FILCH
In the unusually humid summer of 1969, young, surly Argus Filch strode through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an ancient and precarious castle teetering on crumbling spells and mismatched repairs. It had been assigned to him, or rather, he had been assigned to it for a twenty-year stint as the magicless caretaker. As he made his rounds, cataloging the loose cobblestones in the steps leading up to the Astronomy Tower, he'd found a pile of fur, right next to some shiny, expensive-looking and incredibly complicated machinery.
He couldn't Summon a dust bin or magically Vanish the mess. Everything had to be done with his own two hard-working hands. But then there was the matter of the cat and her kittens in the middle of the fur. It was likely that during the end of term brouhaha, the animal had gotten left behind by a thoughtless student.
It wasn't the cat's fault. He was sure she hadn't planned to have her litter in the Astronomy Tower, in a pile of fur amongst the shiny contraption that looked like a brood of fur and claws would do it great harm. Argus' life hadn't turned out the way he'd planned either. It was partially because he hadn't had a plan to begin with. Following half-arsed ideas on what to do with his life after flying the maternal coop had gone poorly, at best. After a series of unfortunate, youthful mishaps, he'd cut his heavy losses and found a way to pay off his debts here at the castle, instead of rotting in debtor's prison. He had no magic to erase his mistakes. But the ghosts of his past couldn't hold a candle to the poltergeist that plagued him day in and day out ever since he'd arrived. It had made for a very long and tortuous three weeks. That left only one thousand, thirty-seven weeks to go. He was a man without a wand in a magical world. That alone was a heavy price to pay for existing at all.
He looked down at the tiny bundles of fur and scratched his head.
"What are you going to do with them?"
Argus spun around, expecting a headless apparition holding a rotten head of cabbage. Instead, there was a beautiful lady wearing teal robes and woven leather slippers that matched her auburn hair. Her appearance matched the angelic voice he had just heard. He made to remove his hat out of respect, before he realized that he wasn't wearing one.
"What… I… how…" He couldn't rub two words together, he was so beside himself. She wasn't supposed to be there. The cat and kittens weren't supposed to be there either, but there they all were. He couldn't even explain the geared machinery. The Astronomy Tower was now full of inexplicable things.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I just arrived this morning, and I thought I would explore the castle to find my way around. Is it always this quiet up here?"
"It is until the students come back. Then I can't keep 'em out of here. Lollygagging between classes, and sneakin' up here after dark."
She laughed lightly, and he mentally checked himself. This woman, this beautiful thing standing before him was well out of his league, and he wasn't going to make a fool out of himself in front of her.
"So yer a professor," he said gruffly, trying to maintain some dignity.
"I'm filling in for Arithmancy while Professor Vector is away on maternity leave. And you're the Caretaker," she said. "They told me I'd run into you sooner or later." She waited expectantly, until his sensibility kicked back in.
"Argus Filch," he said, extending his hand in the most formal way he could, before he realized that his messy overalls and dusty work boots were hardly sanitary enough for the lady in front of him.
"Ella Vanderblundt," she said, surprising him when she took his hand. "It's not much of a name."
It sounded like a perfect name to Argus, but then everything this woman said sounded magical.
The mother cat, having been ignored for most of the conversation, had already cleaned and arranged her kittens inside the box and was asleep.
"I don't know what I'm gonna do with 'em," Argus said. "But it seems their mother is doin' all the work fer now. Guess I'll jus' keep keeping an eye on 'em."
"It's so good of you to take care of them. They're so beautiful." Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight when she spoke about the kittens, and he couldn't help but stare.
"Yes, they are," he said, and for the first time, felt something more than contempt and loathing for his job.
The next day, Argus painstakingly combed through the castle, checking off his list of non-magical to-do's and magical to-be-done's that he would hand over to the Headmaster. If he wasn't a Squib, he could probably get the repairs and maintenance done in half the time without needing to walk the entirety of the castle several times a day. Argus' keen eye spotted a lot of things that a witch or wizard would overlook, which made him valuable as a caretaker. As the day wore on, his keen eye longed to see something other than cracked mortar between the stone walls or fraying edges of banners.
He doubled back through the corridors near the Arithmancy classroom on a hope and a prayer, and suddenly, there she was.
"Oh, hello Argus," she said, his name practically a song in the air.
"Err… hello... " he said. His words still needed a little encouragement, but who could blame him when his heart stuttered into double time whenever she appeared.
Her smile dazzled him. "You can call me Ella. It's only fair."
His heart wasn't as insistent as his sensibilities which manifested a frown on his face. Sure, she was twice as pretty as anyone he'd ever seen, but no one was this nice to him.
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked, losing her smile, and he found that his world had suddenly clouded over.
"Ah no," he said. "I'd better get back to work. I've got a list longer than my arm that needs shortening before the daylight's spent." Now that he'd seen her, he didn't need to make a damnedable fool out of himself.
"Do you think it would be alright if I could see the kittens again?"
"That'd be alright, I guess," he said, scratching the back of his head. "I check on 'em when it's dark. They're calm, and the mother cat doesn't mind me so much at night."
