Chapter 1: Right of Passage
A small boy of eleven years sat silently at the edge of his chair, gripping the seat tightly in his hands. In the chair next to him sat his mother, primly dressed in a dark suit and pillbox hat. Before them was a large desk, empty save for a small crystal vase, and behind the desk sat an older man with a short, well-kempt beard and a balding pate. The man rubbed his chin and cleared his throat.
"Now then. I'd like you to focus your mind on this vase. In your head, try to imagine yourself pushing it over, or seeing it explode, or watching it turn into a rabbit – or anything at all. Imagine something happening to the vase, and use your mind to will that action to take place."
The boy glanced at his mother uncertainly.
The woman nodded at him. "Go ahead, Gussy. Give it a try."
The boy turned his attention back to the vase on the desk. He pressed his lips together and narrowed his brow in concentration. Without knowing it, all three were holding their breath, waiting, anticipating. The boy's knuckles turned white, and he could feel his forehead begin to throb.
The vase continued to sit upon the desk, undisturbed.
A long moment passed before the man behind the desk finally held up his hand in a halting gesture.
"That's enough, Argus. Please relax."
The boy gasped for breath and slumped back in his chair. His mother looked at him with concern and gave the man a worried look.
"What does it mean, Armando?"
"It means nothing, Alyssa. He merely hasn't shown his true potential. It happens – some wizards can't even light a candle without a wand in their hands. There is nothing for you to worry about."
He rose from his chair and indicated for the boy and his mother to do the same. Argus slid down off of his seat and took his mother's hand.
"But what should I do?" Alyssa implored. "What can I do?"
"All you can do for now is to show patience. He will get his letter, I'll make sure of it." They crossed the room, which was filled with books and strange objects and portraits of old men whose eyes followed them. Armando opened the door, then crouched down to face the boy.
"Good day, Argus. I'll see you in September."
He patted the boy on the shoulder and waved them out of the room. Closing the door, he glanced back towards his desk. There sat the vase, motionless and unremarkable. His right eye twitched, imperceptibly; the vase promptly fell over and rolled off the desk. He blinked, and it reappeared on the desk as if nothing had happened. He blinked again, and it disappeared completely.
Later that summer, a letter arrived at 144 Prewitt Square, addressed to one Argus Filch. The boy snatched it up excitedly and ran to find his mother.
"Look, Mum! Look, it's here! My letter!"
Alyssa Filch smiled as her son danced around the kitchen with the envelope in his hands. It was a proud moment for any wizarding parent. She put a hand on his head and gently ruffled his hair.
"Go on, Gus. Open it, then."
Argus sat down at the kitchen table and carefully tore open the flap, making sure to keep the wax seal imprinted with the Hogwarts crest intact. He extracted the letter from inside and flattened it out. He read:
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and WizardryUnder the direction of Headmaster Armando Dippet
Dear Mister Filch,
It is my esteemed privilege to inform you of your acceptance at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of the necessary requirements for first-year students. Term begins on September 2. Please respond by owl with confirmation of your enrolment no later than July 31.
With sincere best wishes,
Albus Dumbledore
Deputy Headmaster
Professor of Transfiguration
Argus stared at the page and smiled. It was actually happening – he was holding the letter in his hands, he could feel the raised outline of the school crest, he was reading his name on the paper. Term begins on September 2. He really was going to become a wizard.
Alyssa looked on over his shoulder. "Let's take a look at what the required materials are this year."
Argus turned now to the second page of the letter, and he and his mother glanced down the list.
"Let's see, plain black work robes… Standard Book of Spells… cauldron, scales… wand…"
"A wand?" Argus gave her a hopeful look.
"Of course. Every wizard needs a proper wand." She kissed him on the head. "I think a trip to Diagon Alley is in order. Why don't we go there tomorrow, Gussy?"
"Yes! Let's go!" Argus leapt out of his chair and bounced around the room, clutching his letter to his heart. Alyssa laughed and knew that her son would be a fine wizard.
"All right, we have all of your spell books, your robes and potions supplies… what's left?" Alyssa glanced at Argus; she thought her son was going to burst from excitement.
"My wand… I'm going to get MY WAND!" He raced off down the street towards Ollivander's.
"Slow down, Argus!" she chuckled and hurried after. He reached the door of the wand shop and pulled it open, and stood awestruck in the doorway. It was a small, narrow building; behind the front counter stood rows of shelves soaring high above his head, filled with long slender boxes.
