Filch's Story
Chapter 2: At the Edge of the Forbidden Forest
I gazed up at the castle with raw amazement. I had never seen anything like it in my entire life. I could tell I wasn't the only one who thought that. I could hear other first years muttering "whoa" and "extraordinary." With its looming towers and ancient arches, Hogwarts was pretty impressive.
The Great Hall was just as magnificent. There was this silly talking hat that would sort all the first years into houses: Gryffindor for the brave, Ravenclaw for the smart, Hufflepuff for the kind, and Slytherin for the ambitious. I was pulled aside by the Transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore, before I could go.
"You are not going to be in a dormitory, so you do not need to be sorted."
"Then where will I live?"
"There's a nice little hut at the edge of the, erm, forest. There's much more room there, anyways. And it's more convenient for your job as Gamekeeper. Now, go and watch your brother get sorted. We will discuss this more, later."
I ran to catch up with the rest of the first years. I arrived just in time to see the Sorting Hat shout "SLYTHERIN" from atop Liam's head. The kids sitting at the far table cheered. They seemed like a rambunctious group, perfect for my brother. I noticed something odd, though. There was a pale boy sitting at the head of the table. He looked only a few years older than me, maybe a third- or fourth-year. He wasn't cheering or clapping at all. He was facing forward with a blank look on his face, as if he was completely ignoring his surroundings. But his mouth was curled slightly, like he was amused at the others celebrating. He seriously creeped me out.
But Liam grinned like a maniac and sat down with a group other first year Slytherins. He immediately started chatting with some other first years like he'd known them his entire life, and then proceeded to ignore the remainder of the ceremony.
After the Sorting Ceremony, I asked Professor Dumbledore if I could sit with my brother, and he allowed me. I bolted toward the Slytherin table and plopped myself down next to Liam.
"Who's this?" asked the blonde boy sitting next to him.
"This is my twin brother, Argus. He's the new Game…something-or-other," Liam responded.
"Why isn't he a regular student?"
"Because he's special. He doesn't need magic."
"Do you mean he's a Squib? Because my father told me Squibs are bad, and I don't want one sitting next to me. I could get infected or something."
Liam's face turned bright red. "He's not a Squib!" he shouted, "He's really advanced at magic, and he could curse you so hard, you would be nothing but a sniveling pile of ashes." At this the pale boy turned around to look at Liam.
"Yeah," I said halfheartedly, trying to be part of the conversation.
"And who are you to say anything?" Liam went on, "You're probably half muggle!" He said it like being part muggle was the worst fate imaginable.
"Excuse me, but I have the purest blood here. Us Malfoys have blood so pure, it makes everyone else look like Mudbloods."
"Maybe you're just saying that because you're the Mudblood!" My brother was screaming at the top of his lungs by now, and was causing quite the commotion.
One of the teachers rushed over. "What is the meaning of this? We are at a feast, not in the middle of a bloody war zone!"
"Professor Slughorn," said the creepy kid, "the boys were just having a friendly argument." He smiled at the teacher.
"Of course, Tom," Slughorn replied. Anyone could see that the creepy guy – Tom – had this teacher wrapped around his finger. "There shouldn't be raised voices, though." And he sauntered back to the Head Table.
"Who was he?" I whispered to Liam.
"That's Professor Slughorn. He's the head of Slythrin, but he also teaches Potions."
"No not him, that creepy kid over there."
"Oh, that's Tom Riddle. He's really popular."
"I don't like him," I confessed.
"Nah, he's cool. It's Cyril Malfoy that you should watch out for."
"He's that blonde kid?" I asked.
"Yeah, and you shouldn't listen to him. A lot of these people hate Mudbloods. I guess it's just in their nature."
"Your friends probably don't like Squibs, either."
"I didn't mean it like that. They just don't understa-"
"I just remembered, I have to see Professor Dippet for training. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Hey, Argie-"
But I was already gone.
The hut was a long walk from the Great Hall, but I didn't care. I was so upset. How dare he defend them! I was his brother! I knew coming here was a mistake. I was just a worthless Squib. I was a joke. I stomped my foot down hard on the stair out of frustration. The problem was, the stair had vanished. My leg was stuck. I tried wiggling it, to no avail. Shame washed over me. I had been vanquished by a staircase. I thought things couldn't get any worse, but my luck decided to abandon me, as I spotted a figure coming towards me. I tried to look casual as he came closer. I realized it was a professor, instead of a student, and I let out a sigh of relief.
"My dear boy, you seem to be in a predicament," Professor Dumbledore said.
"Yeah, can you help me out?"
"Of course." And he pulled me out.
"You should probably fix that stair," I said, attempting to fill the awkward silence.
"You're not the first one to be fooled by that stair. Most students just remember to skip it."
"Oh, I'm not exactly a student. You see-"
"I know exactly who you are, Argus Filch."
"Well, can you tell me where I'm supposed to be going, then?"
"There is a hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest," he said, "I will accompany you there to avoid any other blunders."
"Yes, sir."
Dumbledore kept chatting the entire way there. I answered most of his questions with "yeah" or "I dunno," but one question was creeping at the back of my mind.
"Why am I here?" I asked out of the blue.
"You already know that your brother contacted Headmaster Dippet."
"Yeah, but why did he let me come? I'm not a wizard."
"You are here because I persuaded Professor Dippet. You may not be a wizard, but you are descended from wizards."
"But why?"
"I have my reasons," he replied mysteriously, "Ah, look. We're here."
The hut was in one word, old. There were cracks in the brickwork everywhere. I could see mold slinking up the side. It was covered in dirt. It smelled like my great aunt Freda.
"Home, sweet, home," Dumbledore chirped. I was seriously starting to question that man's sanity. "You will find your belongings already inside."
Hesitantly, I took a step inside.
And had a heart attack. "YOU DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT A GHOST!" I screamed and ran outside.
"I'm sure I mentioned your predecessor's state," Dumbledore said, and then he had the nerve to smile.
"B-but he's a freaking ghost!"
"Yes, he is," Dumbledore said calmly, "and he will be training you to be a Gamekeeper."
"Mr. Livingston, this is your new apprentice, Argus Filch. Argus, this is Chester Livingston."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Filch. I can see us becoming very close." The ghost stuck out a translucent, grey hand out, as if waiting for a handshake.
"Erm, hi." I "shook" the ghost's hand. It felt like plunging my fist into a bucket of ice water.
"Well," Dumbledore said, "it's best you get to bed. You have a long day tomorrow, Argus."
I didn't bother changing out of my clothes. I collapsed on the tiny bed, and was immediately pulled into a dream. Mr. Livingston was there, but when he spoke, it was in the voice of a snake.