Errand Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

𝕯enisse was patting the front of her robes out of habit now, her fingers running over their smooth fronts, where her beloved pocket watch should have been. She let out a soft sigh. It was not even an hour after the announcement had gone out, and she was already one heirloom and a particularly nice brass-clipped fountain pen poorer.

"Unbelievable," Denisse hissed under her breath as she tugged the leather satchel that was hanging from her shoulder.

The campsite, which had been a quiet row of pine trees and lakeside cabins this morning, was now a nothing short of a hilarious mess. Somewhere far away in the woods, a second-year was bemoaning a lost belt buckle, and a couple of Ministry supervisors was lazily searching the grass for it with Lumos charms in the middle of broad daylight. A small grin curled at the corner of her mouth, then she remembered her watch was somewhere in there and quickly, scowled.

Of course it's the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that wanted to turn a safety-protected education exhibit into an impromptu scavenger hunt. She shouldn't have left the lock on the cage undone, but honestly, how could she not appreciate the full value of a mess of stray Nifflers? A dozen Soot-black, long-snouted pest-purses with half an hour of unwatchful eye-time, and they're stripping a half-camp's collection of sparkly bits.

Today Denisse arrived at the cabin area wearing the standard-issue kit supplied by the panicky planning committee - a pair of heavy dragon-hide gloves, an oversize canvas sack, and a box of glistening, spell-polished brass knick-knacks designed to lure Nifflers into her clutches. If she were a Niffler, she'd never remain in the open where predatory birds could see her. She'd go directly to the cabins, where less savvy campers keep their trunks unlocked.

Denisse visited Cabin Four first. The screen door was hanging a little loose on its hinges, swaying in the gentle wind. The moment she crossed the threshold she knew she was right: trunks had been emptied, drawer pulls checked – and she stumbled over a chocolate frog foil wrapper lying in the dust.

Denisse held her breath, cupped her ear and listened intently above the window gales.

Clink. Scritch-scratch. Clink.

The sound was coming from beneath the bunk bed in the far corner. Denisse eased to her knees, sinking her centre of gravity to avoid giving the little thief a fright, and drew a polished brass gear out of her kit. She held it up to the sunshine and let its glare flash a high, gleaming reflection onto the floorboards beside the dust ruffle.

Hanging from underneath the blanket was a tiny, damp nose, twitching quickly. Two intelligent, dark eyes tracked the mirror's reflection. Then came the soft, rounded shape of an astonishingly fluffy, black coat.

"Hey there, buddy," she said softly, keeping her tone steady. Denisse nudged the gleaming gear a few inches closer to her. "Look at this. A whole lot shinier than a belt buckle, right?"

The Niffler was already on its feet. It waddled out from its dark hiding spot with surprising speed, its long snout snuffling wildly at the air. Snatching for the gear at blazing speed, it grabbed the brass disc with a ferocity that made Denisse wonder whether it was truly just an adorable little creature in a cute fluffy package and then, before it could shove the item into its stomach pouch–which already looked like it's about to burst, she shifted forward slightly and reached under the creature's waist with her glove and lifted it into her hands.

The thing squeaked, a little furious squeak, and kicked its little hind legs, hard, in the emptiness. A shower of loot spewed out of its belly pouch and splattered onto the floorboards: three Sickles, one silver ring, a metallic hairclip, and, to her great relief, a pocket watch.

"I'll be taking that back, thanks," she chuckled, gently hoisting the Niffler into the heavily stitched canvas carry bag, cinching the strap drawstring so it could have a little bit of breathing room. One down, Merlin only knew how many to go. Denisse grabbed her watch off the ground, gave her empty pockets a double check and ventured back out into the sun-baked mayhem of the campgrounds.