QLFC Finals Round 3

Position and Team: Beater 2 for Pride of Portree

Character and Situation: Argus Filch in retirement

Prompts Chosen:

3. (word) ache

13. (word) omen

14. (quote) "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There's no point being a damn fool about it.' - W.C. Fields

The Caretaker's Smile

"Come on, Scorpi! Keep up!" Rose Weasley ran full-tilt through the fields behind Malfoy Manor.

"You know that I despise that nickname!" The blond boy followed slowly behind her with a weary groan as Rose turned and stuck her tongue out at him. Her reddish, bushy hair caught the light of the sun and turned a fiery bronze. Scorpius inhaled sharply as he looked at her, but he quickly set his jaw and crossed his arms in an attempt to hide the fact that he was head-over-heels for her. "We're not supposed to be out here!"

Rose arched her eyebrow at him as though to say you're not fooling anybody.

"I just want to see what's there," she said, stepping backwards slowly with an evil grin. "After all, you didn't want to ask Mummy or Daddy."

"I don't like it when you tease me, either!" he said with a sniff, his pale cheeks growing warm with indignance.

"Aw, come on, Scorpius, I was just playing with you," Rose replied, her eyes growing large and doe-like as she closed the distance between them. She pulled her arms around his slight frame.

He pressed his forehead against hers and sighed.

"You know, you can be a right pain in the arse, Rose Weasley," he said softly as he begrudgingly wrapped his arms around her as well, and she snorted with laughter.

"Come on, then!" Rose cried out in delight as she pulled free from his embrace and grabbed his hand, pulling him along.

"I just hope my father never hears about any of this," Scorpius grumbled as they crested the slight rise and looked down at the open pasture below.

"What's he doing down there?" Rose said as she peered through the tall strands of grass, more to herself than to Scorpius, who was bent over at the waist and trying to catch his breath.

"Who are you talking about?" Scorpius gasped.

"I mean him. You know, the bloke who used to work at Hogwarts," Rose replied matter-of-factly. "Look at the poor sod, digging at the hard ground like a muggle! He caused a lot of misery for Dad and Mum, and my uncles too! It's high time he get what's coming to him!"

"Rose! No!" Scorpius said breathlessly, but he was too late. Rose had run ahead. She snuck behind the bushes up towards the shack and the stooped form of the gnarled old man.

Argus Filch was cursing the horrible pain in his back, along with the rising ache in his left calf from having spent all morning digging in his yard. It wasn't what he'd been planning on doing, but he was rather used to life repeatedly kicking him when he was down, so why would this morning be any different? A famous Muggle saying by W.C. Fields came to mind.

"If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There's no point being a damn fool about it," he growled, tossing the last scoop of earth on the pile with a grunt.

Truth be told, though, Filch loathed the idea of giving up after having come so far already.

He looked at the small, still form wrapped in a navy blanket that lay next to the hole he'd been digging for the better half of the morning and heaved a heavy sigh that was almost a sob.

Mrs. Norris had been ill for a while, but with the herbal potions he'd been able to procure from Diagon Alley, she'd lived a good five years longer than the vet had given her. She'd been sick for most of the night, but right around dawn, she seemed to fall into a blessedly peaceful sleep, and, when he had finally passed out from fatigue, she'd been breathing evenly.

He should have known it was too good to be true.

When he woke that morning, her body had been so, so cold. Even thinking about it made him tear up. Filch pulled a dirty spotted handkerchief from his overalls and made a honking noise before sniffing loudly and shoving it back in his pocket.

"It's an ill omen, it is," he muttered to himself. "Frost before August closes is a sign of rough times ahead."

Argus Filch had heard so many stories about Hogwarts that he'd been nearly bursting at the seams for the day he'd receive his very own letter. The letter, of course, never came.

The first time he'd seen the bright lights of Hogwarts had been from the back entrance of the castle. That first day, the oppressive weight of his Squib status had weighed heavily upon him. He'd been written out of the family will, so there was no inheritance. There were only his meager savings, which had been boosted a sizable amount by the Ministry during Umbridge's reign. Though Filch didn't care for the pink toad personally, he knew that the only reason he'd been able to retire was due to that unexpected raise… and the kindness of Draco Malfoy.

While Filch hadn't liked Draco any more than any other snot-nosed kid with a wand, he had saved Draco's life. During the Battle of Hogwarts, he'd pushed a statue onto a massive Acromantula that had cornered the blond Slytherin boy. Still, he hadn't expected anything in return.

It was with great surprise that he'd accepted the invitation to Malfoy Manor on his eightieth birthday, using one of the Floo connections from Hogwarts to travel. The trip made him queasy, but he managed, and when he finally saw the little abandoned sheep paddy with its homely shack, he knew that he would agree to almost anything if the younger Lord Malfoy promised it to him. His days were quiet, which was just how he liked it.

Now, though…

Great tears rolled down his cheeks. He moved to the side of the grave and pulled his crooked hat to his chest, bowing his head with reverence.

