"I'm really sorry, Mr. Filch."
Sean said softly, his voice sincere.
Unlike other young wizards who despised or resented Mr. Filch, Sean didn't feel that way about the caretaker. To him, Filch's behavior was understandable.
Just like he didn't think Professor Snape should be blamed for this mess—Sean could only blame himself for not progressing fast enough. Otherwise, he wouldn't be stuck in this situation now.
Still, Sean felt a pang of disappointment. After nearly a month of effort, failing at the final step didn't feel great.
He watched as Filch, after a moment of stunned silence, stormed off to write his report with a scowl.
That sparked a tiny glimmer of hope in Sean.
Everyone knew Hogwarts' rules were enforced with some flexibility. Take sneaking out at night, for example.
Professor McGonagall could be harsh in serious cases—deducting points and assigning detention, like when Harry, Ron, and Hermione tricked Neville and Malfoy into wandering at night (or so she thought at the time).
Back then, she towered over the three of them, and Harry swore she looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert ever did.
But normally, she wouldn't lock students up in detention.
As for Professor Flitwick, Sean figured if he explained himself properly, the Charms professor wouldn't give him detention either.
And don't even get him started on Professor Sprout. Even when Hufflepuffs got into fights, she'd just give them a stern talking-to, then sneak them a box of coconut ice cream. That head of house was like a warm ray of sunshine in winter.
So, as long as this didn't get reported to Professor Snape, Sean wouldn't end up stuck in some "potion practice" detention with the Potions Master.
After all, Snape had been pretty unhappy with his recent "slacking"...
Wait a second!
A sudden suspicion hit Sean. This whole forced night-wandering thing—could it be part of Snape's plan?
He remembered Snape and Filch were on decent terms. In the books, Filch had been the one to treat Snape's bite wound.
Could he... have been set up by the professor?
What Sean didn't know was that this was a trap within a trap.
Verifying it would be simple enough—just see who Filch was reporting to.
As Sean stood there, uneasy, a loud crash came from the office ceiling, rattling the oil lamps.
"Peeves!"
Filch roared, throwing down his quill in a fury.
"I'm not letting you get away this time!"
Seizing the moment, Sean hurried over to peek at the half-filled form.
There, in big letters, was a single "S." Sean let out a quiet sigh.
But something else caught his eye on the desk: a bulky purple envelope with silver lettering.
Sean could only think about the odds of being stuck practicing charms in the dungeons. He sighed again, longer this time.
Just then, a cold breeze swept through the window, nearly blowing the letter away. Sean grabbed it quickly. The purple envelope had bold words printed on it:
[Invitation to the Quick-Spell Correspondence Course]
Sean had a pretty good guess what this was. His green eyes lit up.
He remembered from the books—Harry had found this exact letter, and Filch let him go.
Who knew Filch was already looking at it this early...
As Sean stood there, lost in thought, a sleek figure darted into the room and gracefully leaped onto the wooden desk.
It was Mrs. Norris. With one swipe of her paw, she tore open the letter:
[Feeling like you can't keep up with the modern wizarding world?
Finding excuses to avoid performing simple spells?
Have you been mocked for your clumsy wandwork?
The solution is here! Quick-Spell is a foolproof, fast-acting, easy-to-learn course.
Hundreds of witches and wizards have benefited from Quick-Spell!
Mrs. Annoying of Topsham writes:
"I could never remember spells, and my potions were the laughingstock of my family! Now, after one Quick-Spell course, I'm the star of every party, and my friends are begging for my Shimmering Potion recipe!"
Mr. Mischief-Maker of Ditchbury says:
"My wife used to mock my shoddy spellwork, but after a month in your amazing Quick-Spell class, I turned her into a yak! Thank you, Quick-Spell!"]
Mrs. Norris's tail swept over the letter as she let out a "meow" at the wall.
Sean instantly got what the clever cat was hinting at.
"*Scourgify!* (Cleanse anew!)"
With a wave of his wand, a patch of grime vanished from the wall. His wand tip kept flashing, and one by one, the stains disappeared.
At the same time, Sean thoughtfully used the *Levitation Charm* to tidy up the messy room, stacking some toppled furniture neatly.
When it was all done, Sean was panting again.
Mrs. Norris hopped onto his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek affectionately with her head.
Under the dim glow of the oil lamp, the boy and the cat leaned gently against each other.
"That racket upstairs was your doing, wasn't it, Mrs. Norris... Nice teamwork."
Sean's cheek felt a little ticklish as Mrs. Norris's tail flicked up.
"Purr—"
[You've earned the affection of the magical creature Mrs. Norris at a skilled level. Proficiency +10]
…
"Have you—did you see—?"
Filch stammered, seeing the scene in the room. Another gust of wind blew through, and the flimsy letter landed back in Sean's hands.
Sean and Filch locked eyes in a silent stare.
Filch immediately twisted his knobby hands together.
"Oh... it's not, I mean, it's not mine... I was holding it for a friend... anyway..."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look, but I won't say a word, sir."
Sean's words were firm and clear.
"Good, good... that's fine, off you go, off you go..."
Filch seemed drained of all energy. He stared blankly at the spotless room, standing by his desk.
"An accident, an accident... you think we can trust him, don't you, my dear?"
Mrs. Norris sidled up to Filch, resting against his shoulder, her eyes glinting with a human-like nod of agreement.
…
The night grew deeper.
In the shadows of the corridor, a low conversation drifted.
"Ah, a person's background doesn't matter—what matters is who they become.
And what shapes who we become isn't our abilities, but our choices—"
The old wizard with a long white beard smiled kindly, his deep blue eyes twinkling with wisdom.
"Anger is the easiest choice, but that boy didn't take it, did he?"
"You really think... this is fair, Dumbledore?"
Professor McGonagall's voice was icy as she turned and walked away.
"To truly know someone, you look at how they treat those beneath them... Forgive me, Minerva."
Dumbledore's figure faded into the darkness.
In the Ravenclaw dorm,
Sean was flipping through *Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7*, reading about silent casting. He'd had a small epiphany about it.
So, he decided to ask Professor Flitwick about it tomorrow after Transfiguration.
He didn't notice the two pairs of eyes watching from the shadows of the corridor that night.