? Mr. Broadmoor is attempting to take an artifact belonging to the Department of Myste—"

"Lies!" interrupted Mr. Broadmoor, "It's all lies! One of the interns of Magical Artifacts found the chest from the tomb first!"

"Wait a moment, what chest? Whose tomb are you talking about? Where did you find it?"

"Intern Sykes found the chest and he is an intern of Magical Artifacts Office. Clearly, there shouldn't be a even a debate about the ownership of the chest here, should there?"

"Which one of you is Intern Sykes?"

"Me!" A young man squeaked.

"How did this chest—" the Minister begun, "even get into your possessions?"

The young man gulped. "Uh…"

Young intern gazed at the many superiors gathered. Unspeakable Abbott, Office Head Mr. Broadmoor, Minister Fudge… Is that head Auror Madam Bones? He felt dizzy.

"I … Well… There is a ruined castle just outside of a town called Glutenbur, or something like that. And I just…"

"This was not the proper procedure, Mr. Sykes!" shrieked Mr. Broadmoor, "No going to expeditions alone and without informing the Office! We talked about this!"

The young man shrunk at the gaze of many adults, nodding with Broadmoor's every word.

"Continue," said the Minister, "and no more interruptions," looking at Mr. Broadmoor and Mrs. Abbott.

"There were rumours, ahem, rumours that a muggle found ruins of an ancient castle and I went to investigate." Intern Ruben averted his eyes. "I detected a strong magical aurora near the eastern side of it. Inside somewhere like a tomb. Upon closer inspection I found this chest."

"Why did a…" begun Minister Fudge looking at the eerie chest placed near the exit, "... a closet even got your attention in the first place?"

"It is intertwined with intricate charms like I never seen before, Minister Fudge," interrupted Unspeakable Abbott, "Let Unspeakables take this case. No one else can manage it."

"Can you be silent for a moment, Unspeakable Abbott!"

Unspeakable Abbott eyed the Minister. The Minister eyed the Unspeakable Abbott. Ruben Sykes eyed the chest left near the entrance of the Ministry.

"Are you a grave digger, Mr. Sykes?" asked Head Auror Madam Bones, speaking for the first time.

Ruben felt himself freeze under the scrutiny of many individuals, his superiors.

"I'm so surprised this is coming from you," retorted Mrs. Abbott before Ruben could say anything.

"Mrs. Abbott! Do I have to repeat myself?"

Unspeakable Abbott closed her mouth with a click.

Minister Fudge took one look at the many wizards and witches gathered, many respectable wizards and witches around him, and turned his head to look at the sweating intern.

"The chest was charmed with anti-levitation and anti-apparition charms so... I hired a few muggles to excavate it. They were obliviated, of course. That's all I did," Ruben mumbled. I did nothing wrong.

Head Auror Madam Bones appeared particularly baffled. "Wait, who obliviated whom?"

Intern Ruben Sykes' eyes widened.

"You, Mr. Sykes, are not authorized to obliviate! Memory Charms are extremely dangerous. Why do you think we have professional Obliviators for?"

"Uh…" He gazed at the Unspeakable Abbott. Her eyes told if he ousted her too, trouble would find him.

"Come with me, Mr. Sykes. Let's have a little chat about safe magic using—If you are done questioning him Minister."

"He's all yours Madam Bones."

After Madam Bones and Intern Sykes left, Minister peered at the large chest, which went mostly unnoticed during the debate.

"Let's have a look at this closet, shall we?"


A man was walking on the path next to the lake.

Grey clouds were suspended on the pale sky. Dark woods stretched endlessly beyond the lake, seemingly evergreen and untamed.

The man's blue eyes gazed at the serene water, waiting. As if something was going to disrupt the unmoving surface and rise from the unknown depths.

Birds shrieked at the air above, branches swayed slowly on the treetops.

A slight breeze touched his cheek.

Nothing rose from the lake.

The man gave a long held breath.

As he turned his head towards the road, he was met with a blue blur of a large vehicle, tires screeching and one voice shouting from the driver seat, "Look out for the road, you cranky old man!"