"My dear, Mrs Norris; you were a fine mouser and my constant companion for all of these lonely years. Your life, while longer than the average cat, was far too short, and you remain my truest, closest friend, even in death." His voice wavered as he delivered his eulogy. It was only as he knelt down and his fingers pressed lightly against her back, as though petting her one last time, that his voice began to crack and waver with grief. "I... lo... love you, dear girl. Y... you rest now."

A noise like a bird's cry came from a nearby bush and Argus Filch jerked up, staring suspiciously around, but there was only silence. In the end, he simply stood with great effort and hobbled over to where he'd set down his shovel.

With his back turned, he didn't notice the two brown-robed teenagers disappearing into the tall grasses that stood at the edge of the field.

"Hi Mum! You sure look good today!" Rose said brightly, flashing her perfectly straight teeth in a wide smile.

"Yes, Rose? What is it that you want this time?" Hermione Weasley looked over the top of the massive tome that she was reading at the dining table, her eyes narrowing.

"Jeez, Mum, why do you always think I'm up to something?" Rose put her hands on her hips and pouted, but it was obvious she'd been caught.

"You're my daughter," Hermione said, smirking slightly as she slipped a bookmark inside to mark the page and set the book down on the table, "besides, I wouldn't be much of a mother if I pretended that you didn't have the absolute worst excuse for a poker face that I've ever seen."

"Awwww, is it that bad?" Rose whined.

"Rose, you're whining," Hermione said sternly, "and yes, it's that bad. Now, then, how about we start over and you try a little something called honesty?"

"Okay, then," Rose replied, looking chastened, "Right. Mum? Have you found homes for all the kittens yet?"

Hermione blinked.

"We still have three. Why do you ask?" she asked.

Crookshanks had found a half-kneazle lady friend that Hugo had named Aphrodite, and nature had taken its course, specifically right in the middle of a pile of forgotten laundry that Ron had shoved in a corner. Hermione had been attempting to separate the dark clothes from the light clothes while grumbling curse words under her breath when she'd pulled a tiny, sightless orange-and-white kitten that couldn't have been more than a few days old out with a pair of underpants. Their plaintive squeaks and Aphrodite's irritated growls had sent Hermione running up the stairs calling for the rest of her family to come and see. Once the kittens had begun to wean, they'd set out to find loving homes for each of the babies, as Ron had put his foot down about "blasted animals running underfoot" after several of the kittens had somehow figured out how to get to his broom and sharpen their tiny little claws on it with disastrous effects.

"Well, I know someone who could use a new kitten," Rose said, looking at her shoes. "You see, his cat just died of old age, and… I think he could use a friend."

Hermione was silent. When Rose looked up reluctantly, she wasn't sure what sort of expression would be on her mother's face, but she was certainly not expecting tears.

"Oh, sweetheart!" Hermione said, standing up and rushing over at a frightening pace, throwing her arms around her daughter. "That is so sweet of you! So, who is this man? Is he someone we know? A neighbor, perhaps?"

"Sort of…" Rose said, trailing off hesitantly. She was not sure what her mother would think of her having run wild all over Malfoy Manor and discovered Argus Filch's hovel by mistake. She was also not certain what her mother would think of her and Scorpius spying on the old man when she'd originally planned on pranking him.

Rose's expression must have looked as conflicted as she felt because Hermione took a step back and put her hands on her hips.

"Rose Elizabeth Weasley!" Hermione said sharply, "You had better tell me everything right now, young lady, or so help me!"

Rose stood up straight and looked up at her mother with something vaguely resembling her father's panicked expression when he'd been caught sneaking cookies before dinner.

"It's… just…" she mumbled.

"Speak up, Rose," Hermione said sternly. "Take a moment to compose yourself and speak clearly, please."

Rose took a deep breath and let it out, looking up with her eyes wide.

"Well, so I was with Scorpius, and we were exploring and-"

"Rose!" Hermione arched one eyebrow in disbelief.

"Ok, fine! I was running around like a drunken hippogriff crashing into the underbrush with absolutely no thought to where I was going or what trouble I might stumble into!"

"There, now, was that so hard?" Hermione smiled warmly as Rose shrugged. "Continue on, then."

"Well, we found out that that old caretaker bloke, you know…" Rose trailed off, trying to remember his name. Falch? Folch?

"Filch?" Hermione gasped, her eyebrows flying to her hairline as her hands flew over her mouth. "Is he still alive, then?"

"Well, unless I happened to see a rather corporeal ghost digging a grave to bury his cat…" Rose shrugged, growing annoyed at being badgered by her mother.

"Oh my goodness! Poor Mrs Norris!" Hermione's eyes were filling with tears again as Rose discreetly rolled her eyes. Her mum sure loved to run the gamut of emotions, but Rose secretly thought that she was a bit of a drama queen. "So, then, he wants a new kitten?"

