Chapter 223: Flowers
“Thank you, Professor.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong? You know, if anything comes up, you can always come to me.”
“No, it’s nothing serious,” Wade said with a faint sigh. “Mr. Filch just bought a few Cleaning Crabs from me to help with the cleaning. It was all a misunderstanding—Outcome was wrongly accused.”
Professor Flitwick finally relaxed after hearing the explanation. “I hope you’ll be more careful in the future,” he said, addressing Padma and the others. “Always practice calm observation before acting.”
“I’m sorry, Professor,” Padma murmured, her head bowed in embarrassment.
The chaos had settled. Students scrambled back to their dormitories, rearranging their belongings. When the girls spotted the original crab—its tiny body still gently puffing bubbles—they felt a rush of joy, as if they’d recovered something precious.
"Why’d you sell Cleaning Crabs to Filch?" Harry asked, puzzled. "No one likes him, and you don’t need the Galleons."
“Sure, it was satisfying to annoy him,” Michael countered, “but wouldn’t it be better to keep a good relationship with the caretaker? Think about it—you’re out past curfew, and instead of getting caught, Filch just ignores you.”
“Really?” Harry’s eyes lit up with hope.
“Liar!” Hermione snapped, smacking him gently with a book titled School Rules.
“Even if Filch ignored Wade,” she added, “he’d still catch you. You’re not invisible.”
Harry’s shoulders drooped in disappointment.
Wade just smiled and said nothing.
…
From then on, whenever students saw Filch, he was always trailed by a small procession of crabs—two to six in neat formation, marching like a battalion of tiny soldiers behind their commander.
When someone accidentally spilled mud or dirt on the floor, Filch no longer erupted in rage. Instead, he’d raise a hand, and the crabs would scuttle forward with a cheerful click-clack, swiftly sweeping the mess away.
If a student cracked a cauldron or accidentally crushed a slug, the caretaker no longer had to climb a ladder. The Cleaning Crabs were just as at home on the ceiling as they were on the floor—no extra effort, no added workload.
In the past, Filch dreaded rainy days, fearing endless hours of scrubbing. Now, he actually hoped for more rain, so he could stand by the window, letting the damp air brush his face, utterly content.
The change in the caretaker’s demeanor was so sudden that students felt uneasy. When they accidentally turned the Great Hall into a muddy mess and were met not with fury, but with a quiet, warm smile from Filch, the feeling was unnerving—almost eerie.
Some of the sloppier students suddenly straightened up, their habits changing overnight.
“Before, I thought nothing could be worse than Filch’s shouting,” one Gryffindor said solemnly to a friend. “Now I know I was wrong—worse is his smile.”
His friend nodded in agreement. “When he smiles at me, my skin gets goosebumps.”
…
The students’ whispers didn’t bother Filch. He strutted proudly through every corner of Hogwarts, showing off his crab squad. He watched with satisfaction as the halls and corridors gleamed, spotless and gleaming under the dim light.
Still, the Cleaning Crabs—being only half-finished prototypes—occasionally malfunctioned. And so Filch found himself returning to Wade for repairs.
Over time, the two grew genuinely acquainted. Filch even invited Wade into his hut, treating him like a guest—something that had never happened to even Dumbledore.
Filch’s office was dim and shadowed, lit only by a single oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, casting a warm, amber glow. Along the walls stood towering filing cabinets, said to contain over a thousand boxes of punishment records. No student had ever seen them all.
A wall was lined with shackles, hinges, and other grim iron tools. Under the flickering light, they glinted coldly. Just their presence was enough to unnerve even the bravest student.
Wade held an orange-yellow crab in his hands, turning it over gently.
“The magic rune circuit is worn, but it’s not serious,” he said, fixing it in under a minute. He set it down, and the crab immediately scuttled forward, cleaning up a few stray ink droplets with practiced precision.
The crabs carried a built-in Scourgify spell. Even after days of cleaning, they remained perfectly clean—untouched by dirt or grime.
Filch watched with genuine affection. “Thank you, Wade. Oma—my favorite—was hit by a spell from a student once. It just… stopped. I thought it was dead.”
He sniffed, clearly still touched by the memory.
Wade hesitated. “…Oma?”
“That’s her name,” Filch said proudly, gesturing to the others. “This one’s Red, Peg, Ruby, Stella, and Thomas.”
“Mrow,” Mrs. Norris purred, nudging Filch’s hand.
“Of course, of course,” Filch said, patting the cat’s back. “But she’s my most important.”
Wade paused, then asked carefully, “Mrs. Norris… she’s so thin. Is she sick?”
“Just old,” Filch said, cradling the cat. “We’re both getting on in years. Her appetite’s not what it used to be.”
“Mrrrow…” the cat mewed softly.
“Still, she’s sharp as ever. More capable than most humans,” Filch said, stroking her ears and chin. Then, as if remembering something, he looked up. “Oh—Wade, would you like some flowers?”
“…Flowers?”
“Yeah,” Filch said, setting the cat down on a chair. He stood and walked into the inner room—Wade guessed it was his bedroom.
Moments later, Filch returned, arms full of potted plants. Vibrant blooms—purple, crimson, gold, and pink—burst into full bloom, filling the cramped hut with color and fragrance, transforming it into something resembling a painting.
“I’ve been helping you fix the crabs so often,” Filch said, placing the pots on the table before Wade. “I didn’t have much to repay you. Recently, Professor Lockhart brought in a whole batch of flowers—supposedly as thanks for my help organizing. He let me keep a few.”
Wade accepted them without protest. “Thank you. I’ll put them in the Umbrella Room. Padma and Michael will love them.”
“Hmm…” Filch paused, his expression flickering slightly at the mention of the two names—names that had once been whispered about in reports from someone inside the school.
“Just… keep your friends away from running around outside the school,” he said carefully. “Especially the ones still under third year. There’s a rumor—two days ago, some people who looked like Dark Wizards were seen in Hogsmeade.”
Wade’s expression darkened. “When exactly?”
“Just a few days back… Friday or Saturday, I think. Someone inside the Three Broomsticks saw two suspicious figures. And a group of cloaked figures—very dangerous-looking.”
Filch strained to recall the fragments of conversation he’d overheard. At the time, he’d dismissed it as nothing to do with him.
“If you want to know more,” he added, “I can ask around.”
Wade studied him for a moment, then shook his head with a soft smile. “No need. If you get into trouble, that wouldn’t be good.”
He paused, then added, “Even if there are Dark Wizards out there, they can’t get into Hogwarts. I’ll make sure everyone stays put.”
Filch nodded vigorously. “Exactly. Follow the rules, and you’re safe. No danger. Hogwarts is protected—by Dumbledore. Even… even him—no one can harm you while he’s here.”
Filch didn’t like Dumbledore’s lenient approach to discipline, but he had never doubted the Headmaster’s power.
(End of Chapter)
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