"I'll meet you up there? Say, nine o'clock?"
Argus shrugged. He'd be through most of his list by then. "Sounds about right."
It wasn't until she walked away that a strange feeling washed over him, part worry, part anticipation. That night, precisely at nine o'clock, Argus went to the Astronomy Tower, half expecting to tend to the kittens and the mother cat alone, half holding onto the unlikely dream that Ella Vanderblundt was waiting for him. When climbed the last step, there she was, watching the mother cat bathe her brood. Then she turned around and smiled at him, and his heart bloomed.
Argus went through the rest of his week with a whistle on his lips. Every night at nine o'clock sharp, he'd met Ella Vanderblundt up in the Astronomy Tower to check on the kittens. They had talked about how much she loved numbers, but didn't care for academic life. Even if he hadn't been interested in her words, he would have listened intently anyway, just to hear her beautiful voice.
Being the Arithmancy Professor stand-in, she was very interested in numbers, and had caught him in the middle of writing down measurements for some new wooden planks on the door jam that needed replacing.
"Eighty-four inches by two," he was writing down when she peered over his shoulder.
"How do you know it's eighty-four?" she asked.
"Err, because it is?" He shrugged.
"But you don't have any measuring devices. Don't you need a tape measure, or a yard stick?"
"Nah," he said. "I've got these." He pointed to his eyes. "I'm not trying to bamboozle you. My numbers are good."
"Is that right? Tell me about some numbers that I would know."
He took straight to her challenge, starting with her her height, and then he recited her head circumference in millimeters. When she asked him to tell her something else that she would know, he looked her up and down, all the tempting numbers springing to his head.
"You wear a size nine shoe. Narrow."
"That's amazing!" she exclaimed.
"I'm not that clever," he said. "It's only numbers."
She scoffed. "Tell me, Argus Filch. Do you like pumpernickel?"
"It's my favorite," he said, and didn't even have to lie about it. The house elves never had it around, and he wondered how Ella would get her hands on it.
It turned out that she got her hands well into it, because the next time they met, she had a fresh loaf wrapped in a flour towel, tucked underneath her arm.
"I baked it myself," she said, and it was just as delicious as her voice was beautiful.
It was probably the kittens, he reasoned, that kept Ella Vanderblundt coming back to the Astronomy Tower every night. He tried not to dwell on the fact that soon enough, she wouldn't have a reason to meet him there, and that thought made him more woeful than he'd ever been before he'd met her.
"They can't stay here forever," he said, leaning over her to look inside the box where the mother and her kittens were sleeping. "The students are allowed to have pets, but the Headmaster doesn't allow 'em to be unattended."
"I'll take one," she said. She was somber for a moment. "It will be the one thing that's mine."
"What do you mean?" Argus asked, flabbergasted that she would be so sad about her future when she had so much talent and beauty.
"When I leave Hogwarts in December, I'm supposed to participate in a delegation to France. My father is training me to be a foreign diplomat and follow in his footsteps. But it's not where my heart is."
Traveling around the world sounded grand to Argus, who had only experienced the 'here' or Hogwarts, and the 'there' of the village where he had been raised. "What would you rather be doing?" he wanted to know.
"I just want a simple life. I think I ought to be well good and happy as a librarian. I'm good with organization and numbers. I love the simplicity of it."
He didn't know anything about being a diplomat, but he knew very well about life not allowing someone to follow their dreams.
"Surely, you have dreams too, Argus."
"Ah, it's silly."
"Dreams are never silly. My father only thinks so, because I dream about being less than he wants me to be. But he doesn't understand that fame is only one kind of measure. As a librarian, I can measure my success by how many people I can help to broaden their knowledge of the world. I guess I'd be helping people as a diplomat, but I think it's worth more to help people who seek out my help, than helping people who would rather see the world the way they want to."
"I think you'd be a wonderful librarian," Argus said.
"I'd change my name," she said thoughtfully. "I've always liked the name Penelope. It's my middle name, but my father wants me to have a memorable name. I just want to be approachable."
Argus thought about how he almost couldn't talk to her on the night they first met because of her stunning beauty and poise, And then he thought about his gruff mannerisms and his thankless job doing things that no one else wanted to do. The things that set them both apart had become the same things that kept them lonely.
"I'd like a different name too," he said. "Elby's a good, proper name."
"Elby," she said, and smiled. "What kind of job would Elby have?"
"Ah," he said. "I don't do much, with all the shenanigans going on around here."
But you do everything!" Ella cried. "You fixed my squeaking door and you polished the magic-resistant brass. You counted all the door frames and measured them to size for replacement beams. This castle would fall apart if it weren't for you!"
Argus couldn't help blushing under the shower of her praise. "True. If it weren't for me, things would be all cattywampus around here. It just seems like if I had magic, I'd do more."
"What would you do?"
Argus rubbed the back of his neck. Surely, he would want to make beautiful things, like the Transfiguration Professor, although transfigured items always managed to morph back into their original forms. Then he thought about his tools and hammers and the one thing that always brought him happiness.
