InsaneJournal

Secrets of the Hogwarts Caretaker

“O Fiiiiilchy, there’s a dead boy in the third floor baaaaathroom.”

Startled from his cleaning of the chalkboard, he looked up. “Is he too big for me to lift?”

“He’s a small one, Filchy, should have no trouble. Better get up there before he turns all cold and rigid!” Peeves snorted into his hand.

Filch ignored this. “Did you check for a pulse, try to wake him?”

“That’s not my job, nasty old Squib man.”

So the boy might still be alive, then? Filch dropped what he was doing and headed down to the third floor after Peeves, entering the bathroom braced for a grisly murder scene.

“Look at him, all covered in blood. Slit his little wristies, he did!” This was apparently somehow hilarious. Filch scowled at Peeves for only a moment, accompanying the expression with a shake of his fist.

It was true, though. This didn’t appear to be murder at all. Bending down, he checked the neck for a pulse, able to breathe freely when he found one, however weak it was. He lifted the boy up and over his shoulder. He was a Slytherin 5th year, but he was indeed light enough to be carried. “Get some meat on his bones,” Filch muttered absently, barely realizing he was saying anything at all as he made his way up to the hospital wing on the next floor.

He ordered Peeves to tell the headmaster because he himself wasn’t about to leave the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey, currently the youngest staff member, found Argus and the boy to have the same blood type and he willingly gave himself up to her wand so that she could compensate for the boy’s loss.

And then Dumbledore came up to see the child, sent for by the poltergeist for not the first time in his career. “Good work, Argus, Poppy. And how does he look?”

“Not right in the head,” Filch answered. “Nearly killt himself.”

“Ah, but you rescued him, I am glad to say. You may leave, if you wish, Argus. Poppy can take it from here. Take the afternoon off.”

So the boy laid near him, on top of the covers.“I feel like . . . you know, trying it again. No one knows I do that except you and Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Filch didn’t say anything.

“I’d die if my classmates found out,” the boy added quietly.

“Would have died if no one at all found out, you careless sack of skin.”

The boy looked affronted. He immediately shot back with, “I just need someone to talk to.”

“Okay, so talk.”

“Do you know my name?” he asked. He hadn’t ever gotten a detention by way of Filch.

“The too-thin Slytherin 5th year with a desire to kill himself.”

“Right. Move over or I’ll fall off.” Filch moved over for the boy’s sake. No use in bloodying the stone all unintentional-like.

“What’s your name really?”

“Snape.”

“Snape?” It sounded like a mugglish name for such a little Slytherin.

“Yes. Now shut up.” He rolled over and shut his eyes.

“You tell me to talk, and I talk,” Argus muttered, turning the lamp off with a loud click.

“Is that so?” He turned to look at the boy who was sitting up next to him, staring at the far wall.

“Thank you. For not letting me die in there.”

“All in a day’s work.”

“Don’t remind me.” He rubbed at his temple. “They once flipped me upside-down and removed my underpants. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Well I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t be.”

“You know exactly what I meant.”

“Just giving you a hard time. You should really go to Madam Pomfrey, you know, fix you up proper. That’s more than I can do for you, and plenty more than you can do yourself.”

“Mediwitches come and go, but a Squib playing Hogwarts caretaker is forever.”

He rolled his brown eyes. “Funny.”

“I concede. It was admittedly lame.”

“Lame like you’re going to be without her help.”

“I’ve got to keep my Quirrel encounters a secret.”

“I think you just like it when we have secrets together. Doesn’t he, Mrs. Norris?” There was a meow of agreement as he bent and petted her fondly.