The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- Round 6
Team: Falmouth Falcons
Author: MaryRoyale
Position: Beater #2
Prompts Used: "Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience." Victoria Holt and perfume.
Genre: Diary Entries
Title: The Secret Diary of Argus Filch
Official Disclaimer: The original characters of this story are the property of the J.K. Rowling. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. It is my contention that this work of fan fiction is fair use under copyright law. No monies were received for receipt of this work.
Pairing: None
Rating: T
Word Count: approx. 1600
A/N: I was joking about different possible diaries that would be interesting and my SO suggested Argus Filch. Once he did I couldn't stop thinking about what on earth Filch might write about in his diary. So here we are about to delve into the innermost thoughts of Mr. Filch.
1 September 1973
Dear Diary,
Today is my first official day as Hogwarts' Caretaker. I know, I know, I was hired at the beginning of the summer, but Apollyon Pringle stayed on all summer to mentor me and it just didn't feel as though I was really the Caretaker until today. Before today everyone would look to Pringle to make sure I had it right.
Mother and Father were worried about my future. They thought that because I'm a squib that I wouldn't be able to find a position. Mother was terrified that I might be forced to live among Muggles. She would lie awake at night worrying about it. Mother was ecstatic to learn that I was to be the next Caretaker of Hogwarts. She says it is a very prestigious position and that it will mean Great Things for my future.
I must admit that I'm excited to begin my work. Headmaster Dumbledore has told me that being Caretaker is a Great Responsibility and he hopes that I treat the position with the gravity it deserves. Hogwarts is considered a wizarding landmark and a wizarding heritage site. Today is a grand day, diary, a grand day.
Your friend,
Argus Filch, Caretaker of Hogwarts
Still 1 September 1973
Dear Diary,
Today was the worst day of my life. It is my job to patrol the castle in the evening after curfew whilst Hagrid keeps an eye on the grounds. Mr. Pringle gave me to understand that the first day of school was generally quiet and I need not worry too much until the professors start testing. He said that the students like to let off steam and that will be the time that they'll get up to mischief. Still, I want to give this position my very best effort. I want the Headmaster to know that I do take this job seriously.
With that very thought in mind I was patrolling down near the Hufflepuff dormitories when I was trapped by some sort of spell. After hours of calling for help a Hufflepuff prefect found me on her way back to her dorm. She said that it was a very simple spell to undo—even a first year would be able to work it out if they kept at it long enough. I didn't tell her I was a squib. It was none of her business anyway. She said that it was a group of third year Gryffindors and pointed out the group giggling in a nearby stairwell.
Well, as you can imagine, Diary, I was furious. I marched right over to the wretches and demanded that they apologize. Two of the little snots got shirty with me and tried to pull rank, but I didn't allow any of that nonsense. The Headmaster himself said that even though I am the Caretaker and a squib I was worthy of just as much respect as a member of faculty. I gave them an ear blistering lecture and assigned them detention.
4 September 1973
Over the next few days those Gryffindors have done nothing but prank me almost constantly. I wrote to Mother. I'm not sure if this Caretaker position is right for me. Mother told me that I shall stay and I shall endure because I'm a Filch and the Filch family has never had a quitter. Then Mother said something very profound. She wrote: "Never regret. If it's good, it's wonderful. If it's bad, it's experience." Apparently those Gryffindors are trying to make sure I'm the most experienced Caretaker in Hogwarts' history.
I hate James Potter and Sirius Black. I hope they rot in hell for an eternity. I begged the Headmaster to let me beat them just a little, but he says that the Board unanimously voted against corporal punishment for students. I bet if the Board were trapped in a room with James Potter and Sirius Black they'd change their minds about corporal punishment in a heartbeat.
