Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Chapter 30: With Friends Like These...

The caretaker's mood hadn't improved since their--frankly, embarrassing--shouting match and after he had unlocked his office with an old, grungy looking key, he planted his feet as Remus went in. He looked back out at Filch curiously, but all the man did was stare at him sourly with his arms crossed, face still red. Obviously, he didn't want to trigger the boggart and expose his deepest fear. Not unreasonable, Remus had to admit, as he was not too eager to do so himself. And, considering his obvious humiliation at merely asking for help, Remus doubted he was prone to the sort of emotional vulnerability that would require. Unfortunate, that, as it would have saved both of them a great deal of frustration over the past few days if he had just been able to ask in the first place instead of trailing him like some sort of ill-tempered stalker, unable to put away his dislike of him long enough to ask him for help.

It is what it is, it will be what it will be. At least his search was over, the slowly mounting panic that he would not find anything in time was quenched. He would not be failing Harry. That in itself was like a sigh of relief and he felt it loosen his shoulders, his chest, his forehead. He couldn't bear to have failed another Potter.

Filch's office was just as dingy and oppressive as he remembered as a child; the same thicket of filing cabinets, the same ominous chains hung behind his desk--though now they sparked a twinge of revulsion, rather than fear. Returning to this place as he grew older revealed exactly how much pedagogical chicanery he had simply accepted as necessary fact as a student. The idea of such a punishment being used on a student, someone like Harry or Neville...Oh, we indeed are changing, aren't we? Even just the implied threat of them was enough to set his teeth on edge. Grimly, he turned back to Filch, drawing his wand from his robe, rolling up his sleeves. "Where is it, Argus?" He asked, carefully keeping his voice polite.

Filch grunted and jerked his chin at a corner cabinet, one of the drawers pulled out halfway with a slew of papers strewn beneath it. "In there. Popped out when I opened it, few days ago. Haven't gone near it." He resumed glaring at Remus, as if it were his personal fault--maybe even his devious plan--that such a thing had found its way into his office. Granted, Remus thought, going back roughly 20 years, that wouldn't have been out of the realm of possibility.

"Do you have a box of some sort? A chest?"

Filch made a scornful noise. "I'm not a novelty shop."

"My mistake." he said lightly. " I suppose it isn't fair to assume you should keep track of all those sorts of things. Well, I've done some exploring in my time, I'm sure I could dredge up something...." Pocketing his wand, he started to move toward the door.

Filch seemed to bristle like his cat and swiped a hand through the air to make him stay where he was, snarling as he stomped away, "I know where they are."

Remus laced his hands behind him as he waited, stifling an unseemly chuckle--really, Remus--as he innocently scanning the pages scattered on the ground, presumably dropped in shock at the appearance of the boggart. Filch must have been refiling, for this parchment seemed older than those piled on his cluttered desk, yellowed and stained, bearing the dates--

He blinked. That's....

Stooping, he drew his wand a cautiously sidled up to crouch by the file cabinet, lifting a few pages from the floor, eyes on the cabinet. No movement from the drawer. He backed off, back to the doorway and read;

ttigrew caught with contraband material. Confiscated. Reported. Punishment unadministered.

ALL FILES PERTAINING TO SIRIUS BLACK, JAMES POTTER, REMUS LUPIN, AND PETER PETTIGREW ARE FORTHWITH COMPILED INTO A SINGLE DOCUMENT FOR  FILING SPACE