Squib Apprentice
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts
Chapter One: Browly
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling
(Special Thanks to Rabbit and Jinx, who let me borrow a bottle of their
Ella's Enchanted Everkleen!)
"Argus Filch is hungry?"
"No," I said, miserably, keeping my face buried in my pillow. My
words were muffled and barely audible.
The house-elf heard me anyhow. A house-elf's ears are as sharp as
they are large.
"Argus Filch is thirsty, then?" The little creature asked me.
"No," I mumbled, untruthfully. My throat felt as dry as sandpaper.
But I wanted to be alone.
The house-elf wasn't leaving. I heard the soft clunk of a tray
being set down on the floor by my bed.
Then I felt the bed move slightly. The little creature was
suddenly right beside me.
She patted my head gently.
"Poor boy! Browly knows that he is not meaning to be so bad."
At nineteen, I was older than the oldest of the Castle's students.
If I'd been a proper wizard then I'd be considered of age in the
Wizarding world. But Squibs have no real place in our world, and I could
never truly come of age as a wizard. So Browly wasn't wrong when she
called me a boy.
The elf's kindness brought on the tears I'd been holding back. It
was like a dam breaking.
The house-elf smoothed my hair and made comforting sounds while I
wept.
"Browly, I swear that I closed up that bottle of Ella's Enchanted
Everkleen tightly!" I choked. "I really did! And even if I *had* been
careless enough to leave the bottle open, I would NEVER have left it
balanced right on the edge of the shelf!"
The storeroom had been such a dreadful mess. Broken glass
everywhere and Everkleen in a puddle on the floor. And thousands of tiny
bubbles, each containing a tiny warbling charwoman, every last one of
them shrilling a chorus of some unbearable song about a nightingale, had
completely filled the small room, along with the overpowering scent of
primroses.
Looking furious enough to breathe dragon-fire, Apollyon Pringle,
Castle Caretaker and my master for all of a fortnight, had ordered me to
clean up the storeroom.
When I'd finished he'd dragged me down to his office. He was
holding his belt coiled in one hand and tapping it meaningfully against
his other hand.
"That Everkleen's EXPENSIVE stuff, boy!"
My parents had believed in long, earnest lectures. But Mr. Pringle
took a more physical approach to teaching life's hard lessons.
When Mr. Pringle had finished expressing his displeasure over the
spilled Everkleen and the mess in the storeroom he'd gone on to make his
views plain on a number of other things that I'd done wrong. And he'd
let me know, in no uncertain terms, that these mistakes were never to be
repeated.
It seemed that yesterday, I'd misplaced an entire toolbox. He
still hadn't found it. "Tools must ALWAYS be returned to their proper
places!"
The day before yesterday I'd knocked over and chipped a statue of
Winnifred the Woebegone while dusting. "Always pay attention to what
you're doing!"
On the same day, I'd nearly knocked Pringle himself down the
stairs while helping him carry a ladder. "Always watch where you're
going!"
"Circe's Pigs, Filch!" The caretaker had growled. "Isn't it bad
enough that Headmaster Dippet had to send me a Squib for my apprentice?
Why in Merlin's Name did he have to choose one who's careless and clumsy
and completely incompetent into the bargain?"
"Listen, boy," Pringle had continued, grimly, "it may be that only
one of us will survive your apprenticeship! At the moment I'd say the
odds are in your favor. I'm not a well man!"
"I'm sorry, sir..." I'd mumbled.
It had seemed the safest thing to say.
"SORRY!?!" He'd snarled. "Does "sorry" sweep up the glass and mop
up the puddles?"
"N-no, sir..."
"Don't ever be SORRY, Filch! Just learn to work hard and do what I
tell you!! In the likely event that your ineptitude is enough to put me
into an early grave, it's important that Hogwarts Castle is left in GOOD
hands! Now, do something right for a change and get yourself out of my
sight!"
*******
"I'm sure that I put his toolbox back on the shelf exactly where
he told me it should go," I told Browly. "I don't know how it got lost!
And, that statue that fell...? I-I hardly even bumped it!"
Sniffling, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
"Almost knocking him down the stairs with the ladder... well, that
really was my fault," I confessed, sadly.
"I've never carried such a big ladder up so many stairs before. I
didn't mean to be clumsy! I truly don't want to hurt the old man, let
alone put him in his grave! It's just that the ladder was so heavy..."