Your wounded friend,
Argus Filch
19 November 1975
Dear Diary,
One of the Slytherin fifth years, Severus Snape, almost died tonight. Or last night? It was just after midnight so I'm not certain. He was babbling about werewolves and a great Grim so the Headmaster took him to Madame Pomfrey for a calming draught and to treat his wounds, which consisted of a large goose egg from hitting his head against the stone wall of the castle. Obviously the boy was delirious as there is no way that the Headmaster would allow a werewolf on Hogwarts grounds. The delusional ravings about a Grim almost prove it, but Snape swears up and down that the Potter boy was in the thick of it. I believe it—that boy is a wild hooligan. It wouldn't surprise me at all if they had managed some sort of illusion.
Your friend,
Argus Filch
3 December 1977
Dear Diary,
Today, Diary, is the greatest day of my life. I finally got one over on those wretches Potter and Black and their little cronies. They were over near that statue of the one-eyed witch and they were giggling madly to one another. I suspect some sort of Muggle drug use—I'm not sure what it's called but I think the muggleborns call it kettle or something. Regardless, I confiscated Evidence from the little blighters. It appears to be blank parchment, but I'm not fooled at all. I'm not sure what it is, but knowing those four it's most likely Very Dangerous. Potter and Black tried to appear nonchalant, but the little, fat one with the watery eyes, Pettigrew I think, looked as though he might cry. I tell you, Diary, there are very few things that give me pleasure, but ruining Potter's and Black's little schemes is high upon the list. I shall sleep well tonight—the sleep of the just.
Your triumphant friend,
Argus Filch
13 March 1983
Dear Diary,
I know that in the past I have disparaged Hagrid, but he really isn't all that bad. He may be far too lenient with the demon spawn that roam our halls masquerading as students, but on the whole he's not a bad sort. Anyway, Hagrid came across a creature that wasn't deadly enough for him; she doesn't shoot fire or have poisoned claws so I believe he finds her boring.
This morning I went to his hut with a message from Dumbledore to find him trying to feed the creature some strange concoction. Never, ever eat or drink anything at Hagrid's cottage, Diary. I know you can't, but if you could—don't. Whatever he offers a person will be either inedible or non-potable. Whatever it was this time looked suspiciously thick and lumpy and had a redolent perfume that made my very eyes water.
The creature came over to me like a shot and wound herself through my ankles, purring madly. She has the outward appearance of a cat or a kneazle, but Hagrid isn't so sure that's what she is. She's a beautiful little thing—Hagrid says she's just a baby. She followed me back to my rooms and won't leave. Hagrid says that she might as well stay with me. She loves kippers and cream. I've decided to name her Mrs. Norris. It has a dignified sort of ring to it and I think she shall grow into it.
Your friend,
Argus Filch
4 September 1989
Dear Diary,
Today was the worst day of my life. Two of the most wretched little fiends to grace Hogwarts' halls managed to get Mrs. Norris stuck to the ceiling of the Great Hall. Headmaster Dumbledore denied my request to beat the miscreants despite the fact that they succeeded in terrifying poor Mrs. Norris! She was most upset and refused to eat her kippers and cream.
What is even worse is that I suspect that the beasts managed to nick something from my office, but I can't be certain. One of them flung himself on my feet and began to sob about his permanent record. By the time I had him pried off of me I was fairly breathless and the other one looked suspiciously innocent. Regardless, you may be sure that I will be keeping my eye on Fred and George Weasley.
Your friend,
Argus Filch
1 May 1998
Dear Diary,
We're under attack, Diary. Headmaster Snape has abandoned us and Professor McGonagall has taken his place. I'm to help evacuate the students out of the castle. I hardly know what to think. Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest magical location in wizarding Britain. Mother used to talk about Hogwarts being used as a defensive fortress during times of war. Pregnant witches and small children were sent to Hogwarts during several major magical wars. This is supposed to be a bastion of safety—and we're preparing for Hogwarts to fall.
I'm terrified of what is to come. I'm just a squib—I have no way to defend myself or protect the students against magical attack. Mrs. Norris has not left my side in the last few days; I believe that she knows something important is happening.
The students will be depending on me so I won't be able to show any fear. I don't know what might happen, Diary. This may be my last entry. Regardless of what happens you may rest assured that I will do my duty to Hogwarts and to the Headmistress.
Your friend,
Argus Filch