The Way of The Squib
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a sequel to "Squib Wizard"
Chapter 2: Seekers
"Students out of bed!!!!"
There appeared to be a poltergeist in my room.
"Oy! Filch!"
Maybe I was just having a nightmare.
"Get *up,* Filch!"
No, Peeves was really here.
In the middle of the night. Yelling.
I burrowed under the blankets and put my pillow over my head.
The wretched poltergeist began to lob stale dinner rolls at me. (He steals them from the tables at
dinner and keeps them until they are harder than Hagrid's rock cakes.)
"Students! Out! Of! Bed!"
Each word was accompanied by a chunk of bread bouncing off my back.
"Go away..." I moaned. "I've had barely four hours sleep, and that's over the last two days..."
"Oooh!" Peeves cackled at me. "Poor, tired old Filch wants his beauty sleep, does he? Well, one
hundred years' beauty sleep wouldn't help that phiz of yours!"
His voice turned oily. "Good ickle students should be safe in their beds at night. Bad ones who go
running about should be caught and punished! Neglecting your responsibilities just a bit, aren't you?"
Curse him, he was right.
I never thought I'd see the day when I'd need Peeves to remind me of my proper duty.
Blearily, I managed to sit up. For a moment or two all I could do was blink and stare.
The poltergeist bounced a stale roll off my head.
"Listen, why don't you go and torment them for me, until I get there...?" I asked him, too weary
even to dodge.
Peeves gave me a wicked glare. I could see the gleam in his eyes, even in the dimness of my
room.
"Lazy old Filch is just going to go right back to sleep!" Peeves said, accusingly.
"I mean it," I yawned. "I'll be right there. Where did you say these students were?"
"In the entrance hall. And you'd better be quick! Or they'll be outside!!"
That woke me up.
"Delay them. I'll be right behind you..." I said, fumbling around for my slippers.
Grinning with satisfaction, Peeves turned and flew out, through my bedroom wall.
Mrs. Norris, who was curled up on my bed, stirred and had herself a luxuriant stretch. She
looked at the bits of bread everywhere and blinked her golden eyes.
"Don't ask..." I said. "Are you coming with me, or would you rather sleep?"
She rubbed herself against me, purring even more affectionately than usual. Then she jumped
down from the bed. Blue-and-copper was already there by the time I stumbled over to the wall, with her
following.
"The entrance hall..." I murmured. "Please..."
******
Mrs. Norris and I emerged into another bread-storm.
"Merlin's Beard, Peeves! Don't you ever let the students have any of these accursed dinner
rolls?" I moaned.
Peeves broke off his attack and hovered nearby, to witness my confrontation with the miscreants.
From the look of him, he was hoping that I was going to shout myself into a fit of apoplexy.
I could see two boys in the middle of the vast entrance hall, brushing stale bits of roll out of their
hair and off their robes. Fifth year Harry Potter and fourth year Colin Creevey, both of Gryffindor. Both
were holding brooms. Potter had his Firebolt and Creevey was carrying one of the school brooms; a rather
old Shooting Star.
Stale bread crunched under my slippers as I made my way over to them. Mrs. Norris padded
softly after me.
"Where do the two of you think you're going?" I asked.
Thanks to the highly efficient Hogwarts grapevine, I already knew the answer to my question.
As the only Seeker on the Gryffindor House team, Potter carried a heavy responsibility. At least
one reserve Seeker was needed, and Potter had chosen Creevey from among several candidates. I'm no
expert on Quidditch, but I thought it was a wise decision. Creevey, like Potter, is small, quick and agile.
And enthusiastic. Very, very enthusiastic.
According to Minerva, who was pleased with Potter's choice, Creevey had the makings of a fine
Seeker. Plenty of raw talent. Muggle-born Creevey was eager for all the flying practice he could get. Even
if it was in the middle of the night.
To their credit, neither boy tried lying to me, or bluffing. It would have been obvious to the
thickest troll what they'd been trying to do, and they knew it.
"This is my fault," Potter said. "Not Colin's. It was my idea."
"No..." Creevey piped up. "It was my idea, really! Don't blame Harry!"
I sighed. "Boys, it doesn't matter who had the idea. You're both here. You're both getting
detention. As soon as I can think of one that's miserable enough. Flying around in the dark. What were
you thinking?"
"Could have broken their necks..." Peeves cackled, gleefully, rubbing his hands together. He was
prompting me, waiting for me to put on a good show for him. But I was too sleepy to work up any real
anger. I felt more relief than anything. The boys had been caught before anything too terrible could
happen.