Rather gingerly, I sat up to accept the cup of pumpkin juice that
the house-elf was offering me. The cool drink soothed my throat.
"Do you think that Mr. Pringle will have me dismissed?" I asked.
My voice quivered.
"Browly cannot say for certain. But Apollyon Pringle is waiting so
very long for an apprentice caretaker. Browly is hoping that sir will
give Argus Filch another chance before he is wanting to send poor boy
away."
"I can't afford to make any more mistakes," I said, miserably. "He
mustn't send me home. My poor parents... they were so proud of me when I
was given this chance. What would they say to me if I was sent away from
the Castle in disgrace? How could I ever face them?"
Browly patted my hand. The elf looked thoughtful. "Sir is wanting
to be a good boy," she said, gently. "Browly is seeing this plainly. It
may be that the clumsiness and accidents is not Argus Filch's fault at
all."
"I don't understand," I said.
"Argus Filch should be resting now. Tis a new day tomorrow. And
maybe Browly can be helping Argus Filch."
*******
"Cursed brats!" Pringle snarled. "Gorging themselves into a stupor
on sweets from home, and then going off to be sick in dark corners! It's
an absolute disgrace! Inconsiderate little wretches!! At the very least,
whoever did this could have tried a little harder to make it all the way
to a toilet! If I had my way, I'd forbid all the families from sending
their brats sweets from home!"
He paused to glower at me.
"What's the matter with you, Filch? You're positively green!"
"I'm sorry, sir, I-I've never cleaned up another p-person's..."
"Well, you'd better get used to it then, hadn't you!"
Thrusting a mop into my hands, Mr. Pringle stalked off down the
corridor.
Swallowing hard and averting my eyes from the reeking pile of
vomit, I leaned against the wall. A suit of armor which was near me
began to shake.
Right before my horrified eyes, the whole thing simply fell to
pieces! It made an incredible noise. And the helmet landed right in the
puddle of sick...
What had made the armor fall? I hadn't even touched it! Aghast, I
waited for Pringle to come storming back to scold me about my
clumsiness. But, apparently, he was out of earshot.
Trying not to breathe too deeply, I picked up the helmet as
carefully as I could and dipped it into my scrub bucket to wash it
clean. Clouds of tiny charwomen rose like miniature valkyries, warbling
sweetly.
I had no idea how to go about putting a suit of armor back
together again...
Deciding to deal with one problem at a time, I mopped up the pile
of vomit, too upset about the broken armor to gag at the stench. Then,
carrying the bucket of dirty water, I went to the nearest broom cupboard
to rinse out my things.
With a sound like whip-crack, Browly appeared in the broom
cupboard the moment I opened the door.
I wanted to ask the house-elf if she knew anything about fixing
suits of armor, but she was scowling fiercely.
"Oh! Bad!" Browly hissed, "Is very bad! Not you, silly Argus
Filch!" She added, when I flinched. "Is HIM!"
The house-elf shook a tiny fist at the empty air behind me.
I didn't have time to ask her who she meant. A small man had
appeared, floating in mid-air in the corridor just outside the broom
cupboard. He was cackling wickedly.
"Peeves!" Browly shouted, stamping her foot. "Why is you getting
poor Argus Filch in so much trouble?"
"Wh-what is that?" I asked, wide-eyed. I'd already met some of the
Castle's ghosts. They were grey and transparent. And they made the air
grow cold around them. This little floating man wasn't like that at all.
"It doesn't seem quite like a proper ghost..." I said.
The creature's nasty little eyes glittered.
"Oh, so I'm an `It' am I? And a `That' too? Fine beginning! What
is THAT, then? Surely, IT doesn't seem quite like a proper wizard! IT's
been here for over two weeks now and IT hasn't done a single spell! Can
IT be a Muggle?"
Cupping his hands around his wide mouth, the little man began to
shout, "Invaaasion!! Attaaaack!! Muggle in the Castle!!"
"Bad Peeves!!" Browly shouted. "Be quiet!!"
"I'm NOT a Muggle!" I yelled, furiously. "I'm a Squib!!"
As it happened, neither Browly or Peeves had been making noise at
that particular moment. My angry shout echoed loudly. The young witches
and wizards, all resplendent in their black Hogwarts robes, were poking
their heads out of doors up and down the corridor.
My face flamed in humiliation. I wanted to crawl into a deep hole
somewhere and stay there til I died.
Peeves howled in glee. He rolled about in mid-air clutching his
sides.
