Disclaimer: I don't own this. I own the story and the idea, but none of the characters or settings apart from the Clinic, Argus' house, soon-to-be Mrs. Norris (The Magical Menagerie lady, not the cat), Argon, Agyria, Acantha, and Apolle.
He didn't actually hate them. He didn't actually hate many people. He didn't really enjoy torturing little kids. Well he did, but not to see them get hurt. What he did think, however, was that Harry Potter has not, can not, and will not ever bring good to this world. Purely, because he can do magic.
When Argus was 7, he used to watch his older sister do magic. She was in her fifth year already. She'd brought home 11 OWLs, beaming to the roots of her hair, twirling Argus around in joy. Their parents held little Argus, explaining to him how he was going to go to Hogwarts, how he was going to do wonderful, brilliant, incredible magic just like his older sister. She bought him a fake wand, and together, he and his 9 year old brother sat, hour after hour, day after day, twirling their wands, laughing, mesmerised by the sparks that flew out, jumping in shock when the wand turned into a chicken, way before they even knew how complicated it all was. No, to little Argus and his brother, this wonderful magic was as easy as breathing, sleeping. The most wonderful things that could come out of the wand were the pretty sparks.
But one day, he and his brother came home to find his parents crying, weeping uncontrollably; their daughter, beautiful, smart, caring, loving Argyria had disappeared. Argus and his brother were kept away from all of the mess, but they still heard snippets of the recurring conversations, "Yes, the aurors are looking…. No she hasn't been found… her bag was found, yes, yes, nothing unusual…"
She was suddenly found, lying unconscious behind the statue of Samuel the Spontaneous. Argus was right next to her when the healer performed a spell, and she suddenly woke up, crying and shaky. A few hours later, they realised that someone had sent a stray jinx, and she had happened to get hit. She went home for a few weeks, before coming up with some shocking news.
"I don't want to go back. I don't want to have anything else to do with magic, it's too risky. Anything can happen. We're in hiding, driven into hiding by muggles who don't want to believe what's real. I don't think I can be a part of this." At the time, it was unheard of. Magic was such an extraordinary skill to possess, it made one so powerful, invincible.
Nevertheless, within a year, Argyria had given up her wand, and had taken up her place in a muggle school, learning about Maths and Science, about why magic didn't and couldn't exist. Argus' family couldn't believe it; their star daughter, their beautiful girl didn't want to be magic? For a while they missed her, but soon, angry, spiteful thoughts entered their heads: Argyria wasn't a Filch. She was Filth. A pureblood with magic all through her veins, giving up magic? No, it just could not happen. She was disowned.
Argus had his own feelings for her. Magic was like gold. It was something that his family were given; not everyone had it. So why didn't she use her gift? With everyone else, he also soon despised his sister. His brother, Argon, was starting Hogwarts soon, and together, they would both show their parents who exactly was talented; not Argyria. Argus and Argon, the brothers who had the skill of magic.
As things are, life didn't play out as Argus wanted it to. Another shock came by; just as they were all recovering from Argyria's betrayal. Argus' father died. Cheerful old Apolle had died an early death, at the age of 44. His afternoon tea blew up on a Tuesday morning, and the sugar tongs were clamped up his nose. Apolle suffocated.
Argon was devastated; his father was his best friend. They played Quidditch together in the paddock behind the house, watching as the mother sparrow taught the baby sparrow to fly. Argon thought that the least he could do was help his old mother around the house; and so Argus was left alone to bring fame to the family name. A year went by, and Argus' birthday came and went. It was only a month until September the 1st. Argus was always the first one to the window in the morning, waiting to see if any owls had come, but alas, they didn't. On August the 27th, Acantha decided to write to Dumbledore, to see why Argus hadn't gotten his letter to go to Hogwarts. The reply came back within the hour.
"I'm sorry, there must be some mistake. Argus doesn't come under any of our magical records… he must be a squib."