"Go back to your beds," I told them, quietly. "I'll speak to Professor McGonagall about the two of
you in the morning, and we will arrange a suitable detention. Tomorrow is Saturday. You don't have
classes. You can practice your flying all day if you wish, in the light, like sensible people."
Both boys turned to go back up the stairs.
Peeves looked at me with anger and disappointment on his sharp little face. I was too busy
yawning to care.
******
Sweeping up the entrance hall didn't take as long as I'd feared. When Mrs. Norris and I returned
to our room, I discovered that one or more of the house-elves must have paid us a visit and set my bed
back to rights. Not so much as a bread crumb in sight!
Relieved, I crawled back under my blankets.
I slept right through breakfast, as I've often done lately.
Eventually, I was awakened by Mrs. Norris. She was making a most distressing sound. A long,
low crooning yowl.
"What is it, my sweet?" I asked, petting her. "What's wrong?"
She pressed up against me, kneading the bedclothes with her claws. Her tail end rose as I stroked
her. She continued making that pitiful noise.
"Oh... no." I said. I buried my face in my hands.
It had been a very long time, but I knew the signs.
A certain long-standing Charm had worn off.
My poor cat was in heat.
******
Professor Flitwick had been given the task of finding a way to block my Doors, and he'd risen to
the challenge. The diminutive Professor was the most Unreachable person in the Castle. He had
Unreachable Charms protecting his office, and Unreachable Charms protecting himself. Both the
Headmaster and Alastor Moody agreed that the Castle's defenses should not include a weapon that we
ourselves did not know how to fight. Any weapon had the potential to be turned against us.
When I tried to enter Professor Flitwick's office via red-and-gold, the journey took a long time.
When I finally emerged into the corridor near his office (the closest the Charm would allow) I found the
door locked.
In desperation, I asked red-and-gold to take me directly to him. It was an emergency! Professor
Flitwick needed to renew the Charm which had kept Mrs. Norris safe from the demands of her urge to
breed!
To my surprise, I emerged from red-and-gold to find myself back in the Charms corridor once
more. Several more attempts, with the other Doors, produced the same results.
I realized the truth that I'd been unwilling to accept. My Doors could not bring me to Professor
Flitwick because he must not be in the Castle, or anywhere on the Castle grounds! He must have had plans
for today. I hoped that he would return soon. Being cooped up in her current miserable state would be very
difficult for poor Mrs. Norris! I'd left her shut up in our rooms, wailing her little heart out.
Perhaps one of the other professors might be capable of working the complex anti-estrus charm?
But no one else would have Flitwick's gentle touch. Mrs. Norris trusted him. Professor McGonagall was
the only other Professor that Mrs. Norris was as fond of.
Could I raise this delicate subject with Minerva?
She was really my only choice.
******
Uncharacteristically, Mrs. Norris hissed at Minerva, when I brought the Deputy Headmistress
into our rooms. Professor McGonagall was carrying a book describing the workings of the anti-estrus
charm.
"She's seeing me as a rival..." Minerva said. "Another female in her territory. Poor thing. She's
really in quite a state!"
"Is there anything you can do for her?" I asked, anxiously. We had to speak loudly in order to be
heard over Mrs. Norris. She was rubbing up against me with great affection, wailing piteously while
simultaneously bristling and glowering at Minerva.
Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I'm afraid not. The anti-estrus charm is one I've never
done before and I don't wish to experiment on Mrs. Norris. Besides, the charm loses effectiveness once
the cat in question has started a breeding cycle."
"Argus," she continued gently, "The charm was never meant to be permanent. Filius must have
told you that."
I nodded, biting my lip.
"The charm must have reached the end of its natural span. Perhaps, now, you must simply let
nature take its course."
"No," I said, stubbornly. "Never again! You remember what happened last time! Kittens are a
bother that she and I can do without very nicely, thank you! A lot of trouble and heartache! There must be
some other way! Perhaps when Professor Flitwick returns he can try another Charm on her!"
"He's gone for the entire weekend," Minerva told me. "Are you really willing to let her go on like
this?"
"I don't want to, but I don't have a choice!" I said.
Minerva's expression was stern. Her clear, grey eyes urged me to reconsider.
Frowning, I shook my head.
"Thank you for your advice, Professor," I said. "As long as you're here, we might as well discuss
the detention plans for Potter and Creevey. Let's go into the corridor, so we can hear each other!"