"An ickle Squib, is it? What fun!!"
Hissing, Browly grabbed a dust-cloth from a sack in the broom
cupboard. Dipping it into my bucket filled with vomit-water too
repulsive now to produce any singing bubbles, she flung the soiled,
dripping cloth at Peeves.
SPLAT! She caught the wretched creature in the head.
"You is the one who is hiding Pringle's toolbox!!" Browly cried.
"You is knocking down statues and suits of armor! You is leaving bottles
open and balanced on the edges of shelves! Bad, BAD Peeves!!"
"Bad house-elf!" Peeves retorted, venomously. (Apparently he
didn't like getting hit in the head with disgusting dust cloths very
much.) "Good house-elves are supposed to be quiet! This one is rude and
loud! Maybe it's really a Goblin, eh? Little Goblin wants Pringle's
tools, does she? Well, she can have them!"
Poor Browly squealed in pain as a rain of hammers, screwdrivers
and wrenches began to fall all around her.
"Leave her alone, you foul thing!" I bellowed.
Before I knew what I was doing, I'd picked up the scrub bucket.
Then I flung the filthy water at Peeves.
Shrieking in revulsion, the creature vanished. Most of the foul
water went through the place where he'd been floating. The putrid mess
splashed all over someone who'd come up behind Peeves to see what all
the noise was about.
I stared in horror at Apollyon Pringle.
The caretaker's stunned expression slowly turned livid. He reached
out a gnarled hand, befouled with dirty water, and grabbed me by the
ear.
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Jelsemium and I are working on "Squib Summer" but I had
this little plot idea that wouldn't leave me alone. This story will be a
short one, probably only two chapters long.
Again, my thanks to Rabbit and Jinx, who came up with the wonderful
Ella's Enchanted Everkleen! Everyone should go and read Rabbit and
Jinx's stories!!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter Twelve of "Squib Caretaker!"
Sarince: Thank you!! The Egyptian blessing is real. The first time I
ever heard it used was on the TV series "Babylon Five." I've thought it
was cool ever since.
ThePet: Thank you!! I try hard, but sometimes it's difficult to know if
I'm striking the right balance with all the characters. I really
appreciate the kind words!
Alla: Thank you!!
Saphron: Thank you!! Yes, the Castle itself would resist allowing Snape
to enter certain places.
I'm rather fond of purple myself. I chose purple as Mrytle's favorite
color because it seems to be a favorite of many of the young girls I
know. Myrtle's bathroom is described as being dingy and lit by candles
in holders. Putting in some nice torches for Myrtle is the least that
Filch can do.
Demeter: Thank you!!
Snapefan51: Thank you!! Well, my break didn't last too long...
Saint Fool: Thank you!! Purple really does seem to be a popular color!!
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! Filch's meeting with Petunia and Dudley is
already written, and it was a lot of fun for me! (I don't think Filch,
Petunia and Dudley enjoyed the meeting too much.)
minnowgirl: Thank you!! That's an excellent point about the dangers of
leaving the Door forms around. I hadn't considered that. Hmmm. (Ozma
pauses to think and watches the plot bunnies frolic...)
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!
Darklady sent me an e-mail describing the most absolutely gorgeous
purple bathroom! It would be expensive and time-consuming for Filch to
do, but Myrtle would probably LOVE it. And Harry, Ron and Hermione's
jaws would just drop when they saw it.
aniwda: Thank you!!
Liz: Thank you!! I like the idea about all Libraries being connected!
AET: Thank you!! Callandra can accompany Filch through any Door without
getting sick, but she can't summon the Doors on her own or ask them to
take her to specific places.
Larania: Thank you!! I did have a fragmentary plot idea about Filch
showing Harry the Keep, which may work its way into a story.
Yes, under usual circumstances only red-and-gold can go to the Keep,
only blue-and-copper can go to the Library, only black-and-yellow can go
to the Weaver's Room. And only green-and-silver can go to Salazar's
OTHER chamber, (the one that Filch doesn't know about yet.) But, the
Doors aren't the only paths into the Castle's Secret places.
Filch wouldn't even consider asking a Door to go to the wrong sanctuary.
But, an Heir with sufficient strength of will could order their Door to
go to the Sanctuaries of the other Founders.
Alchemine: Thank you!! I loved your description of Myrtle at a
Hufflepuff party!
Cassandra Cassidy: Thank you!! I'm honored that you want to draw the
Secret Chambers!
