Squib Apprentice
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
a story about Filch's early days at Hogwarts
Chapter Two: Apollyon Pringle
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling



Apollyon Pringle was fond of saying that he wasn't a well man. I
knew from painful experience that he was a good deal stronger than he
looked. Particularly when he was angry, which seemed to be most of the
time.

The old Caretaker was in a dreadful rage at the moment. His grip
was threatening to tear my right ear from my head.

To be honest, I couldn't blame Mr. Pringle. If my apprentice had
just tossed a scrub-bucket full of water, used to clean up someone's
sick, all over me then I would have been furious too.

"Filch," Mr. Pringle snarled as he dragged me after him into his
office. "Do you understand that we do NOT fling buckets of filthy water
about? EVER? No matter WHAT the provocation?"

"Yes, sir," I gasped, clutching at my numbed ear. "I understand.
I'm terribly sorry!"

"What have I told you about being SORRY, boy!"

"I'm sorry!" I said again, not knowing what else to say. Then I
shut up.

I'd been Pringle's apprentice for a fortnight. I thought I knew
what he was going to do now. First he'd unbuckle his leather belt. Next
he'd tell me, "pain is the best teacher." And then, he would proceed to
demonstrate.

Trembling, I waited for the old man to pronounce my sentence. But
he only stood there, glowering. He didn't say a word.

The students feared Mr. Pringle even more than I did. With good
reason. I'd heard the young witches' and wizards' screams when he
punished them. Pringle had a cat o' nine tails that he used on the
students. And he kept manacles and heavy chains in his office, hung on
the wall.

Would he use those things on me now...?

When Pringle continued to remain silent, apparently trying to get
himself under control, a dreadful possibility occurred to me. A
punishment that would be even more devastating to me than being chained
up or beaten.

"Please...?" My voice shook. "A-Are you going to have me sent
away?"

"Dismissed, you mean?" The old man asked me, harshly. "Is that
what you want?"

I thought I might be sick. "No, sir, please...! I can't go back
home! I'll try to do better! Please!"

Pringle ran a gnarled hand through his hair, grimacing at the
smell. "Merlin's TEETH, I need a bath..." he growled. Then he sighed.

"Who said anything about having you dismissed, Filch?"

"N-no one, Mr. Pringle. But I've been doing everything wrong. And
I-I thought..."

"If I could send anyone away, it'd be Peeves!" Pringle growled. "I
heard what the house-elf said. Peeves was the one who took my toolbox,
chipped the statue and spilled my Everkleen!"

The old man sighed again, visibly wrestling with his temper. "You
haven't got enough magic to turn cream into butter, you've got ten
thumbs on your hands where you should have fingers, and I've never seen
anyone who can get lost in the Castle as easily as you manage to do! But
it appears that none of the things that I blamed you for yesterday were
actually your fault."

"I did almost knock you down the stairs with a ladder..." I said,
not wanting him to remember that detail later and grow furious all over
again.

Pringle shook his head. His anger had faded, but he was still
scowling.

"You're not a very bright lad, Filch," he said, after a moment.
"But you're an honest one, which is a rare enough thing. No, I won't be
sending you away. Merlin help us both."

Weak with relief, I sagged against his desk.

The old man studied me for a long moment.

"Was living with your Mum and Dad as bad as all that?" He asked
me, gruffly.

"Oh, no, sir!" I was ashamed of myself for having given him the
wrong impression.

"I miss my parents," I said, earnestly. "And I miss being at home.
It's just that, well, Mum and Dad have always been worried about what's
going to become of me."

Explanations were probably unnecessary. But I wanted him to
understand.

"Years before I was born, my Mum and Dad knew someone who was a
Squib like me," I continued softly. "Gerrity. I don't know if that was
his first name or his last. He was a tramp who wandered about doing odd
jobs, sometimes even for Muggles. When he couldn't find work to do, he
would go begging. Gerrity froze to death, sleeping out of doors. It was
early spring. No one knew there'd be snow."

"Mum and Dad were so glad when I was given this chance. They don't
mention Gerrity much, but I know that they think about him. And when we
found out what I was..." my voice shook.

"They want to know that I'll always have a roof over my head and
enough to eat. I don't want to make them worry about me all over again,
just when they thought I was settled. Thank you for letting me stay,
sir. You won't be sorry!"

"Hmmph. I'd better not be," Pringle muttered, gruffly. He rubbed
at his eyes, then grimaced agin.

"I'm not a well man," he said, taking refuge in his familiar
refrain. "I won't be able to bear too many weeks like this one has been.
Give me your word. No more hurling slop-water at Poltergeists, eh?"

I gave him my word.

"A Poltergeist?" I asked, a moment later. "Is that what Peeves
is?"

