A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for the Hogwarts Eastern Funfair, for the Ferris Wheel challenge. My prompt was:
(word) care
Word Count: 998
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.
Enjoy!
Argus Filch was not a social person.
He didn't like kids. Nor did he like the students at Hogwarts. It didn't matter what House they were in, they were all the same— greedy, noisy kids with no respect for authority. They pranced about the castle like rules were made to be broken. It certainly didn't help that Peeves egged the worst of them on.
What infuriated Filch the most, however, was that those brats kept getting away with it.
He sighed. It was the summer holidays, so he shouldn't be thinking about work. Unfortunately, there wasn't much else to think about in his small suburban neighborhood.
He walked up his front porch, balancing a couple grocery bags in the crook of his elbow as he fumbled for his keys. Cursing himself for wearing a coat with such deep pockets, he shifted the bags to his other arm, praying he wouldn't drop the eggs.
That was when he heard it. A soft mewling coming from the gutter to the left of his house.
Filch hesitated. It was obviously a small animal, probably a kitten. He considered going down to help it, but he wasn't really a touchy-feely sort of man. It was probably just lost, anyway.
Still, the cat sounded so lonely.
Loneliness was a feeling that Filch could understand. Born to magical parents who he knew were disappointed their son hadn't inherited their abilities, Filch had led an isolated childhood. His parents hadn't known many Muggles, and all magical children went to school at age eleven, which made it difficult to hold on to friends. Eventually, he had stopped trying. Even now as an adult, his being a Squib made it impossible to build lasting relationships. If he was honest with himself, this had more to do with his jealousy towards the students and his coworkers than it did with their attitude towards him.
The kitten continued to whimper, and Filch's resolve wavered. Finally, after several minutes of indecision, he put down his groceries and headed towards the distressed animal. Once he reached the gutter, Filch crouched down to look inside. Down a few feet was a small protruding concrete ledge. Sitting on it was was a dirty little kitten with large eyes.
Filch's heart went out to the poor creature, which was a first for him. It must have been swept in by the storm the previous night.
Filch clucked his tongue, disbelieving that a man his age would be rescuing a cat from the sewer— much less that it would be him. He reached his arm down through the hole and cursed under his breath when the kitten shied away from his fingers.
After several more attempts, Filch straightened up, lips pursed. Now that he'd decided to help the cat, there wasn't a force in the world that could stop him. After a few minutes of brainstorming, Filch ran back up his front porch and dug around in his groceries. He pulled out the tuna he had bought and hurried back to the gutter.
He opened the can and scooped some out with his finger. Filch then lowered his arm back down, and coaxed the kitten towards him, hoping that the fish would lure the small creature closer.
It did. The kitten slowly shuffled over to his dangling hand and began licking the tuna off of his fingers with a tiny pink tongue. Purring contentedly, the kitten allowed Filch to lift it out of the gutter.
Clutching the little animal to his chest, Filch hurried inside, eager to clean off the little furball.
The kitten was a girl. He'd taken her to the Muggle vet to get her vaccinated a few days ago, and the doctor had told him then. He'd had the kitten for four days, and since there hadn't been any identification on her, he'd been told that he could take her in. He had yet to name her, however.
He regarded his little companion thoughtfully. She had dark grey fur and large blue eyes. She reminded him, he realized, of a Squib neighbor he had had growing up, who used to bake him biscuits when the other children went off to Hogwarts. She'd had a bit of a temper, causing most most people to steer clear, but she'd always had a soft spot for him. He'd always enjoyed her company; she was like a grandmother to him. She was also the only one who had understood just how much of an outcast he had always felt. Mrs. Norris.
He looked down at the kitten, who was playing with one of his slippers.
It was a big name for such a small cat, but Filch was confident she'd grow into it. Besides, if he was to care for her, it seemed only fitting that she bear the name of his closest friend.
Filch picked up the newly christened Mrs. Norris and stroked her back soothingly. He was surprised by how fond of her he was already.
Maybe he was just happy not to be alone anymore.
But whatever the reason, Filch did love Mrs. Norris, and he planned on taking her to the castle with him. He shuffled over to his desk to compose a letter to the headmaster, informing him of his request. He was confident that permission would be granted; the students were allowed to bring cats, after all.
He watched the owl fly away with a small smile on his face.
Mrs. Norris was Argus Filch's closest companion for twenty-two years. She developed a talent for sniffing out troublemakers, much to her master's delight. She never lost her fondness for tuna, either.
Though Mrs. Norris was no longer with him, Filch remained the caretaker of Hogwarts for many decades, training his new cat to help him do the job. Mrs. Norris' successor was given to him anonymously by a person who "respected Filch's determination and perseverance in the war against mischief."
He thanked George Weasley in person the very next day.