"Well, come in, boy," said the shop's kindly proprietor and namesake.
Argus felt a gentle nudge against his back; his mother had caught up to him. He stepped up to the counter and suddenly felt very timid.
"And what is it you're looking for today?"
"A wand," Argus said to the knots in the floorboard.
"It seems you've come to the right place then!" Mr. Ollivander said with an aged wink. "What's your name, boy?"
"Filch, sir. Argus Filch."
"Ahh… yes yes, I recall your father's wand – a 12-inch walnut with dragon heartstring core, I do believe."
Argus looked at his mother inquisitively. She nodded and managed a small smile.
"And yours, my dear – 11-inch holly and hippogriff feather, yes? Still performing well, I hope?"
"Of course – no troubles at all."
Mr. Ollivander nodded. "Good, good… now let's get a measure on this boy of yours, shall we?" He pulled out an enormous caliper and stepped out from behind the counter, eyeing Argus carefully and rubbing his chin, trying to decide where best to start. "Nostrils, I think," he muttered, and set to work taking various measurements of the dimensions of Argus' head. Earlobes, it seemed to Argus, must play a key role in determining one's magical fitness; the old wandmaker spent several minutes admiring his.
At long last Mr. Ollivander laid his caliper on the counter and mused over the indechiperable scratchings he had recorded on a piece of parchment. He retreated into the rows of shelving, mumbling indistinctly.
They waited for what seemed to be an inordinately long period of time before Mr. Ollivander reappeared, carrying several small boxes in his arms. He laid these out on the counter and removed the lids.
"Take a look, see if any of these strike your fancy," he said to Argus, who approached the counter and stood up on his toes to get a good view.
In each box lay a single wand, and all of them quite different from each other. Some were longer, others short; the colour of the wood ranged from a dark, earthy brown to an off-white that looked almost like ivory. They were all so exquisite – how was he supposed to choose?
Argus glanced up at Mr Ollivander; the old man seemed to know his mind.
"The wand chooses its wizard, boy. Which one is speaking to you?"
Argus gingerly ran a finger down the line of wands and back, searching for some kind of feeling, a presence, or… did wands have souls?
His hand settled on a wand that was rich brown in colour with a simple but pleasing design.
"Ten inches, chestnut, hair of a unicorn at its core," Mr Olliavnder told him. "Go ahead, give it a wave."
Argus grasped the wand gently in his hand, as if he were holding some strange and delicate creature; he could feel a very faint tingling in his arm as he did so. He waved it back and forth a few times, imagining a shower of sparks leaving a trail of light in the air.
Mr. Ollivander watched the boy with intense curiosity. "Hmm… how fascinating," he muttered to himself. "Well, how does it feel?"
It felt like the best moment of his life.
"Is that the one you want, Argus?" his mother asked with a strained smile.
He nodded at her with a beaming grin. "Yes, it's perfect."
Mr Ollivander took the wand and replaced it delicately in its box, wrapped the box in paper, and placed it in a slender bag. Money was exchanged, and suddenly the wand was his. His very own wand!
They returned home from shopping, and Argus spent the rest of the afternoon daydreaming about all of the spells he would soon be casting. He laid down on his bed and held the wand in his hand. He could feel the faint tingling again. That must be the magic inside of me, waiting to escape, he thought happily.
Before he went to sleep that night, he tucked his wand back into its box, set it on the nightstand next to him, and wished it goodnight.
The end of August was suddenly upon them, and it was time for Argus to board the Hogwarts Express and head off to school. Alyssa and Argus walked into the station, pushing a trolley packed with his belongings.
"All right, Argus, see that pillar there? Just walk straight towards it, you'll pass right through and onto the platform for the Hogwarts Express. Wait a minute," his mother instructed. "All right, once this couple passes. Okay, now go!"
Argus took off at a trot. Straight through the pillar, straight through the pillar, he told himself. His stomach was full of butterflies. It was really happening – he was almost there –
Argus took a deep breath and plunged straight into the pillar.
The pillar, however, did not seem to care for such nonsense, and remained stubbornly and solidly brickish.
Argus fell backwards with a startled cry, landing heavily on his backside. A ticket officer took notice and frowned, taking the boy's arm and pulling him to his feet.
"Now look here," the officer said sternly, "What are you playing at? The platform is not a playground for you to go running about. Where's your parents, lad?"