I had to pause first, to pry Mrs. Norris away from me. Minerva gave my cat a very sympathetic
look as I shut the door on her pitiful yowling.
******
Minerva suggested that I seek Poppy's opinion on what to do about Mrs. Norris.
Poppy had not been much help either.
She'd agreed with Minerva. "Oh, the poor little thing!" she said, when I described Mrs. Norris's
condition.
"Filch, you ought to just let her do what comes naturally! There are plenty of healthy tomcats in
the Castle. Once she's bred, she'll be fine."
"She won't be fine!" I wailed. "She'll be pregnant! She'll have kittens!"
Poppy remembered the last time, years ago. She patted my arm comfortingly. "She was a good
mother, Argus."
"I know she was a good mother. I just don't want her put through all that, again!"
Poppy sighed. "I've given you my advice. Take it or leave it."
*******
Grumbling, I'd retreated down to my office. Minerva had left the choice of Potter and Creevey's
detention up to me, and I was still trying to think of something suitable.
Pulling a chain off my wall, I began to polish. Mrs. Norris and her problem were still uppermost
on my mind. I'd already decided that she and I would wait for Professor Flitwick, and hope that he knew
another Charm to help her. It was going to be a long weekend for both of us.
Two long chains and a set of manacles were gleaming under fresh coats of polish before I calmed
down.
Potter and Creevey. I really needed a detention worthy of the intrepid Gryffindor Seeker and his
enthusiastic little apprentice...
I reached for another chain.
The third chain did the trick. I finally had an idea.
The entrance hall floor could use another good scrubbing! I had only done it once, since
December.
Ordinarily I would never choose washing that floor as a detention-task. Not because I wish to
spare the children's backs, hands or knees. A little hard work never did anyone any lasting harm.
It's because I can't abide shoddy work. The entrance hall floor is something that I take particular
pride in. Most of the students will try to pass half-hearted efforts off as their best job, unless they are
carefully supervised. Being expected to do something so menial as *clean,* without magic, like a Muggle,
is so demeaning for them.
But, Potter is different from most of the other students.
I discovered this when I supervised him during a detention for Professor Snape a few years back.
Severus had asked me to have Potter scrub out a collection of filthy flasks, bottles and beakers. All with
bits of unidentifiable old potions crusted in hard-to-reach places.
Severus had probably been hoping that Potter would break a lot of them, which would give him a
reason to sneer, scold and deduct points from Gryffindor.
Potter hadn't broken a single one. And he'd gotten them to sparkle! All without any prompting
or badgering from me!
"You should have seen him, Professor!" I'd said, later. "Not a word about how hard a job it was.
He just washed them all, right down to the very bottoms... without being told. Even the tiny ones! He just
picked up the right-sized bottle brush and went at 'em!"
"And, then," I'd continued, enthusiastically, "he dried each one carefully, making sure that there
were no streaks! No matter what else you may think of him, Harry Potter really knows how to *clean!*"
Poor Severus. He had not been pleased by this report. He'd given me one of his nastiest sneers.
"Please, Filch. Do try to contain your delight. The boy is a wizard, not a house elf."
I'd sighed. Many pure-bloods, in all four Houses, have this same arrogance. Power is their
birthright. They are the magic-wielding lords of creation; meant for finer things than scrubbing. (In my
heart, I know that I really can't blame the pure-blooded wizards for feeling this way. I'd probably be no
different... if I wasn't a Squib.)
Muggle-borns can be refreshing sometimes. At least the Muggle-borns know that their magic is
a gift. They truly appreciate what they've been given. Potter was not Muggle-born, but he was Muggle-
raised. The effect was the same.
Severus had given me another caustic look. "I hope that you did not make a fool of yourself,
singing the boy's praises like some empty headed celebrity-worshipper."
I'd blinked at him. "You know that wouldn't be like me, Professor. Potter was only doing exactly
what he ought to do! He didn't act as if he expected praise, and I didn't offer him any. I just wish that the
other brats were more like him..."
Severus had not been able to suppress a shudder.
*******
"The entrance hall floor?" Minerva said. "That's quite a big job."
"Their offense merits it. They weren't only out of their beds, they were trying to sneak outside!
Potter is certainly up to washing the entrance hall floor. He can clean like a house elf! I mean that as a
compliment, Professor. And Creevey is full of stamina. He's like Professor Flitwick, after he's had one too
many of those cherry syrup and sodas! It won't hurt Creevey to put all that energy into something useful.