But soon the truck disappeared with the old man following it with his eyes.

"Old?" The old man chuckled. "Yes. Very old. You can say that," he murmured to himself.

The man continued his walk.

As he reached his destination, a quaint coffee shop just outside of Glastonbury, a smile touched his lips.

The door ringed as he pushed it. The familiar smell of baked goods flooded him.

"Good morning Merlin," said the smiling woman by the counter, "Today, still the same order?"

The young woman appeared to prepare the coffee machine next to the sink. Colorful mugs donned the side, with fresh muffins sat deliciously near his nose.

"Good morning to you too, Olwen," greeted Merlin. "You know me so well. Yes, one Cinnamon Dolce Latte please."

"Your order is like of a teenager's, Merlin but you appear older than my grandfather. Some would question your sanity if you think this amount sugar is healthy even for the young," said the woman.

"Young?" asked the old man, "You please me, young Olwen. Nobody said I was young for years."

"It wasn't a compliment for you but..." laughed the young woman, "You are a strange old man, Merlin."

"Strange? Yes. That's one of the words people also use to describe me."

"What other words people use to describe you?" asked Olwen, "You are surely gathered many acquaintances over the years. Everyone knows about you in this little town."

"Well…" started Merlin, "One young man, total prat really... I mean if you looked at the definition of a prat in the dictionary, his name would appear at the top!"

The young woman giggled.

"He used to call me all kinds of names to insult me. Total bully, really!"

"What kind of names?" said the young woman, leaning forward from the counter.

"Well… Let me think… Useless. Idiot. Cabbage Head. Buffoon. Your pick."

"He was certainly creative with his insults, wasn't he?"

"Yes. He even called me a petticoat!" Both the young woman and the old man got into a fit of laughter.

"What is even a petticoat?" asked the young woman between her hiccups.

"Exactly!"

The old man's eyes crinkled as if remembering something.

"But, I have to say it was as if I was demanding for it really, insulting him on the moment when we met."

"Oh?" Olwen raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yes. But I was much creative, you know."

"Hmm."

They were interrupted by the coffee machine buzzing. Hot coffee poured itself to a large mug.

"Here's your order. One steaming Cinnamon Dolce Latte for my customer," said the young women, handing him the coffee.

"Thanks, Olwen."

"Were you close with him?" asked Olwen.

Merlin breathed in the thick aroma of sugar. He felt bold, armed with the extra-sweetened beverage.

Should I ? he thought. Or should I not?

"Oh yes. He was my best friend," begun Merlin. "Before he passed away, anyway." The old man's eyes watered, turned his head towards the door, pulling down his large beanie.

But Olwen realized at once. "Oh my, I'm so sorry!"

"No matter, Olwen," said the old man, wiping his eyes with a crumpled napkin, "It was a long time ago."

"Still! What kind of a bartender if I let my favorite customer grieve alone?"

"Favorite customer?" winked Merlin.

"Shut up, Merlin."

"If my silly words pleases anyone, I'm one happy man, am I not?" The old man smiled.

The young woman huffed, turned his back to the coffee machine.

"It's your luck that you are this early everyday. Don't think I would let you act like this if there was more customers around," retorted the bartender, starting to wipe the counter fiercely but Merlin could tell she was smiling.

"Ask me if you need anything, alright?"

"Yes, of course, Olwen"

The old man picked himself a small table by the window in the still vacant coffee shop. Placing his unwieldy bag from his side to the top of the table, he pulled a newspaper to read.

The old man closed his eyes, as if trying to make a choice.

If someone catches me reading this... Screw me, he thought.

He opened his eyes. Merlin looked at the fresh copy of Daily Prophet he was holding in his hands.

"Ministry of Magic's 'Massive' Secret Out: Find out How much Ministry Went From Their Way to Just Conceal An Ancient Closet (And Yes It Includes Muggles)" the headline read.

Probably nothing to worry about, he thought as he sipped his scalding sweetened coffee.

He was so wrong.

So wrong.