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts
Chapter One: Browly
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling
(Special Thanks to Rabbit and Jinx, who let me borrow a bottle of their
Ella's Enchanted Everkleen!)
"Argus Filch is hungry?"
"No," I said, miserably, keeping my face buried in my pillow. My
words were muffled and barely audible.
The house-elf heard me anyhow. A house-elf's ears are as sharp as
they are large.
"Argus Filch is thirsty, then?" The little creature asked me.
"No," I mumbled, untruthfully. My throat felt as dry as sandpaper.
But I wanted to be alone.
The house-elf wasn't leaving. I heard the soft clunk of a tray
being set down on the floor by my bed.
Then I felt the bed move slightly. The little creature was
suddenly right beside me.
She patted my head gently.
"Poor boy! Browly knows that he is not meaning to be so bad."
At nineteen, I was older than the oldest of the Castle's students.
If I'd been a proper wizard then I'd be considered of age in the
Wizarding world. But Squibs have no real place in our world, and I could
never truly come of age as a wizard. So Browly wasn't wrong when she
called me a boy.
The elf's kindness brought on the tears I'd been holding back. It
was like a dam breaking.
The house-elf smoothed my hair and made comforting sounds while I
wept.
"Browly, I swear that I closed up that bottle of Ella's Enchanted
Everkleen tightly!" I choked. "I really did! And even if I *had* been
careless enough to leave the bottle open, I would NEVER have left it
balanced right on the edge of the shelf!"
The storeroom had been such a dreadful mess. Broken glass
everywhere and Everkleen in a puddle on the floor. And thousands of tiny
bubbles, each containing a tiny warbling charwoman, every last one of
them shrilling a chorus of some unbearable song about a nightingale, had
completely filled the small room, along with the overpowering scent of
primroses.
Looking furious enough to breathe dragon-fire, Apollyon Pringle,
Castle Caretaker and my master for all of a fortnight, had ordered me to
clean up the storeroom.
When I'd finished he'd dragged me down to his office. He was
holding his belt coiled in one hand and tapping it meaningfully against
his other hand.
"That Everkleen's EXPENSIVE stuff, boy!"
My parents had believed in long, earnest lectures. But Mr. Pringle
took a more physical approach to teaching life's hard lessons.
When Mr. Pringle had finished expressing his displeasure over the
spilled Everkleen and the mess in the storeroom he'd gone on to make his
views plain on a number of other things that I'd done wrong. And he'd
let me know, in no uncertain terms, that these mistakes were never to be
repeated.
It seemed that yesterday, I'd misplaced an entire toolbox. He
still hadn't found it. "Tools must ALWAYS be returned to their proper
places!"
The day before yesterday I'd knocked over and chipped a statue of
Winnifred the Woebegone while dusting. "Always pay attention to what
you're doing!"
On the same day, I'd nearly knocked Pringle himself down the
stairs while helping him carry a ladder. "Always watch where you're
going!"
"Circe's Pigs, Filch!" The caretaker had growled. "Isn't it bad
enough that Headmaster Dippet had to send me a Squib for my apprentice?
Why in Merlin's Name did he have to choose one who's careless and clumsy
and completely incompetent into the bargain?"
"Listen, boy," Pringle had continued, grimly, "it may be that only
one of us will survive your apprenticeship! At the moment I'd say the
odds are in your favor. I'm not a well man!"
"I'm sorry, sir..." I'd mumbled.
It had seemed the safest thing to say.
"SORRY!?!" He'd snarled. "Does "sorry" sweep up the glass and mop
up the puddles?"
"N-no, sir..."
"Don't ever be SORRY, Filch! Just learn to work hard and do what I
tell you!! In the likely event that your ineptitude is enough to put me
into an early grave, it's important that Hogwarts Castle is left in GOOD
hands! Now, do something right for a change and get yourself out of my
sight!"
*******
"I'm sure that I put his toolbox back on the shelf exactly where
he told me it should go," I told Browly. "I don't know how it got lost!
And, that statue that fell...? I-I hardly even bumped it!"
Sniffling, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
"Almost knocking him down the stairs with the ladder... well, that
really was my fault," I confessed, sadly.
"I've never carried such a big ladder up so many stairs before. I
didn't mean to be clumsy! I truly don't want to hurt the old man, let
alone put him in his grave! It's just that the ladder was so heavy..."
Rather gingerly, I sat up to accept the cup of pumpkin juice that
the house-elf was offering me. The cool drink soothed my throat.