And, I'm not going to leave them to do it all alone. I'm going to work along with them. We can do the job
tonight and get it over with."
"The boys have been practicing on their brooms all day," Minerva said, frowning. "They're going
to be tired..."
"Tomorrow is Sunday. They can sleep late."
She gave me one of her stern looks. "Admit it. You wish for a good reason to stay away from
your rooms this evening, so you will not have to listen to poor Mrs. Norris. Honestly, Argus..."
I knew that I was guilty as charged.
"If you would just..." Minerva began.
"No," I said, firmly.
Professor McGonagall sighed.
"What about Potter and Creevey?" I asked. "Do I have your permission to proceed with their
detention this evening?"
After another sigh, Minerva nodded.
"Good. It's settled," I said.
END OF CHAPTER TWO
********
Author's Notes:
Alchemine: Thank you!! Rowling never mentioned exactly how old Filch is. But I tend to think of him
as being a few years older than McGonagall, who is middle-aged for a witch. In the books, Filch is very
active, always running after students and after Peeves. He's probably no older than late-middle age. But he
thinks of himself as "old" because he's had a hard life. Snape and Lucius Malfoy refer to Filch as "old"
because the caretaker is old, compared to them. And, to kids Harry's age, he seems incredibly ancient.
Unrepentant Reader: Thank you!! You wanted more chapters right away! That's such a nice compliment!
Lataradk: Thank you!! I love the idea about the slingshots! Imagine shooting dungbombs with a
slingshot...
Good point about Rita being too "obvious" to be a Slytherin. She's got an arrogant nastiness. She doesn't
mind if her prey knows she's after them, because they can't stop her anyway. I think I like the idea of her
being in Ravenclaw.
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, Mrs. Norris didn't give Harry away because he'd just saved Filch from
getting smooshed, and it wouldn't have been very honorable. Oooh, I don't want to think about a double-
strength killing curse. The victim wouldn't be twice as dead, but maybe their death wouldn't leave the
body unmarked. And the mirror might shatter as it reflected the Curse; it probably wasn't made to reflect
something as strong as an Unforgivable.
I think I saw "Xiomara" listed as Hooch's first name on one of the Harry Potter movie websites. The cast
list included the first and last names of each character. I'm assuming that this must be the Official J. K.
Rowling-approved first name for Madam Hooch, even though it hasn't yet appeared in the books.
I put some more space between the end of the story and the notes this time.
RioRaptor: Thank you!! (Say Hi to Shadow!) Harry gasped because he recognized Rita Skeeter's name. He
wasn't expecting to know the student that Filch had confiscated the mirror from.
Elspeth: Thank you!! Yes, Harry told Ron and Hermione about Filch in the morning. Filch would
certainly not be happy if he knew that they knew. But he's not going to know. (At least not for the
foreseeable future.)
Among Filch's other treasures are a flute that will make the listeners dance, whether they want to or not.
If played for too long, it will drive the listeners to dance themselves into exhaustion. There's also one of
those cursed scrolls that forces a person to keep reading. Filch doesn't know that either of these things can
be dangerous; he doesn't have the magic to make the flute work, and he just took the scroll without
looking at it.
I agree that Rita would have made a good Slytherin, but I think I'm going to put her in Ravenclaw, if the
subject ever comes up again. The people in other houses can be sneaky too, the Slytherins have just raised
it to an art form.
I absolutely loved what you said about Lockhart, and his original name being something like "George
Jones" or "Gilbert Blodgett." And you are right, he's probably a Gryffindor. Stealing the heroic deeds of
all those other people would take balls of pure brass.
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! The secret of my fast writing can be summed up in a single word: insomnia.
Yes, Moody was repeating information so Harry would get the whole story. Moody considered what he
was doing "damage control." Moody considers Harry, along with his partners Hermione and Ron, one of
the Castle's best "unofficial" assets. Moody knew that if Harry did not get the whole story, he wouldn't
rest until he did.
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Yes, the mirror would probably reflect the Unforgivables, though it may
shatter the first time it did so. A double-strength Cruciatus is something I don't want to think about
either. (Shudder.)
Mrs. Norris and Moody were both hiding Harry from Filch. Mrs. Norris knew Harry was there, through
scent, and Moody could see him. Filch doesn't know about the invisibility cloak, so the possibility that the
"eavesdropper" was a student didn't occur to him.
Gramarye: Thank you!! More Colin next chapter!
Rabbit: Thank you!! Yes, I think I'll put Rita in Ravenclaw...