"I'd be a Leathersmith," he said. "I know it don't require magic, but there's nothing like the smell of hide and working the smooth of it with my hands."
"Elby the Leathersmith."
"Penelope the Librarian."
They laughed together. "It sounds like a wonderful dream!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "We could live in Southwold, by the sea."
Argus scratched his head. "Southwold has a library?"
"If it didn't, I'd start one. And you could fashion leather, and we could raise the kittens."
Argus found himself transported into the dream with her. "We'd have the finest leather boots in the whole town that everyone would want a pair," he added, nodding.
"And you'd be the best sought after leathersmith in all the surrounding villages! They would have the most comfortable shoes in all the land!"
"Ah, if only," he sighed, clinging to the idea as if to a fading dream.
Halfway through the Fall Term, Argus rounded the corner just in time to witness the ensuing kerfuffle of careless students climbing out of a priceless suit of armor that had recently been restored. Why they'd decided to keep it in a hallway in a boarding school for insolent children was beyond his comprehension.
Caught in the act, they had panicked and knocked the whole thing over onto the stone floor. Argus could make out the fresh dents in the faceplate from where he stood.
"You nincompoops!"
A hand lay on his arm, startling a few other choice words out of him. "Let it go, Argus."
Argus sputtered through his objections. "They damaged a seven hundred year old artifact that was lent to Hogwarts from the Magical Historical Society. I don't earn it's worth in a year. How can I just let it go?"
"Elby would."
Her gentle voice eased his angst. He watched, embarrassed by his outburst while she flicked and swished and the artifact reassembled itself on the pedestal, intact and pristine.
As the students slunk away, he clicked his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "Those lummoxes better skedaddle while they can. Ah, Elby's a better man than I."
She linked her arm in his. "And Penelope likes him that way. Let's check on the babies."
Later, as they watched the kittens sleeping, Ella put her hand gently on his.
"You don't need to put up with that malarkey from the students, Argus."
When she spoke, it magically erased all the frustration from his day. He grinned foolishly. "Malarkey, eh?"
"It's a technical term," she said properly.
They watched the kittens in silence.
"I should go. It's getting late." She patted him on the arm and pecked him lightly on the cheek. "Goodnight, Argus."
As she disappeared down the stairs, Argus was too discombobulated to respond. All this time, he'd thought Ella was only interested in the kittens. But as he thought about it, his weeks that had turned into months with Ella Vanderblandt came more into focus. She laughed at his jokes. She made him pumpernickel. She kissed his stubbly cheek. For some ungodly reason, Ella Penelope Vanderblandt liked him.
And as soon as the fall term was over, she was leaving. He knew he would never forget her, and he wanted to give her something to remember him by, something to repay her for the kindness and companionship that he thought he'd never have.
He whistled back to his private chambers and was up half the night making a pair of dainty, size nine leather boots.
On the morning of the last day of the term, Argus set a new pair of boots outside Ella's chambers, half afraid to knock, and half afraid not to. When he returned from his morning rounds, he discovered a fresh loaf of pumpernickel bread on his doorstep, and smiled in spite of the way the day was going to break his heart. He wasn't good with words. He was worse with goodbyes.
In the late summer of 1989, a grey-haired Argus Filch opened an envelope penned in a familiar script. It was from one of his long time customers, and included a short note.
"I love the way you see me in measurements and figures,
And how, in your eyes, I add up to a sum that equals more than my parts."
Accompanying the note was a requisition and pre-payment voucher, along with a photograph of a pair of bare feet, with a banana for scale.
Of all the boots he'd been commissioned to make, this was always his favorite order. After threading the last eyelet and tying the laces into a loose bow, he set his finished masterpiece down on the floor, where his cat rubbed up against them in approval.
Twenty years ago, he never dreamed that he'd want to stay a minute longer at Hogwarts as the magicless caretaker. But after a while, he'd found his place and made the castle his home. Besides, there was nothing out in the world worth leaving for any longer.
He slipped Ella Vanderblundt's letter into a folder that contained clippings he'd collected over the years. Articles reported her success at becoming a well-regarded diplomat. Announcements publicized her engagement and marriage to some well-to-do upper crust wizard. There was even a public endorsement Ella had given a little-known leathersmith from the Scottish Highlands, who only took orders by owl and produced the most comfortable handmade leather boots in the known world.
He closed his eyes and saw her, clear as the day she appeared in the Astronomy Tower. In his dreams, Elby was a famous leatherworker, and Penelope was a renowned research librarian in Southwold. They'd have a cottage by the sea, and while he'd be stitching a pair of shoes, she'd sit beside him, reading some book, or doing some research to help someone better themselves the way that she had bettered him.
As his cat leapt up and curled into his lap, he patted her fondly. "It's not a bad dream for an old caretaker. Isn't that right, Mrs. Norris?"
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Thanks for reading my story. A special thank you goes to Aya DieFair and Tidal Dragon for their beta services. This was written for the Snazzy Words Challenge and the Filch In Love Challenge on HPFT.