A squib? A pureblood squib? A Filch squib? That was unheard of! Despicable! Argus chose not to go to Muggle School, and stayed at home. When he was 16, he tried looking for a job. He looked, and looked, and looked, but the base fact was, no-one had a job for a squib. Argus was incensed. He was meant to bring fame to the family name! He was supposed to show them his skills, his gift, his talent, his magic. There must be some mistake. At the age of 22, Argus Filch went to Dumbledore, asking him, was it true? Was he a squib? Dumbledore looked at him sadly, and that was all Filch ever needed.
He would never get magic. He would never twirl his wand, making the pretty sparks fly from his wand. It almost made him want to join the muggle world, because knowing about the magical world, being a part of it, but not really belonging was the worst feeling ever. He wasn't a muggle. He couldn't be like Argyria, who was now married to a muggle man by the name of Lachlan, with their two kids Samantha and David. He couldn't forget this brilliant, magical world. Nor could he truly say, "I'm a wizard!" Because honestly, he wasn't.
He would never really get the pleasure of acing every exam, or even failing an exam and feeling bad about it. He would never really get the sense of adventure that came with prowling the castle at night, with the rush of adrenaline that only ever came with breaking rules. He would never make friends; never have a girlfriend… never really enjoy any of the things that actually mattered.
Argus' life became bitter. He worked in a shop in Diagon Alley, then as an assistant at Lue's Magical Clinic for Stray Jinxes and Curses. It was there that Argus finally saw what Argyria had meant all those years ago. Things could really go wrong with magic. Some of these people had gotten seriously hurt. An example was his father, who had died because of magic; leaving his son to care for his mother. Argon was now working as a potion seller, working in conjunction with his mother. These lives had been ruined because of magic.
Argus had also heard of bad magic; dark magic. Just a few days ago, someone had died from the 'Avada Kedavra' curse. Argus had first pitied those who had gotten in the bad way of magic, but soon he was contented. These people were being punished; they'd stolen his magic. He was supposed to be using this magic; he would know what to do with it. He wouldn't blow himself up like these idiots. Idiotic freaks who had stolen his magic. He felt satisfied when a patient explained to Jessie Lue that they'd accidentally swished their wand instead of jabbing it, saying 'b' instead of'd'.
One dreary, rainy day, Argus arrived at the Clinic after taking a bus (he couldn't apparate as he was a squib) to find a screeching woman in the waiting room. He rushed inside, asking her what had happened; apparently kneazles weren't very happy about being outside in the rain. After healing her cuts and bruises, and giving her shock treatment, Jessie sent her out. She left the kneazles at the Clinic. Jessie had no idea what to do with them; she was about to banish them, when the smallest kneazle looked at Argus with big, yellow eyes, and blinked.
Immediately, he fell in love with her.
"Wait!" he cried out, but it was too late. The kneazles vanished. Jessie cringed and said sorry repeatedly, but he could never forget those big, yellow eyes. The next few days, he couldn't think of anything else. Those eyes, pleading worrying, begging. Finally, feeling guilty, Jessie took him to the Magical Menagerie, and told him to choose a cat. Argus slowly looked around, but none of them had yellow eyes; at least, not like the other one. Argus was about to give up, when the assistant brought out a strange animal with a squashed face and yellow eyes.
Argus strode up to her.
"Excuse me, how much for this cat?" asked Filch. The assistant looked at him.
"This isn't a cat sir. It's a cross-breed between a kneazle and a cat. This one's been here for ages, no-one wants him." Argus looked at the animal. It was an outcast; an outcast for not being 'pureblood', just as he was an outcast for not being 'magical'.
"I'll take him." Said Argus and handed over the money. Jessie tried paying Argus back, but he would have none of it. It was his cat, his pet. He would pay for everything.
The next few weeks, he took care of his pet like it was part of him, which was exactly how Argus felt. This cat, this gorgeous feline was a part of him, he just knew it. He quit his job so that he could spend more time with his family, until one day Acantha pointed out that the cat cross kneazle didn't have a name. Argus thought and thought, but he couldn't think of a name for the strange animal.