"Yep." Pringle settled into the chair behind his desk. "Haven't
you ever met one before?"

I shook my head.

"This Castle has stood for nearly a thousand years," he said.
"Think on it. All those centuries of adolescent witch-brats and wizard-
brats with all their fears, their mischief, their uncontrolled powers
and their nasty little urges soaking into the walls!"

"That sort of thing leaves a foul residue. And, near as I can
figure, that loathsome little creature is the result. Hmmph! If anyone
wants proof that the brats are evil to the core, well, Peeves is it!"

"And, if it was up to me," the Caretaker went on, "I'd have Peeves
Exorcised, and good riddance! But the Headmaster says "he's always been
here," and that's the end of it."

Pringle waved me toward his office's other chair.

When I sat down, quite gingerly, the old man gave me a look that
was almost sympathetic.

"By rights, I ought to beat you for dumping that water on me," he
said. "But you didn't deserve the beating you got yesterday. We'll say
that your account is settled, for now."

His bushy, iron-grey eyebrows lowered threateningly. "Filch, so
help me, if you ever breathe a word to anyone that I let you off... I'll
hang you up by your thumbs."

"I won't tell," I said. "I promise."

"As far as everyone else in this Castle is concerned, I've just
thrashed you within an inch of your life. I've got a reputation to
uphold, I do."

"Yes, sir."

Pringle studied me for a few moments in silence. "I didn't want to
take you on," he said, gruffly. "I suppose I've made that much pretty
plain."

"Yes, sir," I said, softly.

"I thought you'd be completely useless. But you're not afraid to
work hard, I'll say that much."

"Thank you, sir."

"You don't have to keep calling me `Sir." I'm not a professor, am
I? Call me `Mr. Pringle.'"

"Yes, Mr. Pringle."

He frowned. "I won't lie to you. I have my doubts that you'll ever
be a proper caretaker. I don't see how you'll manage. There's a lot of
things that need doing in this Castle that you simply need magic for! I
still don't know what the Headmaster was thinking when he took you on.
Hogwarts is a grand place, Filch. Old and deep, full of secrets and
mysteries from the deepest dungeon to the tallest tower. But, make no
mistake, it's full of dangers, too. And it'll be worse for you, being
what you are. Keeping the brats safe and out of trouble is one of my
responsibilities. And now I've got to make sure that I keep you safe
too. Even if it kills me! And it probably will..."

His frown deepened.

"I never would have expected Peeves to choose you as a target.
Normally, he picks on the students and leaves the staff alone."

"Sir, what should I do about the Poltergeist?" I asked
plaintively.

"You? There isn't much you can do. I'll have a word with the
Baron. You do remember the Baron? I introduced you to him in the
dungeons, on your first day."

I nodded, shuddering.

"Peeves is terrified of him."

"How sensible of Peeves," I thought.

"I'll ask the Baron to keep an eye out for you. We can't have the
Poltergeist annoying the staff, can we?"

"No, sir. I mean, Mr. Pringle."

I smiled, tentatively and the old man gave me a grimace that
actually had smile-like overtones. Then, standing up and sliding his
wand out of his pocket, he sent a small wave of magic towards a kettle
on his desk.

"I'm going to go and have a bath now, Filch. You stay here and
have some tea."

"But, Mr. Pringle, what about the corridor upstairs? The bucket
and the dirty water I threw? I should go clean up the mess..."

Exasperated, Pringle glared at me. "Not now, Filch."

I was confused.

"Don't be so thick, boy!" The old man said, gruffly. "Consider my
reputation! You're indisposed at the moment. Remember, you've just been
beaten black and blue for the second time in two days. I'd wager there's
a whole corridor full of brats laying odds against your survival, even
as we speak!"

"Intimidation," he whispered, confidentially, leaning towards me.
"It's the best way I know of, to keep the brats in their proper place."

His voice deepened to a threatening growl. "But, if you're having
some difficulty in following my line of reasoning, then your new bruises
can always be genuine ones."

I shook my head, quickly.

*******

Apollyon Pringle went to take his bath. After a decent interval
which included time for a cup of tea, I crept slowly back up to the
corridor where I'd thrown the dirty bucket.

The corridors still had a few black-robed students hurrying to
class. I kept my head low and didn't meet anyone's eyes. The thought of
the young witches and wizards making bets on how bad my punishment had
been was humiliating.

I was scrubbing the floor when Browly appeared beside me. The
house-elf flung her arms tightly around my neck.

"Poor Argus Filch!"

"Ow! Browly, don't!"

The little creature let go immediately. "Apollyon Pringle is
beating you again?" Browly asked sadly.

I couldn't bear to lie to her. But I didn't dare break my promise
to the Caretaker either. How should I answer?