"Do you think that Mr. Pringle will have me dismissed?" I asked.
My voice quivered.
"Browly cannot say for certain. But Apollyon Pringle is waiting so
very long for an apprentice caretaker. Browly is hoping that sir will
give Argus Filch another chance before he is wanting to send poor boy
away."
"I can't afford to make any more mistakes," I said, miserably. "He
mustn't send me home. My poor parents... they were so proud of me when I
was given this chance. What would they say to me if I was sent away from
the Castle in disgrace? How could I ever face them?"
Browly patted my hand. The elf looked thoughtful. "Sir is wanting
to be a good boy," she said, gently. "Browly is seeing this plainly. It
may be that the clumsiness and accidents is not Argus Filch's fault at
all."
"I don't understand," I said.
"Argus Filch should be resting now. Tis a new day tomorrow. And
maybe Browly can be helping Argus Filch."
*******
"Cursed brats!" Pringle snarled. "Gorging themselves into a stupor
on sweets from home, and then going off to be sick in dark corners! It's
an absolute disgrace! Inconsiderate little wretches!! At the very least,
whoever did this could have tried a little harder to make it all the way
to a toilet! If I had my way, I'd forbid all the families from sending
their brats sweets from home!"
He paused to glower at me.
"What's the matter with you, Filch? You're positively green!"
"I'm sorry, sir, I-I've never cleaned up another p-person's..."
"Well, you'd better get used to it then, hadn't you!"
Thrusting a mop into my hands, Mr. Pringle stalked off down the
corridor.
Swallowing hard and averting my eyes from the reeking pile of
vomit, I leaned against the wall. A suit of armor which was near me
began to shake.
Right before my horrified eyes, the whole thing simply fell to
pieces! It made an incredible noise. And the helmet landed right in the
puddle of sick...
What had made the armor fall? I hadn't even touched it! Aghast, I
waited for Pringle to come storming back to scold me about my
clumsiness. But, apparently, he was out of earshot.
Trying not to breathe too deeply, I picked up the helmet as
carefully as I could and dipped it into my scrub bucket to wash it
clean. Clouds of tiny charwomen rose like miniature valkyries, warbling
sweetly.
I had no idea how to go about putting a suit of armor back
together again...
Deciding to deal with one problem at a time, I mopped up the pile
of vomit, too upset about the broken armor to gag at the stench. Then,
carrying the bucket of dirty water, I went to the nearest broom cupboard
to rinse out my things.
With a sound like whip-crack, Browly appeared in the broom
cupboard the moment I opened the door.
I wanted to ask the house-elf if she knew anything about fixing
suits of armor, but she was scowling fiercely.
"Oh! Bad!" Browly hissed, "Is very bad! Not you, silly Argus
Filch!" She added, when I flinched. "Is HIM!"
The house-elf shook a tiny fist at the empty air behind me.
I didn't have time to ask her who she meant. A small man had
appeared, floating in mid-air in the corridor just outside the broom
cupboard. He was cackling wickedly.
"Peeves!" Browly shouted, stamping her foot. "Why is you getting
poor Argus Filch in so much trouble?"
"Wh-what is that?" I asked, wide-eyed. I'd already met some of the
Castle's ghosts. They were grey and transparent. And they made the air
grow cold around them. This little floating man wasn't like that at all.
"It doesn't seem quite like a proper ghost..." I said.
The creature's nasty little eyes glittered.
"Oh, so I'm an `It' am I? And a `That' too? Fine beginning! What
is THAT, then? Surely, IT doesn't seem quite like a proper wizard! IT's
been here for over two weeks now and IT hasn't done a single spell! Can
IT be a Muggle?"
Cupping his hands around his wide mouth, the little man began to
shout, "Invaaasion!! Attaaaack!! Muggle in the Castle!!"
"Bad Peeves!!" Browly shouted. "Be quiet!!"
"I'm NOT a Muggle!" I yelled, furiously. "I'm a Squib!!"
As it happened, neither Browly or Peeves had been making noise at
that particular moment. My angry shout echoed loudly. The young witches
and wizards, all resplendent in their black Hogwarts robes, were poking
their heads out of doors up and down the corridor.
My face flamed in humiliation. I wanted to crawl into a deep hole
somewhere and stay there til I died.
Peeves howled in glee. He rolled about in mid-air clutching his
sides.
"An ickle Squib, is it? What fun!!"