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a sequel to "Squib Wizard"
Chapter 2: Seekers
"Students out of bed!!!!"
There appeared to be a poltergeist in my room.
"Oy! Filch!"
Maybe I was just having a nightmare.
"Get *up,* Filch!"
No, Peeves was really here.
In the middle of the night. Yelling.
I burrowed under the blankets and put my pillow over my head.
The wretched poltergeist began to lob stale dinner rolls at me. (He steals them from the tables at
dinner and keeps them until they are harder than Hagrid's rock cakes.)
"Students! Out! Of! Bed!"
Each word was accompanied by a chunk of bread bouncing off my back.
"Go away..." I moaned. "I've had barely four hours sleep, and that's over the last two days..."
"Oooh!" Peeves cackled at me. "Poor, tired old Filch wants his beauty sleep, does he? Well, one
hundred years' beauty sleep wouldn't help that phiz of yours!"
His voice turned oily. "Good ickle students should be safe in their beds at night. Bad ones who go
running about should be caught and punished! Neglecting your responsibilities just a bit, aren't you?"
Curse him, he was right.
I never thought I'd see the day when I'd need Peeves to remind me of my proper duty.
Blearily, I managed to sit up. For a moment or two all I could do was blink and stare.
The poltergeist bounced a stale roll off my head.
"Listen, why don't you go and torment them for me, until I get there...?" I asked him, too weary
even to dodge.
Peeves gave me a wicked glare. I could see the gleam in his eyes, even in the dimness of my
room.
"Lazy old Filch is just going to go right back to sleep!" Peeves said, accusingly.
"I mean it," I yawned. "I'll be right there. Where did you say these students were?"
"In the entrance hall. And you'd better be quick! Or they'll be outside!!"
That woke me up.
"Delay them. I'll be right behind you..." I said, fumbling around for my slippers.
Grinning with satisfaction, Peeves turned and flew out, through my bedroom wall.
Mrs. Norris, who was curled up on my bed, stirred and had herself a luxuriant stretch. She
looked at the bits of bread everywhere and blinked her golden eyes.
"Don't ask..." I said. "Are you coming with me, or would you rather sleep?"
She rubbed herself against me, purring even more affectionately than usual. Then she jumped
down from the bed. Blue-and-copper was already there by the time I stumbled over to the wall, with her
following.
"The entrance hall..." I murmured. "Please..."
******
Mrs. Norris and I emerged into another bread-storm.
"Merlin's Beard, Peeves! Don't you ever let the students have any of these accursed dinner
rolls?" I moaned.
Peeves broke off his attack and hovered nearby, to witness my confrontation with the miscreants.
From the look of him, he was hoping that I was going to shout myself into a fit of apoplexy.
I could see two boys in the middle of the vast entrance hall, brushing stale bits of roll out of their
hair and off their robes. Fifth year Harry Potter and fourth year Colin Creevey, both of Gryffindor. Both
were holding brooms. Potter had his Firebolt and Creevey was carrying one of the school brooms; a rather
old Shooting Star.
Stale bread crunched under my slippers as I made my way over to them. Mrs. Norris padded
softly after me.
"Where do the two of you think you're going?" I asked.
Thanks to the highly efficient Hogwarts grapevine, I already knew the answer to my question.
As the only Seeker on the Gryffindor House team, Potter carried a heavy responsibility. At least
one reserve Seeker was needed, and Potter had chosen Creevey from among several candidates. I'm no
expert on Quidditch, but I thought it was a wise decision. Creevey, like Potter, is small, quick and agile.
And enthusiastic. Very, very enthusiastic.
According to Minerva, who was pleased with Potter's choice, Creevey had the makings of a fine
Seeker. Plenty of raw talent. Muggle-born Creevey was eager for all the flying practice he could get. Even
if it was in the middle of the night.
To their credit, neither boy tried lying to me, or bluffing. It would have been obvious to the
thickest troll what they'd been trying to do, and they knew it.
"This is my fault," Potter said. "Not Colin's. It was my idea."
"No..." Creevey piped up. "It was my idea, really! Don't blame Harry!"
I sighed. "Boys, it doesn't matter who had the idea. You're both here. You're both getting
detention. As soon as I can think of one that's miserable enough. Flying around in the dark. What were
you thinking?"
"Could have broken their necks..." Peeves cackled, gleefully, rubbing his hands together. He was
prompting me, waiting for me to put on a good show for him. But I was too sleepy to work up any real
anger. I felt more relief than anything. The boys had been caught before anything too terrible could
happen.