One morning, the Daily prophet came, and Argus was reading it, when a headline caught his eye.
"Magical Menagerie assistant has quit, as she is getting married to the famous William Norris, famous for his invention of the Quick Quotes Quill."
Accompanying the article was a photo of soon-to-be 'Mrs. Norris' with her fiancé William. She was smiling happily. Argus looked at her and smiled. She was the reason he now had his cat cross kneazle.
"Mum! Argon, I'm naming my cat." They came and asked him what he was naming the cat, Argus looked up and smiled.
"Mrs. Norris."
It was a few years later, when on a windy afternoon, an owl made its way to Argus' house. It was a letter from Dumbledore. Argus had heard that Dumbledore had made headmaster at Hogwarts.
"Dear Argus,
As we may have discussed prior to this letter, you have ungraciously not been gifted with magic, thereby making you a squib. I would like to propose an idea to you, which I am sure you will be in favour of. Please come to my office on Tuesday.
Professor Dumbledore.
P.S- I like Cockroach Clusters.
It was a strange letter. However, Argus Filch made his way to the headmaster's office on Tuesday, leaving Mrs. Norris in the care of Argon. It was the summer of 1971.
"Ah, Argus. Step into my office." Argus stepped into the office of Albus Dumbledore. Albus was smiling; there was a twinkle in his eye.
"As you may or may not know Argus, school at Hogwarts starts on September the 1st. Our old caretaker retired at the end of last year, so I was wondering if you wanted to take up the position of caretaker here. That would mean you live here; clean up after any accidents students may have, supervise different places, and patrol in the night. It will give you an opportunity to be a part of magic Argus; I know you really want that."
A mixture of emotions flooded him. He was genuinely touched that Albus Dumbledore would offer him such a position, keeping in mind how much he wanted to belong to this society. He felt ashamed that the only thing he could do in the magical world was to be a magical caretaker; cleaning up after other students, students who could use magic to clean it all up in a jiffy.
Over everything however, was the sense that he could rule.
He would be n charge now. Not exactly in charge, but he could hand out punishments. He would be in the higher league; amongst all the teachers. He would be in a higher position than all of the students who could do magic, and he couldn't do anything!
"Mrs. Norris! My love, come here. We are going to Hogwarts together… we're going to live there!"
It was a week before school started, and Argus moved to Hogwarts. He had his own office, and a bedroom leading off from their. He had cabinets and desks and his own bathroom! He'd never felt so free, so powerful.
And yet, he still couldn't do magic.
School started, and Argus was suddenly kept busy; a bunch of rowdies had started school by the names of James Potter and Sirius Black. Lupin, their faithful friend and their sidekick, Peter Pettigrew weren't as bad, but he was forever and always cleaning up after them.
Sometimes, he was cleaning himself after them! They almost played a daily prank. He kept his angry and sulky demeanour around them, and put them in detention, slowly filling up a filing cabinet with their names, but secretly, he was hurt; hurt and bewildered that anyone would purposely use magic to do anything like this. He was cleaning up after them, doing them all a favour so that they could be free to learn magic, something he would never be able to do, and all he got in return was misery.
However, he loved one part of his job. The fact that he was living inside and being a part of a magical school. He didn't exactly have exams, but he could prowl around the school as much as he wanted, prowl away, Dumbledore told him, prowl away…
Slowly, he learnt to hate all of the students.
They conspired against him, he could tell.
One day, in James' third year, someone got really peeved at Mrs. Norris for getting them in trouble, and kicked her. He arrived on the spot minutes later, to see a crowd of students around Mrs. Norris.
"Mrs-Mrs Norris? MRS. NORRIS! YOU MURDERER! LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I'LL KILL YOU, I WILL!" he was so upset, so hurt at these kids who'd gone and murdered and innocent cat!