Argus sniffed and pointed to his mother, who was standing aghast by the trolley. The officer marched Argus over to her and doffed his cap.
"Good day, ma'am. I'm afraid you need to keep better watch over your son, lad's likely to get himself hurt, the way he's going on." The officer glanced at their trolley and furrowed his eyebrows. "Right then, can I see some tickets please?"
Alyssa pursed her lips and fumbled around in her handbag for a moment. She then produced two ticket-sized strips of paper that were completely blank on both sides. Argus watched nervously as the officer inspected the nothing that was printed on them. After a moment, the officer nodded and handed them back to Alyssa.
"Going up to Willoughby, eh? I hear it's nice this time of year."
Alyssa just smiled politely.
"Well," the officer said, adjusting his cap, "Keep an eye on this one, then." He gave them a curt nod and strode off to another part of the platform.
Alyssa sighed. Argus rubbed his sore forehead and looked up at his mother.
"Sorry, Mum… what did I do wrong?"
Alyssa shook her head. "Maybe there were just too many Muggles nearby, Gussy. Let's try it again, together." They both took hold of the trolley handle, and at his mother's say so, they strode forward towards the pillar. Alyssa took his hand at the last minute, and they passed into the pillar. Argus felt like he was pushing his way through a column of sand or thick mud. Finally they were on the other side, and dozens of people were bustling about – not bored-faced Muggles checking wristwatches and reading newspapers, but other witches and wizards, kids his age and proud parents seeing them off on the start of their magical journey.
Argus smiled. This was the beginning of his own adventure, too.
Once his belongings were properly stowed and he said goodbye to his teary-eyed mother ("You will write to me once a week, won't you? Oh, promise me, Gussy!"), Argus boarded the Hogwarts Express and looked for a compartment to sit in.
"First Years in the back!" an older boy shouted, laughing and pushing past Argus and slamming a door shut in his face. Argus frowned and made his way along the length of the train. He came to a compartment that only had one other occupant so far, a girl that looked to be his own age. He poked his head in through the doorway.
"Hello," he said, and the girl turned her gaze from the window to look at him. "Are any of these seats taken?"
She shook her head and smiled, so he entered the compartment and took the seat opposite of her. Not sure what else to do, he sat quietly and looked out the window, watching the steam from the train billow through the trees. He could see the girl casting glances at him in the reflection of the window. He wondered what it was about him that she kept looking at – maybe he had a smudge of his mum's lipstick on his face? Argus briskly rubbed his cheek (just in case) and turned to look at the girl.
"My name's Edwina," she said. She smiled again.
"Oh. I'm Argus," he replied. He didn't know what else to say, but she was looking at him expectantly, so he asked, "Are you excited about going to school?"
What a dumb question, Argus berated himself, but the girl nodded with enthusiasm.
"Yes, very! This is all so new to me, and—"
At that moment, a burly man with a round, childish face burst into their compartment. "Firs' years in th' back!" he complained, his voice oddly high-pitched for a person his size. "Migh' as well tie me to th' roof, woulda been easier climbin' up than squeezin' through all them corridors."
He plopped down on the bench next to Argus, who gaped at the newcomer.
"Y-you're not a first year, are you?" Edwina asked incredulously, her eyes wide.
"What are you!" Argus shouted, with slightly less tact.
"Eh? Ne'er seen a half-giant before, have yeh?" The oversized boy grinned. "Me mum was a giantess, dad's a wizard. Wasn't sure I'd be getting' an acceptance letter at all, on account o' my mixed blood, but here I am, off ta Hogwarts!" He gestured widely with his enormous hands, accidentally smacking Argus in the face. Argus let out a cry of pain and squirmed off the bench, rubbing his already sore forehead. He frowned at the half-giant and took a seat next to Edwina instead.
"Sorry 'bout that," the boy said with a guilty frown. "I'm not used ta such close quarters. Name's Hagrid, by the way." He held out his enormous hand. Edwina laughed as Hagrid shook her entire arm in greeting. "I'm Edwina," she giggled, "and this is Argus." Hagrid offered his hand to Argus next, but Argus shrank back from it, as though being proffered a giant spider. Hagrid dropped his hand back to his side.
"Nice to meet you," Argus said, not wanting to be entirely impolite.
Just then, the train whistle blew, and the compartment lurched forward. The faces on the platform began to blur together, and they were finally on their way to Hogwarts.