"Go back to your beds," I told them, quietly. "I'll speak to Professor McGonagall about the two of
you in the morning, and we will arrange a suitable detention. Tomorrow is Saturday. You don't have
classes. You can practice your flying all day if you wish, in the light, like sensible people."
Both boys turned to go back up the stairs.
Peeves looked at me with anger and disappointment on his sharp little face. I was too busy
yawning to care.
******
Sweeping up the entrance hall didn't take as long as I'd feared. When Mrs. Norris and I returned
to our room, I discovered that one or more of the house-elves must have paid us a visit and set my bed
back to rights. Not so much as a bread crumb in sight!
Relieved, I crawled back under my blankets.
I slept right through breakfast, as I've often done lately.
Eventually, I was awakened by Mrs. Norris. She was making a most distressing sound. A long,
low crooning yowl.
"What is it, my sweet?" I asked, petting her. "What's wrong?"
She pressed up against me, kneading the bedclothes with her claws. Her tail end rose as I stroked
her. She continued making that pitiful noise.
"Oh... no." I said. I buried my face in my hands.
It had been a very long time, but I knew the signs.
A certain long-standing Charm had worn off.
My poor cat was in heat.
******
Professor Flitwick had been given the task of finding a way to block my Doors, and he'd risen to
the challenge. The diminutive Professor was the most Unreachable person in the Castle. He had
Unreachable Charms protecting his office, and Unreachable Charms protecting himself. Both the
Headmaster and Alastor Moody agreed that the Castle's defenses should not include a weapon that we
ourselves did not know how to fight. Any weapon had the potential to be turned against us.
When I tried to enter Professor Flitwick's office via red-and-gold, the journey took a long time.
When I finally emerged into the corridor near his office (the closest the Charm would allow) I found the
door locked.
In desperation, I asked red-and-gold to take me directly to him. It was an emergency! Professor
Flitwick needed to renew the Charm which had kept Mrs. Norris safe from the demands of her urge to
breed!
To my surprise, I emerged from red-and-gold to find myself back in the Charms corridor once
more. Several more attempts, with the other Doors, produced the same results.
I realized the truth that I'd been unwilling to accept. My Doors could not bring me to Professor
Flitwick because he must not be in the Castle, or anywhere on the Castle grounds! He must have had plans
for today. I hoped that he would return soon. Being cooped up in her current miserable state would be very
difficult for poor Mrs. Norris! I'd left her shut up in our rooms, wailing her little heart out.
Perhaps one of the other professors might be capable of working the complex anti-estrus charm?
But no one else would have Flitwick's gentle touch. Mrs. Norris trusted him. Professor McGonagall was
the only other Professor that Mrs. Norris was as fond of.
Could I raise this delicate subject with Minerva?
She was really my only choice.
******
Uncharacteristically, Mrs. Norris hissed at Minerva, when I brought the Deputy Headmistress
into our rooms. Professor McGonagall was carrying a book describing the workings of the anti-estrus
charm.
"She's seeing me as a rival..." Minerva said. "Another female in her territory. Poor thing. She's
really in quite a state!"
"Is there anything you can do for her?" I asked, anxiously. We had to speak loudly in order to be
heard over Mrs. Norris. She was rubbing up against me with great affection, wailing piteously while
simultaneously bristling and glowering at Minerva.
Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I'm afraid not. The anti-estrus charm is one I've never
done before and I don't wish to experiment on Mrs. Norris. Besides, the charm loses effectiveness once
the cat in question has started a breeding cycle."
"Argus," she continued gently, "The charm was never meant to be permanent. Filius must have
told you that."
I nodded, biting my lip.
"The charm must have reached the end of its natural span. Perhaps, now, you must simply let
nature take its course."
"No," I said, stubbornly. "Never again! You remember what happened last time! Kittens are a
bother that she and I can do without very nicely, thank you! A lot of trouble and heartache! There must be
some other way! Perhaps when Professor Flitwick returns he can try another Charm on her!"
"He's gone for the entire weekend," Minerva told me. "Are you really willing to let her go on like
this?"
"I don't want to, but I don't have a choice!" I said.
Minerva's expression was stern. Her clear, grey eyes urged me to reconsider.
Frowning, I shook my head.
"Thank you for your advice, Professor," I said. "As long as you're here, we might as well discuss
the detention plans for Potter and Creevey. Let's go into the corridor, so we can hear each other!"
