Grindelwald's Burden (Books 1-7)

19. The Deathday Party

"Six Harry. I told you I will not ride..." 

The rest of Y/n's sentence was drowned out by a high pitched mewling from somewhere near his ankles. He looked down and found himself gazing into a pair of lamp like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against students.

"You'd both better get out of here." said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood, he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place..."

"Right." said Harry as he and Y/n started backing away from the accusing stare of Mrs. Norris, but not quickly enough. Drawn to the spot by the mysterious power that seemed to connect him with his foul cat, Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to their right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rulebreaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

"Filth!" he shouted, his jowls aquiver, his eyes popping alarmingly as he pointed at the muddy puddle that had dripped from Y/n and Harry's Quidditch robes. "Mess and muck everywhere! I've had enough of it, I tell you! Follow me, Grindelwald! Potter!"

So Harry and Y/n waved a gloomy goodbye to Nearly Headless Nick and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints on the floor. Y/n had never been inside Filch's office before, it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls. From their labels, Y/n could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves which didn't surprise him. A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.

Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment. "Dung." he muttered furiously, "Great sizzling dragon bogies... frog brains... rat intestines... I've had enough of it... make an example... where's the forms... yes..."

He retrieved two large rolls of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot.

"Names... Harry Potter...Y/n Grindelwald...Crime..."

"It was only a bit of mud Mr Filch..." Y/n pointed out to Filch.

"It's only a bit of mud to you, boy, but to me it's an extra hour scrubbing!" shouted Filch, a drip shivering unpleasantly at the end of his bulbous nose. "Crime... befouling the castle... suggested sentence..."

Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Y/n and Harry who both waited with bated breath for his sentence to fall.

But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! on the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle. "PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"

And without a backward glance at either Y/n or Harry, Filch ran flat footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.

Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. Y/n didn't much like Peeves, but couldn't help feeling grateful for his timing for once. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from him and Harry.

"Should we go?" Harry asked.

"He will only chase us down later if we do." Y/n pointed out. "For now let us just go along with it and talk to Professor McGonagall if we have too."