Amelia Potter and the Chamber of Secrets PART 1

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Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students.

'You'd better get out of here, Harry,' said Nick quickly. 'Filch isn't in a good mood. He's got flu and some third-years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five; he's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place ...'

'Right,' said Harry, backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs Norris, but not quickly enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysteri- ous power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to Harry's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

'Filth!' he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarm- ingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Harry's Quidditch robes. 'Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Potter!'

So Harry waved a gloomy goodbye to Nearly Headless Nick, and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor.

Harry had never been inside Filch's office before; it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harry could see that they con- tained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves. A highly pol- ished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.

Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuf- fling around looking for parchment.

'Dung,' he muttered furiously, 'great sizzling dragon bogies ... frog brains ... rat intestines ... I've had enough of it ... make anexample ... where's the form ... yes ...'

He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot.