Argus Filch: Something More

1: Bicker at First Sight

Argus Filch did not have much of a break from the halls of Hogwarts where students dirtied the floor and where the most mischievous would form spells complex enough to clean a spot and then make it more of a mess than it was before. However, the Headmaster had felt maybe a twinge of sympathy towards the younger man and allowed him a few weeks off before informing him of the elves whom would be cleaning all the usual business Argus would take care of. For now, he felt almost satisfied with his work, a thing he seldom felt especially when regarding he was the school's one and only caretaker. He carried the broom over to the nearest closet, not one to make more work for himself than necessary, and left it leaning against the wall at a peculiar angle. He was walking out in an almost cheerful manner, but Argus Filch was not much for cheerful. As a matter of fact, he was not much for anything, that was how he had always been and how he would always be. It was life, he dealt with it and succeeded in the rare times he did, without magic, because he was a Squib in a school for the magical, which he was anything but.

The sun was high in the sky, shining down at him from all angles. He squinted up at the startling brightness, not bothering to shield his eyes with a hand. It was a dazzling sight that dug deep into his corneas. Each time he blinked, the light was present nevertheless. He looked away from the sun, his attention diverted to the few rocks he would have to step over every so often. There had been the one time the Headmaster thought it be wise to have Argus Filch clean the grounds of rocks and sticks, the nature tripping hazards of the world. It was not going to happen, he had told the Head. He disliked greatly the hazards in the first place and having to be the one person whom picked up them would have him leaving the school as soon as a new caretaker was hired. Rather ironically, the few rocks he did pick up were tossed around by the students. Mischievous badgers, he had called them. Whoever had christened Hufflepuffs to be sweet and caring had clearly not met the bunch he had, though they were not quite as irritating as the bright sun and its rays that did nothing to improve his eyesight.

He passed the uninhabited hut that not a soul cared for. He eyed it with a rather look of dislike for the state it was in, for with its shabby wooden walls that would fall in anytime now and the door that would never close properly, it resembled a house of a hermit, not the future home of a boy whom had a fascination with dragons and creatures others would find dangerous. Filch could see why students had taken up to throwing rocks at the windows of the hut for the whole thing was a messed overgrown weeds and wood that was in worst states than himself. To an outsider, the building may have spoken of adventure. To a person like Filch, it spoke of nothing but a wasted opportunity.

The gates surrounding the school opened immediately as he approached them with a weary eye. He had developed a rather strong dislike for magic over the years being he was the only one without it in a school of people whom did have magic and never failed to boast about it whether they knew the caretaker could still know what was happening. He passed through the gates, knowing he would have to return again eventually. That thought did nothing to improve his mood. The gates closed behind him silently.

He had to wonder why the Headmaster had not at the very least lent him a broomstick to make the journey quicker. The nearby village of Hogsmeade was not as big as the grounds, but it a much longer journey on foot. Walking was a common thug for a man like him. His feet had long since become used to the sometimes rocky ground that was present in the village. Still, a broomstick would have been useful, Squib or not.

His rather short legs made their way past the shops and pubs, eyes on the road before him where these buildings were present still. A sight before him caught his attention where near ahead stood a pub with what appeared to be a hog's head above the doorway. The sight managed to be both gruesome and attractive, with the whole image of the severed head of the boar. Filch hated the place as it would often be crowded with mischievous students chattering about pranks and other useless junk that only fulfilled to make his job worse enough than it was.