"What're you gonna do? It's not like you can do magic, I've got a wand, you don't!" whispered broke out through the crowd; Filch, a squib? Filch didn't have a wand? He backed away, and bumped into someone. It was Albus Dumbledore.
"Fabens, please go to my office and wait for me. Argus, Mrs. Norris is simply unconscious. Enervate." He said softly, and Mrs. Norris woke up suddenly, looked around, and streaked into Argus' arms.
It was from that moment that he started really hating and despising the students.
It was Halloween, 1981. The brats had graduated a year ago, and Filch was glad if he never saw them again. He heard in the early hours of the morning, that Lily and James Potter had died, and little Harry had miraculously survived.
Argus knew all about Voldemort; it was a little hard not to when he was reigning terror, however he had never thought himself to be a victim. He couldn't do magic. What did Voldemort want with him? So when he had heard that Voldemort was gone, it didn't mean that much to him; it wasn't significant.
Until of course, the brat's kid came.
Harry Potter.
The blasted Potter who had been given the gift of magic. Him and his blasted sidekick Ron Weasley, and then his new friend, the muggle-born, Hermione Granger. Muggle-born! A muggle with magic? And he, a pureblood Filch tracing back centuries wasn't given magic? It was preposterous! It was true; he harboured a deep hatred for the boy.
When Harry was found near Mrs. Norris in Harry's second year, he was… he was… he didn't know what he was. All he knew was he hated Harry bloody Potter with all his heart. How dare he hurt his cat? How dare he bring all of this down on them? So when Dumbledore announced that Mrs. Norris had been petrified, and Harry had nothing to do with it, Argus didn't believe him.
"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"
That year was the hardest for Argus. He hadn't spent more than a day without Mrs. Norris's company since he'd gotten her, and now he didn't have her company anymore. It was perhaps the best moment of his life, when Mrs. Norris was revived with the Mandrake Juice. Oh, he felt like kissing Madam Pomphrey!
Over the years, Harry went through a lot. He didn't really believe half the codswallop that he came up with. But even he couldn't deny it in Harry's seventh year that he really was back.
Oh the terror. He couldn't ever remember being so scared! Dumbledore was gone, thanks to Snape… Snape. He'd thought Snape was good. They'd so many students in trouble over the years. In fact, Snape and Argus had both hated James Potter for a long time, and now, it felt as if Snape had betrayed him.
The whole war interlard was stupid in his opinion. They had magic. Why couldn't they co-operate? Why couldn't they live in peace together? Voldemort was a sadistic mad-man who had nothing better to do with his life. What Potter was fighting for was a worthwhile cause.
It was right at the end of the war. They'd won. Voldemort could go mouldy in his Voldy, and no-one cared. He couldn't really see the difference, until the next morning, when he realised he didn't have to live with the fear anymore. He could live freely again.
Harry Potter came up to him a few weeks after the war, and said he wanted to talk to him.
"What do you want?" asked Argus.
"I want to tell you," said Harry. "That we've all been fighting, that I've been fighting for a better world. A world where purebloods are no different from a muggle-born. A world where people are accepted for who they are, and hopefully without conflicts. A world, where if you know about, but more importantly believe in magic, you belong. You do belong sir, I just wanted to tell you that." And he walked away.
Never had Argus felt so touched. Harry Potter had touched his heart. He'd have never believed t, never admitted it, but it was true. It was definitely a better world. Argus screwed up hi courage, and put aside his pride.
"Potter!" he called. Harry turned around. He hesitated. "Thank you."
Wow! The longest one-shot I've written yet! I'm not sure I like how this came out, it was pretty vague in the end, wasn't written very well. But hey, what can we do? Just do our best and get on with it.
There is no sequel. I'm not going to write one either. This took me the better part of three days to write, and I have my yearlies next week.
So I hope you like it! Leave a review if you want, or jut go on to my page and read another story of mine. If my works are truly horrendous, just skip my profile and browse fan fiction for a story of your choice. :D
Sooo I hope you enjoyed!
rannDUMM