Argus lay with his back on the floor, his hand squeezing tightly on his mother's wand, his face taught with concentration. He willed the wand to do something anything, but to no avail. The wand was useless in his hands, being no more magical than a plain old twig.
He threw the wand on the floor and stomped up the stairs to his dingy, cramped room in the loft. He had once shared a room with his older brother Ronnie, however his parents soon started to show uncanny favouritism for their first son, something they attempted (with little success) to hide from young Argus.
When had turned five he had displayed his talent for magic, much to the delight of his mother and father, however when Argus turned five two years later he showed as much magical ability as a potato. The following year the Filch's youngest son had still failed to provide them with even the slightest hint of magical skill, and the couple were beginning to become worried. Not long afterwards had he been rousted out of his double room with Ronnie and shifted into the loft, as though his lack of magical credibility would rub onto his brother causing him to also become like he was.
Now at the age of nine, all of the Filch family were wholly convinced that Argus was a squib. His Grandmother, who was very pompous and arrogant, could barely stand to look at him when she came to visit; and with the arrival of Ronnie's Hogwarts letter only three days beforehand, Argus was feeling very down indeed. So much so he rarely left his room, descending the stairs only when the rest of the family were out or for meals.
He flopped onto his bed feeling dejected; he closed his eyes and fell slowly to sleep, dreaming of spells, potions and magic.
His mother's screeching voice awoke him from his sleep with a start 'ARGUS! Argus Filch get down here now! Your dinner is ready!' Argus dragged himself from his bed and trudged down to the dining room where his family were sat, his brother was questioning his father about Hogwarts, listening intently so not to miss a single word, eyes lighting up whenever his father mentioned something he found particularly fascinating. He slumped down onto his chair and stared grumpily down at his plate of food.
'Oh Argus wipe that frown of your face boy, you'll get wrinkles before you're 20 if you carry on like that!' His mother fussed at him.
'Sorry' he mumbled in reply trying to make his face look slightly less sulky. His mother paid him little attention after that, he sat in silence eating his pork chops whilst she sat talking animatedly with Ronnie and his father about how proud she was he had gotten into Hogwarts, and the hope that he would follow in her footsteps and be sorted into Slytherin house.
'We won the house cup every single year whilst I was there you know! Every year…oh shhh Oliver we all know Hufflepuff are for the ones who have nowhere else to be sorted, now what you really want is Slytherin Ronnie' Crooned his mother.
When he had finished food Argus took the plate into the kitchen and left to go back upstairs, but before he could escape his mother called him back to the dining room.
'Don't forget tomorrow you've got to be up early, we're going to Diagon Alley to buy Ronnie his new school things' she barked at him.
Great he thought, a whole day of my mother mollycoddling over Ronnie whilst I stand around doing nothing like a useless pile of bones. Nodding quickly he ran from the room, his mother shouting for him to have a wash before bed as he scrambled up the staircase.