Hogwarts' White Lord

"But what's inside? Shouldn't we at least check?"

Someone in the crowd finally voiced what many were secretly thinking. The group, hesitant to approach the sarcophagus because of its strange aura, suddenly found their curiosity piqued.

For a moment, silence hung over the scene.

Gradually, their curiosity about the mysterious sarcophagus began to outweigh the fear that had initially gripped them.

"Should we… open it and have a look?"

The captain and the wealthy sea-fishing patron exchanged glances, a spark of anticipation evident in both their eyes.

Opening a chest, drawing cards, scratching lottery tickets—these were irresistible impulses that ignited human desire.

What could be inside the sarcophagus?

Could it be some priceless treasure?

As the thought took hold, neither the onlookers nor the involved parties could remain indifferent.

"Where are the tools?"

"The lid of this sarcophagus looks heavy—someone, come and help."

"Careful now, yes, just like that…"

With several people working together, the materials encrusted on the sarcophagus were cleaned off, and the heavy lid was gradually pushed aside.

"""Wow!"""

As soon as the lid shifted, a dazzling golden light burst forth from the sarcophagus, momentarily blinding everyone.

Peering closer, they saw the interior of the sarcophagus filled with gold coins, each as large as the base of a bowl.

"""Gold!"""

"It's gold coins!!"

The glimmering gold coins emitted a mesmerizing light, and each bore the depiction of a skull along with the design of a pirate flag from the 17th or 18th century.

"This is pirate gold!" someone exclaimed.

Though the origins of the gold coins and the sarcophagus remained a mystery, the captain speculated that only a legendary pirate could have gold coins like these.

And there were so many of them.

Even without considering their value as antiques, the sheer weight in gold alone was staggering.

Gulp!

The passengers, who had never seen such a hoard, stared in amazement.

"There must be nearly a thousand gold coins in there, right?" someone muttered.

This comment, like a stone thrown into a still pond, sent ripples of greed through the group.

The captain and the wealthy patron began to argue fervently over the gold's ownership.

One party claimed that since he had financed the sea-fishing expedition, anything salvaged belonged to him.

The captain, on the other hand, insisted that the treasure was hauled up using his ship, so it was rightfully his.

The passengers remained silent, but a few among them began to hatch their own plans in secret.

So many gold coins—if anyone could get their hands on them, it would amount to an incredible fortune.

The sarcophagus and the skeletal gold coins inside seemed to radiate an almost magical allure, sparking greed in more and more people.

....

"Minister, we have a situation!"

A few days later, within the Ministry of Magic, the door to the Minister's office was abruptly pushed open. A middle-aged man, appearing to be in his fifties, strode in with an air of authority. His thick eyebrows and piercing eyes gave him the look of an old lion.

This was Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the British Auror Office.

In the wizarding world, Aurors served as a powerful enforcement body, combining the roles of both police and military.

As the leader of all Aurors in Britain, Scrimgeour was known for his decisiveness and intolerance for disorder.

"What's wrong, Rufus?" Cornelius Fudge, the recently appointed Minister of Magic, asked with a frown.

"An unknown creature has been sighted at Ramsgate Pier in Kent, England," Scrimgeour reported, placing a dossier on Fudge's desk.

"Numerous local Muggles witnessed the creature, and it's caused quite a commotion."

"Damn it!"

Fudge exclaimed, slamming his fist on the desk.

"Who's behind this mess? I want the wizard responsible locked up!"

Fudge, having just assumed the role of Minister, was eager to maintain a polished image.

But now, such an incident threatened to tarnish his reputation.

It felt like a slap in the face—a public embarrassment.

Fudge couldn't help but wonder if he had unknowingly offended someone since taking office.

Those guys must be jealous of him, Cornelius Fudge thought bitterly, convinced that someone was stirring up trouble on purpose to undermine his position.

"Our Aurors arrived at the scene immediately," Scrimgeour reported, "and used Obliviate on all the local Muggles to modify their memories. In their recollections, the magical phenomena were replaced by more mundane, understandable events."

Such procedures were routine for Aurors.

"Has it been resolved, then?" Fudge asked, clearly relieved.

"For the time being," Scrimgeour replied.

Fudge exhaled quietly, ready to commend Scrimgeour for his efficiency. However, before he could speak, the Auror head added, "But it's not over yet, Minister."

"What do you mean?" Fudge asked, his relief vanishing.

"We captured those strange magical creatures," Scrimgeour explained, "and found they were cursed Muggles."

"Cursed?"

Hearing the word sent a chill through Fudge.

He instinctively picked up the report Scrimgeour had placed on his desk and began reading through it carefully.

The more he read, the more alarmed he became.

According to the Aurors' findings, the so-called strange creatures were decayed skeletons clad in tattered clothing, with remnants of flesh still clinging to their bones.

By daylight, or in the absence of moonlight, they appeared indistinguishable from ordinary people.

But under direct moonlight, their true nature was revealed—they would transform into grotesque, rotting skeletons.

"What's even more troubling," Scrimgeour continued, his voice tense, "is that whether in their skeletal form or their normal state, these Muggles are completely immune to harm."

"Immune?" Fudge echoed, his voice wavering slightly.

"Completely immune, Minister," Scrimgeour emphasized, his scalp tingling as he spoke.

"No matter the method—physical attacks, magical spells, even curses—nothing seems to affect them."

"What are you saying?" Fudge demanded, his growing unease evident.

"..."

"We made several attempts," Scrimgeour continued grimly. "Whether cutting off their hands and feet or burning them with fire, nothing caused any lasting harm to them. Of course, such actions can be carried out, but as soon as the moonlight disappears and the sun rises…"

He paused for effect.

"All the dismembered remains vanish. And, most disturbingly, the damaged corpses restore themselves completely, and the cursed Muggles come back to life."

"Merlin's beard…" Fudge muttered, his face pale.

In all his years in the magical world, he had never encountered such a bizarre and unsettling curse.

Magic of unknown origin had turned a group of Muggles into undead skeletons. How could this have happened?

"According to our investigation, the source of the curse is this."

Scrimgeour placed a skeletal gold coin on the desk.

"We used Legilimency on those skeletal muggles to trace the gold coin back to its origin," he explained.

Scrimgeour then recounted the events on the cruise ship—the discovery of the sarcophagus, the cursed gold coins, and the ensuing chaos.

By the time he finished, Fudge looked overwhelmed.

As a politician, Fudge was adept at scheming and maneuvering through bureaucratic intrigue. But when it came to magic—especially curses of this magnitude—he was completely out of his depth.

"Is it… a curse?" Fudge asked hesitantly, instinctively leaning away from the skeleton coin on his desk.

Seeing his reaction, Scrimgeour quickly reassured him. "Don't worry, Minister. The curse only affects those who take the coin directly from the sarcophagus."

"In other words," Scrimgeour continued, "if someone else hands you the coin, you won't be affected. The consequences fall solely on the person who originally removed it from the sarcophagus."

Fudge exhaled shakily, though his unease didn't entirely dissipate.

"Otherwise," Scrimgeour added darkly, "the power of this gold coin would be too terrifying. Anyone who possesses or uses it would become a walking corpse. It's no exaggeration to call this object a curse plague in the wizarding world."

"Well, I suppose we can work with this new curse? It can be a small blessing in disguise," Scrimgeour admitted with a sigh. "Still, our researchers have been studying this gold coin extensively, and we've yet to deduce an antidote for the curse."

__________

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