I had to pause first, to pry Mrs. Norris away from me. Minerva gave my cat a very sympathetic
look as I shut the door on her pitiful yowling.
******
Minerva suggested that I seek Poppy's opinion on what to do about Mrs. Norris.
Poppy had not been much help either.
She'd agreed with Minerva. "Oh, the poor little thing!" she said, when I described Mrs. Norris's
condition.
"Filch, you ought to just let her do what comes naturally! There are plenty of healthy tomcats in
the Castle. Once she's bred, she'll be fine."
"She won't be fine!" I wailed. "She'll be pregnant! She'll have kittens!"
Poppy remembered the last time, years ago. She patted my arm comfortingly. "She was a good
mother, Argus."
"I know she was a good mother. I just don't want her put through all that, again!"
Poppy sighed. "I've given you my advice. Take it or leave it."
*******
Grumbling, I'd retreated down to my office. Minerva had left the choice of Potter and Creevey's
detention up to me, and I was still trying to think of something suitable.
Pulling a chain off my wall, I began to polish. Mrs. Norris and her problem were still uppermost
on my mind. I'd already decided that she and I would wait for Professor Flitwick, and hope that he knew
another Charm to help her. It was going to be a long weekend for both of us.
Two long chains and a set of manacles were gleaming under fresh coats of polish before I calmed
down.
Potter and Creevey. I really needed a detention worthy of the intrepid Gryffindor Seeker and his
enthusiastic little apprentice...
I reached for another chain.
The third chain did the trick. I finally had an idea.
The entrance hall floor could use another good scrubbing! I had only done it once, since
December.
Ordinarily I would never choose washing that floor as a detention-task. Not because I wish to
spare the children's backs, hands or knees. A little hard work never did anyone any lasting harm.
It's because I can't abide shoddy work. The entrance hall floor is something that I take particular
pride in. Most of the students will try to pass half-hearted efforts off as their best job, unless they are
carefully supervised. Being expected to do something so menial as *clean,* without magic, like a Muggle,
is so demeaning for them.
But, Potter is different from most of the other students.
I discovered this when I supervised him during a detention for Professor Snape a few years back.
Severus had asked me to have Potter scrub out a collection of filthy flasks, bottles and beakers. All with
bits of unidentifiable old potions crusted in hard-to-reach places.
Severus had probably been hoping that Potter would break a lot of them, which would give him a
reason to sneer, scold and deduct points from Gryffindor.
Potter hadn't broken a single one. And he'd gotten them to sparkle! All without any prompting
or badgering from me!
"You should have seen him, Professor!" I'd said, later. "Not a word about how hard a job it was.
He just washed them all, right down to the very bottoms... without being told. Even the tiny ones! He just
picked up the right-sized bottle brush and went at 'em!"
"And, then," I'd continued, enthusiastically, "he dried each one carefully, making sure that there
were no streaks! No matter what else you may think of him, Harry Potter really knows how to *clean!*"
Poor Severus. He had not been pleased by this report. He'd given me one of his nastiest sneers.
"Please, Filch. Do try to contain your delight. The boy is a wizard, not a house elf."
I'd sighed. Many pure-bloods, in all four Houses, have this same arrogance. Power is their
birthright. They are the magic-wielding lords of creation; meant for finer things than scrubbing. (In my
heart, I know that I really can't blame the pure-blooded wizards for feeling this way. I'd probably be no
different... if I wasn't a Squib.)
Muggle-borns can be refreshing sometimes. At least the Muggle-borns know that their magic is
a gift. They truly appreciate what they've been given. Potter was not Muggle-born, but he was Muggle-
raised. The effect was the same.
Severus had given me another caustic look. "I hope that you did not make a fool of yourself,
singing the boy's praises like some empty headed celebrity-worshipper."
I'd blinked at him. "You know that wouldn't be like me, Professor. Potter was only doing exactly
what he ought to do! He didn't act as if he expected praise, and I didn't offer him any. I just wish that the
other brats were more like him..."
Severus had not been able to suppress a shudder.
*******
"The entrance hall floor?" Minerva said. "That's quite a big job."
"Their offense merits it. They weren't only out of their beds, they were trying to sneak outside!
Potter is certainly up to washing the entrance hall floor. He can clean like a house elf! I mean that as a
compliment, Professor. And Creevey is full of stamina. He's like Professor Flitwick, after he's had one too
many of those cherry syrup and sodas! It won't hurt Creevey to put all that energy into something useful.
