Came into work half an hour early. Most of the other muggles use the...bus...to get to the construction site. I just apparated behind the nearest trash bin. Mum and dad still don't know, of course. I told them I was still looking for a job. They wouldn't like it if I told them I was working with muggles.
The other working lads didn't ask too many questions. They were... all right. They introduced themselves right enough. I just remembered them as Muggle 1-- the one with one straight eyebrow across his forehead and looks a bit like Crabbe, Muggle 2-- the one with the wonky nose like it's been squashed, Muggle 3-- the one with the scar down his arm and a large gut and Muggle 4, the kid who looks younger than me and has a missing tooth. It's easier to remember them like that.
They tried to explain the job to me, using words like rigs, pulley, jackhammer and other utter nonsense. They even have grinding things and things that smell like something out of hell. I dunno. It's much easier to put up a building with magic.
Basically, I take a brick, slab on this terrible smelling paste, and put another brick on top of it. Sometimes I have to smash through an old wall with a large mallet. That's it. It's more trouble than it's worth if you ask me. What could've done in fifteen seconds by a wizard has been spread out in eight hours and among five people. And the building isn't even anywhere near finished.
Then they pay me with their muggle paper money that's supposed to be more valuable than galleons. WHAT UTTER BOLLOCKS.
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Woke up this morning with the most intense pain on my lower back. My shoulders are stiff and my hands hurt. How do mu people keep going to work every day?
That bloke you said, the one I met in that pub in Diagon Alley. I didn't give him my real name, so you shouldn't either, all right? It was a one time thing. And don't tell Amycus either.
He was great help though. ...I mean, he explained a lot of stuff. About pulleys and things.
And he was all right in bed.