Chapter 114

Saturday night was unusually noisy.

This was because the wizards returning from Hogsmeade still carried the lingering excitement of their outing.

Whenever this happened, Mr. Filch would be extremely busy, constantly on guard against mischievous students—especially those two audacious red-haired wizards.

These two wizards had made him despise all red-haired wizards.

As Mr. Filch finished his day’s work and was about to return to his dimly lit caretaker’s office, Wizard Sean Green passed by after brewing a batch of [Skilled] Swelling Potion.

Above the potions in his notebook, he had written down his recent progress in charms.

The Whispering Charm had reached [Skilled], and Finite Incantatem had reached [Expert]; now Wizard Sean could end Justin’s Levitation Charm with a mere gesture, without uttering a word.

Professor Flitwick had used minor curses to train him in practical application, and every single one had been neutralized by him.

So the professor cast some weak poison curses, which Wizard Sean barely managed to block. But if he spoke the incantation, his Finite Incantatem could block nearly all poison curses—even weaker hexes could not break through Wizard Sean’s defenses.

He could now say that no first-year student could breach his defenses.

Combined with his Transfiguration and charm-combination techniques, he could easily outmatch lower-year students without turning a single step.

But against upper-year wizards, the outcome was far less certain.

So Wizard Sean had never stopped advancing; once the Whispering Charm reached [Expert], he would unlock a new charm title and enhance his charm talent.

And by further refining his charm combinations, he would strengthen his combat power.

The corridor was eerily quiet; Wizard Sean once again saw no Mrs. Norris.

Senior Bruce had arranged a time with Wizard Sean, two hours later than most returning wizards.

Senior Bruce explained: “It’s a two-hour race against time.”

Senior Leon had already turned to head back to Hogwarts the moment Bruce began speaking—as if Bruce were about to sprinkle itching powder into the owner of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’ hat—until Bruce dragged him off with a grunt.

Still some time before their meeting, Wizard Sean heard cheerful laughter again coming from the caretaker’s office.

He sighed faintly—no student ever stopped hating Mr. Filch, but there were always students who hated him.

After cleaning the office, Wizard Sean neatly tucked away his wand.

Thanks to the widespread use of the Cleaning Charm, his own Cleaning Charm had reached [Skilled]; soon, he imagined, he would be able to sweep his wand and leave the floor spotless, just like the professors.

Looking at the wooden cabinet that had collapsed once again, Wizard Sean cast the Repair Charm he had just learned:

“Reparo! (Restore!)”

The wooden cabinet reversed time itself—cracks sealed from top to bottom, wood shavings flew back into place.

A magical sight…

Wizard Sean’s lips curled upward; he always thrilled at magic.

Silently leaving the office, Wizard Sean heard a loud meow. He crouched down, waiting for Mrs. Norris to leap onto him.

Whether because Wizard Sean always helped Mr. Filch clean the office, easing Mrs. Norris’s worries; or because Justin’s dried fish were nutritionally rich…

Either way, Mrs. Norris had grown fatter; when she walked across his shoulders, Wizard Sean clearly felt her weight had increased.

【You gained the affection of the magical creature Catliz (Mrs. Norris) at Skilled level. Proficiency +10】

【Magical Creature Catliz (Mrs. Norris): Not Affectionate (80/90)】

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

He was just one step away from unlocking his Magical Creatures talent; silently, Wizard Sean pulled out a new batch of dried fish Justin had made—apple-flavored…

One could only say magic was too all-encompassing.

As Mrs. Norris purred, Mr. Filch’s usually grim face relaxed for a long while beneath the oil lamp in his office.

He gazed long down the corridor, unable to take even a single step into the shadows.

He held in his hands a scarf he had carefully chosen; Mrs. Norris had been purring for quite some time.

Ah, but he was a Squib. And Squibs were exceedingly rare—and faced severe discrimination in the magical world.

Pure-blood families often disowned them (like Marius Black); the Ministry of Magic did not even record their births.

Like their name suggested, they were fireworks that could only sputter “pop,” and in common speech, they meant insignificant.

Most Squibs spent their lives in obscurity and poverty, lingering at the fringes of magic.

So their anger came from deep within—because their voices would never be heard.

Except… Headmaster Dumbledore.

He generously gave this man who longed for magic a trivial position.

So Filch cherished it deeply; he despised misbehaving students who broke rules, who caused chaos and made him anxious, constantly fearing dismissal;

Those students, they had the ability to cast magic, yet spent their days playing recklessly, breaking rules, unaware of how much those without magic envied them.

Except… Green.

…

Wizard Sean stroked Mrs. Norris’s head; time until Senior Bruce’s return was drawing near. He set her down gently.

Then he walked toward the Great Hall.

Mr. Filch watched him walk farther away, then returned the scarf to the wardrobe.

He had a new sweater now… that was enough.

The hidden gaze faded gradually; perhaps some things were better left buried deep within.

Too many lonely people in the world feared taking the first step.

So when Wizard Sean appeared before Filch with the biting doorknob, Filch’s expression turned terrified—as if he had seen a troll.

“Mr. Filch, this is something I asked a Hufflepuff senior to help me buy.”

Wizard Sean mounted it on the caretaker’s office door, cast a Disillusionment Charm on the original doorknob, and handed Filch a pair of bite-proof gloves.

Now, no mischievous student could sneak in to cause trouble.

Filch stared blankly at the student—watched him fiddle around, then clap his hands in satisfaction, nod politely to him, and leave.

Even now, Filch had not fully processed what had happened.

Wizard Sean thought it was a simple gesture; the low-grade biting doorknob posed little danger, at most causing students brief pain.

That way, students wouldn’t lose house points, and Mr. Filch wouldn’t have to clean his office so often.

The cold wind still howled.

At the entrance to the caretaker’s office, Filch held a brand-new scarf, his outstretched hand never quite touching it.