And, I'm not going to leave them to do it all alone. I'm going to work along with them. We can do the job
tonight and get it over with."
"The boys have been practicing on their brooms all day," Minerva said, frowning. "They're going
to be tired..."
"Tomorrow is Sunday. They can sleep late."
She gave me one of her stern looks. "Admit it. You wish for a good reason to stay away from
your rooms this evening, so you will not have to listen to poor Mrs. Norris. Honestly, Argus..."
I knew that I was guilty as charged.
"If you would just..." Minerva began.
"No," I said, firmly.
Professor McGonagall sighed.
"What about Potter and Creevey?" I asked. "Do I have your permission to proceed with their
detention this evening?"
After another sigh, Minerva nodded.
"Good. It's settled," I said.
END OF CHAPTER TWO
********
Author's Notes:
Alchemine: Thank you!! Rowling never mentioned exactly how old Filch is. But I tend to think of him
as being a few years older than McGonagall, who is middle-aged for a witch. In the books, Filch is very
active, always running after students and after Peeves. He's probably no older than late-middle age. But he
thinks of himself as "old" because he's had a hard life. Snape and Lucius Malfoy refer to Filch as "old"
because the caretaker is old, compared to them. And, to kids Harry's age, he seems incredibly ancient.
Unrepentant Reader: Thank you!! You wanted more chapters right away! That's such a nice compliment!
Lataradk: Thank you!! I love the idea about the slingshots! Imagine shooting dungbombs with a
slingshot...
Good point about Rita being too "obvious" to be a Slytherin. She's got an arrogant nastiness. She doesn't
mind if her prey knows she's after them, because they can't stop her anyway. I think I like the idea of her
being in Ravenclaw.
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, Mrs. Norris didn't give Harry away because he'd just saved Filch from
getting smooshed, and it wouldn't have been very honorable. Oooh, I don't want to think about a double-
strength killing curse. The victim wouldn't be twice as dead, but maybe their death wouldn't leave the
body unmarked. And the mirror might shatter as it reflected the Curse; it probably wasn't made to reflect
something as strong as an Unforgivable.
I think I saw "Xiomara" listed as Hooch's first name on one of the Harry Potter movie websites. The cast
list included the first and last names of each character. I'm assuming that this must be the Official J. K.
Rowling-approved first name for Madam Hooch, even though it hasn't yet appeared in the books.
I put some more space between the end of the story and the notes this time.
RioRaptor: Thank you!! (Say Hi to Shadow!) Harry gasped because he recognized Rita Skeeter's name. He
wasn't expecting to know the student that Filch had confiscated the mirror from.
Elspeth: Thank you!! Yes, Harry told Ron and Hermione about Filch in the morning. Filch would
certainly not be happy if he knew that they knew. But he's not going to know. (At least not for the
foreseeable future.)
Among Filch's other treasures are a flute that will make the listeners dance, whether they want to or not.
If played for too long, it will drive the listeners to dance themselves into exhaustion. There's also one of
those cursed scrolls that forces a person to keep reading. Filch doesn't know that either of these things can
be dangerous; he doesn't have the magic to make the flute work, and he just took the scroll without
looking at it.
I agree that Rita would have made a good Slytherin, but I think I'm going to put her in Ravenclaw, if the
subject ever comes up again. The people in other houses can be sneaky too, the Slytherins have just raised
it to an art form.
I absolutely loved what you said about Lockhart, and his original name being something like "George
Jones" or "Gilbert Blodgett." And you are right, he's probably a Gryffindor. Stealing the heroic deeds of
all those other people would take balls of pure brass.
Ariana Deralte: Thank you!! The secret of my fast writing can be summed up in a single word: insomnia.
Yes, Moody was repeating information so Harry would get the whole story. Moody considered what he
was doing "damage control." Moody considers Harry, along with his partners Hermione and Ron, one of
the Castle's best "unofficial" assets. Moody knew that if Harry did not get the whole story, he wouldn't
rest until he did.
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Yes, the mirror would probably reflect the Unforgivables, though it may
shatter the first time it did so. A double-strength Cruciatus is something I don't want to think about
either. (Shudder.)
Mrs. Norris and Moody were both hiding Harry from Filch. Mrs. Norris knew Harry was there, through
scent, and Moody could see him. Filch doesn't know about the invisibility cloak, so the possibility that the
"eavesdropper" was a student didn't occur to him.
Gramarye: Thank you!! More Colin next chapter!
Rabbit: Thank you!! Yes, I think I'll put Rita in Ravenclaw...