Chapter 103: Filch

Wizard Sean didn’t know them; he guessed they were second-year wizards, but that didn’t stop him from dismantling each of the minor curses they’d cast.

With Mrs. Norris puffing out her breath and the Transfigured boar ready to pounce at his feet, the young wizards couldn’t advance or retreat.

Seeing their utter panic, Wizard Sean knew he’d made a strong impression, and silently stepped aside from the door.

The young wizards were overjoyed; one boy even stammered a promise he’d never return.

Wizard Sean nodded.

The scene inside the office was horrifying—a stench so foul it spread over five meters.

Mud was smeared across the walls, and the cabinets had somehow been overturned.

Mrs. Norris stopped puffing, rubbed her head against Wizard Sean’s cheek, and led him to a wall.

With a faint rumbling, a fireplace suddenly appeared.

It seemed hidden to prevent young wizards from vandalizing this essential fixture.

Still, it dispelled Wizard Sean’s chill.

Wizard Sean stroked Mrs. Norris’s fluffy head again.

【You earned the affection of the magical creature Catlyss (Mrs. Norris) at an expert level—Proficiency +50】

【Magical Creature Catlyss (Mrs. Norris): Not Affectionate (70/90)】

【Apprentice-level affection for a magical creature unlocks the Apprentice title in the Magical Creature field】

Hearing the system prompt, Wizard Sean raised his wand—but before he could utter a spell, a man with a thick plaid scarf wrapped around his head suddenly appeared.

Mr. Filch screamed in a frenzy:

“Damn filthy things!”

His eyes bulged terrifyingly, his double chin trembling.

“Filth everywhere! Everything in chaos! I’ll report this to the Headmaster—I swear I will!”

At that moment, Wizard Sean felt he might be misunderstood—but fortunately, Mr. Filch recognized his face and fell silent for a moment.

Mrs. Norris leapt onto his shoulder, and he finally stammered:

“Wizard Sean Green?”

“It’s me, Mr. Filch.”

“Ah, yes, I mean—thank you, Green…”

Wizard Sean nodded. Clearly, Mrs. Norris and Mr. Filch shared an unspoken bond; otherwise, he’d have been wrongly accused.

“Go on, Green—hurry along…”

His rage still burned as he chased after Mrs. Norris.

When he returned, Wizard Sean saw his twisted, bitter face.

For a moment, Wizard Sean felt he understood Filch’s harshness anew.

His job was caretaker of Hogwarts, responsible for keeping the ancient castle clean.

But consider: managing the chaos caused by a group of magical, energetic teenagers—Peeves’s pranks, the Weasley twins’ fireworks, students littering dungbombs—without magic, how crushing a task that must be.

His anger and bitterness were, in some way, byproducts of this “difficult job.”

But outside Hogwarts, where else would hire a Squib?

Wizard Sean thought silently, lowered his wand, and left Mr. Filch’s office.

Left alone, Mr. Filch stood frozen, staring at his now spotless office.

“Wizard Sean Green?”

Wizard Sean heard a voice behind him—he turned. It was Mr. Filch, chasing after him.

“Mr. Filch?”

The castle’s ground was always hard and cold; when the biting wind cut through the corridors and scraped Mr. Filch’s throat, all he saw was the young wizard’s brilliant green eyes.

“It’s raining outside—damp and windy. Dress warmer, Green.”

Mr. Filch’s lips trembled, and that was all he managed to say.

“There’ll be good weather soon.”

Wizard Sean heard himself say, smiling.

For a Squib who longed for magic, this cramped life didn’t end with reward for suffering, nor with operatic grandeur—it ended in death.

So Wizard Sean tried to be natural, expressionless; he knew, as a wizard, he couldn’t laugh too loudly—it would only awaken others’ pain.

Unconsciously, Wizard Sean had passed curfew—but Mr. Filch showed no intention to catch him; even Mrs. Norris merely purred, chewing on a dried fish.

“You saw it—the office, ah, the fireplace…”

Mr. Filch couldn’t bring himself to thank him; from the start, he’d had enough of those with magic.

He despised them, disliked them—he’d never gained a single benefit from magic.

Those wizards either looked down on him or ignored him; he’d rather be hated than pitied.

But today—he felt something new.

“Oh, I heard you learned another spell, Green?”

“Finite Incantatem, sir—it ends others’ spells.”

“Ah, good, very good…”

He muttered to himself and returned to his office.

Suddenly, he seemed to remember something, stepping out with a crumpled scarf in hand.

“I mean—the scarf—if…”

Wizard Sean, shivering in the night’s cold, accepted it with quiet delight:

“Thank you, Mr. Filch.”

“I mean—of course, you’re welcome.”

…

The weather grew worse, and Wizard Sean, naturally, grew colder.

Hogwarts uniforms came with woolen underlayers, but one sweater alone was far too thin for the biting wind.

In other words, Wizard Sean’s single layer was too thin, too old.

If he stood before a Mirror of Erised now, he’d see a thick, large woolen sweater.

So Wizard Sean relied more on the fireplace; sometimes Hermione wondered if he’d dropped something in it—why else was he always in front of it?

Staff lounge.

Before a hideous wardrobe crammed with teachers’ robes, Professor Flitwick smiled as Wizard Sean ran up from behind two talking stone gargoyles:

“Your Finite Incantatem seems well learned, Mr. Green.”

Professor Flitwick waved his wand—no incantation spoken—and a thick stream of water burst from its tip.

“Finite Incantatem!”

Wizard Sean swung his wand—the water vanished. Since he’d swiftly countered Seamus’s Aqua Eructo in class, the professor had begun these impromptu duels.

He’d grown used to the professor’s sudden spells; notably, they’d greatly improved his real-world spellcasting skill.

At least now, when the professor gestured, Wizard Sean could instantly recognize the spell and counter it with Finite Incantatem.

“Excellent, Mr. Green. But the Disillusionment Charm is difficult—are you certain you want to learn it?”

Professor Flitwick said in his high, thin voice.

One more chapter coming later