"It was nothing worse than I deserved," I said, after a moment.

"At least Mr. Pringle saw what Peeves was doing," I comforted her,
quickly. "And he heard and believed what you said about the Poltergeist.
He knows I didn't break or lose his things. And he said that he won't
send me away if I work hard and try to be good. Thank you for helping
me, Browly. Are you all right?"

The house-elf nodded.

"I was afraid that Peeves had hurt you with all those heavy
tools!" I said.

"Browly is fine," she said. "And armor is not needing fixed any
more."

"Thank you, Browly! You haven't seen Peeves anywhere about, have
you?" I asked.

She shook her head, solemnly. "The Baron," she said, in hushed
tones. "He is come to look for Peeves! Wicked Poltergeist is hiding. So,
Peeves is not bothering Browly or Argus Filch for a while."

I smiled.

"Is Argus Filch wanting Browly's help with this floor?"

I shook my head. "No, you have enough work to do, Browly. This is
my job!"





End of Chapter Two



Author's Notes:


Saint Fool: Thank you!! Pringle does have a nasty temper. Some of it is
bluster. (Not much, but some.)

Rabbit and -v-Jinx-v-: Thank you!! Pringle didn't suspect Peeves of
harassing Filch, because the Poltergeist rarely bothers the staff. (In
"Prisoner of Azkaban" Rowling mentions that Peeves usually respects the
teachers, at least.)

Apollyon Pringle voices my guess as to Peeves' nature in this chapter.
I've read that Poltergeists are supposedly manifested by the psychic
energies of adolescents who are under some sort of stress. A Castle
filled with young witches and wizards who are learning how to use their
magic is probably an excellent breeding ground for poltergeists. No
wonder Peeves is such a persistent nuisance.

I have a theory about Filch and Peeves. If Poltergeists are fed and
nurtured on psychic energy, then maybe Filch's untapped magic and his
energetic rages make him particularly "delicious" to Peeves. Which could
be why the Caretaker is Peeves' favorite target.

Filch's bitterness has a number of sources, but Pringle isn't really to
blame for too much of it. Pringle was a harsh old man, but he did care
for his apprentice, in his way. Filch is proud of having eventually
earned the old caretaker's trust, because it wasn't easy to do.

I grew up listening to my father and uncles happily trading "war-
stories" about how often they were beaten while they were growing up.
They would laugh about things that utterly horrified me. Having endured
so many harsh punishments seemed to be a point of pride with them. And
they adored my grandparents and wouldn't hear a word against them. I can
see Filch having that sort of attitude about Pringle.

Elektra: Thank you!! From the little that we know of Pringle, as he was
briefly described in "Goblet of Fire," he was a terror to the students.
But I chose to see him as protective of his apprentice, even if he
believed in physical punishment.

There's a third chapter, with Hagrid, in the works...

As for Minerva and Tom, Filch was being honest when he told Myrtle that
he rarely noticed the students as individuals when he first came to
Hogwarts. He was too busy learning how to take care of the Castle. Of
course, he probably did see both Minerva and Tom.

In Minerva's case, he would have noticed how pretty she was. (Then he
would have looked away nervously, and promptly tripped over his own feet
or walked into a wall.)

In Tom's case, Filch might have sensed something hurtful hanging like a
cloud around the handsome boy. But Filch would have been too
inexperienced to understand what his senses were telling him. Filch
didn't know that there was anything special about his senses when he was
young. Tom would have frightened him, but he never would have been able
to explain why.

Thank you for commenting on Chapter Twelve of "Squib Caretaker!! Wow,
you sure have a busy schedule!! I do have bits and pieces of ideas for
the Secret Chambers, and for the Alchemist's Door. (A lot of what I
write will depend on developments in Rowling's future books, since I try
to follow canon as close as I can, barring unforeseen circumstances.
There's always a chance that I've contradicted something important
already. In which case, I'll probably go on writing in an AU frame of
mind.)

Saphron: Thank you!! I figured that Filch and Peeves would have been at
odds very early on.

ahg: Thank you!!

emma: Thank you!!

Larania: Thank you!! In two of my earlier stories ("The Squib and the
Death Eaters" and "To Save a Squib") Filch got to use some magic. In the
latter story, he got to `borrow' Lucius Malfoy's powers. He had such
fun! I keep hoping that Filch will be the character that Rowling
mentioned, who will "learn to do magic quite late in life."

Jelsemium: Thank you!! And Howdy, pardner! Hopefully, I'll be able to
make Pringle a three-dimensional person. I see him as a failed wizard
who has low-magic levels and didn't do well on his tests. His attitude
towards the students is quite a lot like the one that Filch eventually
develops. But, he tries to be what he considers "fair" to his
apprentice. And he does do his best to look out for him.