"Well, he didn't exactly say the words, but…"

Hermione put her arm around her daughter with a kind expression in her brown eyes.

"I know that you think you're doing a good thing, but sometimes, others do not appreciate thoughtfulness being thrust upon them," Hermione said with a small smile. "I learned that lesson the hard way, you know."

"Yeah, Mum, I know all about the knitting spree," Rose sighed, "but Mr Filch isn't a House Elf. I know you didn't really like him all that much and he was a regular thorn in your sides at school—"

"As he should have been!" Hermione huffed. "As a parent, I would be horrified if you and your brother got up to half the mischief that my friends and I got ourselves mixed up in back in the day!"

"Dad and Uncle George don't seem to share your opinion, though," Rose said, her voice taking on a know-it-all tone.

"Well, that's just because they're far too busy reminiscing to think about the possible consequences that could have come to pass!" Hermione fumed and took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. "In any case, I think it's a fine idea to bring a kitten to poor Mr Filch, but you shouldn't be disappointed if he rejects your gift. Being a Squib, he's used to being looked down upon and so he might take your kindness the wrong way."

Rose said nothing, and nodded. She wasn't exactly sure what her mother meant by that, but she resolved not to let it hurt too much if her plan backfired.

After all, there was that prank kit Uncle George had given her secretly on her fifteenth birthday.

"What's wrong with your face?" Scorpius asked as Rose appeared through the Floo with her teeth gritted in pain.

"I have just learnt the hard way that the idea of putting a kitten in my shirt for transport was a lot cuter in theory than in practice," Rose said uncomfortably, unzipping her windbreaker and pulling out the little orange striped demon, who flexed her claws back and forth, kneading the air. The kitten had jagged yellowish markings around her big, blue eyes and a funny spot of white on one cheek as though a bit of cream had dripped there. It gave her the appearance of being perpetually surprised. Rose had figured that the cuter the kitten was, the less likely Filch would simply reject it outright. She hadn't forgotten to bring a couple of joke items in her pockets for Plan B.

Rose looked down at the little claw marks on her chest and shoulders with distress as Scorpius summoned some Dittany from the hall closet with a long-suffering sigh.

"Come on, then, she's not going anywhere," he said, after conjuring up a ball of yarn for the kitten to chase. "They're going to get infected if I don't take care of them now."

"Fine," Rose pouted, refusing to meet his eyes.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Rose," he said, his face growing slightly pink as he rubbed the salve into her skin.

"Naturally," Rose replied huffily, wincing as she heard a slightly higher version of her mother's voice coming from her lips.

The days seemed to pass with a dull, somber resignation that Argus Filch had never fully experienced before. Even when he had to put up with stupid students and their shenanigans, he could still count on Mrs Norris to warm his lap and a nice nightcap to warm his toes at the end of a long day.

Without Hogwarts, though, and without Mrs Norris, Filch found himself wondering why he should even get out of bed. His little shack always seemed cold, now, even though the Malfoy house elves kept the fire stoked as the weather grew more dismal and wintery. There was no reason to fix proper meals, not without Mrs Norris to fuss over, with her tuna just so and her special separated dish filled with different meats so that she wouldn't get bored. There was a slight leak in one corner of the shack, but he couldn't bring himself to fix it or ask the elves to help clean up. The floor was strewn with dirty clothing that he couldn't bother to put in the hamper, and he knew that he smelled rather terrible from having forgone a proper bath in over a week.

It was with great surprise and grumbling that Filch dragged himself out of bed when he heard a knock at his door.

"I'm comin'! I'm comin'!" he growled. He hated his voice, now, because there was no one to look up with adoring eyes as he spoke.

He opened the door and practically snarled when there appeared to be no one outside.

"Damn kids!" he shouted, shaking his fist, though there was no one in sight. "Get off my damn lawn!"

"Mewrrrrrrr?"

At first, Filch thought that he was hearing things. After all, Mrs Norris was... he couldn't even think the words. But as he looked down and saw the little orange ball of fluff chirping up at him, something filled his chest and he simply gaped silently at the kitten.

"Who're you, then?" he said gently, after a long pause.

"Mew!" The kitten was insistent as it batted at his shoelace and Filch's expression softened.

"It's cold out here, you little menace," he grumbled, though his voice held no malice. "Well, then, you'd better come inside."

He scooped up the kitten in his arms and turned, bringing her inside.

"Now, then, let's see about your name, little one—" His voice cut off as the door shut firmly behind him.

Rose and Scorpius peered out over the top of the hedges. Rose was beaming from ear to ear.

"Oh, Scorpi!" she gushed. "It worked!"

Before Scorpius could reply, she'd thrown her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips.

Inside, Argus Filch had no idea that teenagers were snogging in his bushes, but he scarcely would have cared. As he cuddled the kitten in one arm and fixed her tuna with the other, a smile rose on his wrinkled, ugly face, and in that moment, he was well and truly happy.