Hissing, Browly grabbed a dust-cloth from a sack in the broom
cupboard. Dipping it into my bucket filled with vomit-water too
repulsive now to produce any singing bubbles, she flung the soiled,
dripping cloth at Peeves.
SPLAT! She caught the wretched creature in the head.
"You is the one who is hiding Pringle's toolbox!!" Browly cried.
"You is knocking down statues and suits of armor! You is leaving bottles
open and balanced on the edges of shelves! Bad, BAD Peeves!!"
"Bad house-elf!" Peeves retorted, venomously. (Apparently he
didn't like getting hit in the head with disgusting dust cloths very
much.) "Good house-elves are supposed to be quiet! This one is rude and
loud! Maybe it's really a Goblin, eh? Little Goblin wants Pringle's
tools, does she? Well, she can have them!"
Poor Browly squealed in pain as a rain of hammers, screwdrivers
and wrenches began to fall all around her.
"Leave her alone, you foul thing!" I bellowed.
Before I knew what I was doing, I'd picked up the scrub bucket.
Then I flung the filthy water at Peeves.
Shrieking in revulsion, the creature vanished. Most of the foul
water went through the place where he'd been floating. The putrid mess
splashed all over someone who'd come up behind Peeves to see what all
the noise was about.
I stared in horror at Apollyon Pringle.
The caretaker's stunned expression slowly turned livid. He reached
out a gnarled hand, befouled with dirty water, and grabbed me by the
ear.
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Jelsemium and I are working on "Squib Summer" but I had
this little plot idea that wouldn't leave me alone. This story will be a
short one, probably only two chapters long.
Again, my thanks to Rabbit and Jinx, who came up with the wonderful
Ella's Enchanted Everkleen! Everyone should go and read Rabbit and
Jinx's stories!!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed Chapter Twelve of "Squib Caretaker!"
Sarince: Thank you!! The Egyptian blessing is real. The first time I
ever heard it used was on the TV series "Babylon Five." I've thought it
was cool ever since.
ThePet: Thank you!! I try hard, but sometimes it's difficult to know if
I'm striking the right balance with all the characters. I really
appreciate the kind words!
Alla: Thank you!!
Saphron: Thank you!! Yes, the Castle itself would resist allowing Snape
to enter certain places.
I'm rather fond of purple myself. I chose purple as Mrytle's favorite
color because it seems to be a favorite of many of the young girls I
know. Myrtle's bathroom is described as being dingy and lit by candles
in holders. Putting in some nice torches for Myrtle is the least that
Filch can do.
Demeter: Thank you!!
Snapefan51: Thank you!! Well, my break didn't last too long...
Saint Fool: Thank you!! Purple really does seem to be a popular color!!
Spark-Chick: Thank you!! Filch's meeting with Petunia and Dudley is
already written, and it was a lot of fun for me! (I don't think Filch,
Petunia and Dudley enjoyed the meeting too much.)
minnowgirl: Thank you!! That's an excellent point about the dangers of
leaving the Door forms around. I hadn't considered that. Hmmm. (Ozma
pauses to think and watches the plot bunnies frolic...)
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!!
Darklady sent me an e-mail describing the most absolutely gorgeous
purple bathroom! It would be expensive and time-consuming for Filch to
do, but Myrtle would probably LOVE it. And Harry, Ron and Hermione's
jaws would just drop when they saw it.
aniwda: Thank you!!
Liz: Thank you!! I like the idea about all Libraries being connected!
AET: Thank you!! Callandra can accompany Filch through any Door without
getting sick, but she can't summon the Doors on her own or ask them to
take her to specific places.
Larania: Thank you!! I did have a fragmentary plot idea about Filch
showing Harry the Keep, which may work its way into a story.
Yes, under usual circumstances only red-and-gold can go to the Keep,
only blue-and-copper can go to the Library, only black-and-yellow can go
to the Weaver's Room. And only green-and-silver can go to Salazar's
OTHER chamber, (the one that Filch doesn't know about yet.) But, the
Doors aren't the only paths into the Castle's Secret places.
Filch wouldn't even consider asking a Door to go to the wrong sanctuary.
But, an Heir with sufficient strength of will could order their Door to
go to the Sanctuaries of the other Founders.
Alchemine: Thank you!! I loved your description of Myrtle at a
Hufflepuff party!
Cassandra Cassidy: Thank you!! I'm honored that you want to draw the
Secret Chambers!