Work Text:
Whoosh!
With a flash of light, three figures appeared from out of thin air, atop of a plateau in The Steppes. The tallest of the three, a brown-haired man with pointy features, let out a wheezing cough and bent over with his hands on his knees, while his companions politely ignored him, surveying their surroundings with vague scepticism.
“Merlin, I hate Portkeys,” the coughing man muttered, straightening up and wiping a string of spittle from his mouth.
“We could have just flown, Terry,” the other man, a stout, black-haired fellow, said mildly. The third member of their strange band, a slender woman with honey-blonde hair, nodded her assent, while Terry let out a scornful tch.
“We could have just flown – please, don’t make me laugh. We have a schedule to keep, Hopkins, and we’re very nearly late as it is. Smith, prepare the egg!”
Smith patted herself down and, when she did not find the requested egg, turned her pockets inside out – no egg was forthcoming.
“Er, I think I might have left it in Peru, Terry. Sorry,” she muttered, turning her gaze downwards.
“You left it in Peru?! Oh, who am I kidding, of course you did – Hopkins, please tell me you packed a spare?”
“Packed?” Hopkins asked blanky. “I don’t know about you, Terry, but I don’t see any luggage here.”
Terry’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for several seconds before he buried his face in his hands, sinking down to the ground.
“What’s the point in having minions when they can’t even pack luggage?” he bemoaned. He huffed in frustration when neither of the minions did anything other than shrug, flopping backwards and letting his head hit the dirt. “Useless, the both of you – I should’ve known better than to recruit from Hufflepuff, of all places.”
“I resent that,” Smith interjected, giving Terry a stern look. “Ernie and Susan have been very successful – they’re Potter’s top Aurors. Your error wasn’t picking Hufflepuffs to work for you – it was picking us to work for you. Don’t use our poor performance as an excuse to be House-ist, Terry.”
“Yeah, House-ism is bad,” Hopkins agreed. “Except against Ravenclaws – they’re all short-sighted swots, who can’t see anything beyond academics. I mean, come on, Terry – you can cook up this masterplan about taming a newborn Chimaera, but you don’t think to tell us when you actually want to hatch the bloody thing. Who in their right mind hears they’re going on a trip to The Steppes and thinks ‘Oh, yes, let me bring our Chimaera egg?’”
“Fuck off, Wayne.”
“Don’t be a grouch,” Smith admonished. “The eggs aren’t going to hatch until you induce them anyway – we’ll go back and get them tomorrow. It’s all been work, work, work for weeks – now we’re here with no work, and there’s pretty mountains all about. Let's go sightseeing!”
“Sally, that is an excellent idea,” Wayne concurred.
“No, wait-” Terry began, only for him to disappear with a crack as Wayne grabbed him by the armpits and Disapparated.
“It’s good we’re doing this for him – he wouldn’t know how to have any fun without us,” Sally said to the air, before she too Disapparated.
It did not occur to either of them until it was too late that neither knew where the other had Apparated to.
Terry, as per usual, wanted to bang his head off of a wall at his minions’ idiocy.