Chapter 27: The Caretaker’s Secret
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 27: The Caretaker's Secret
Filch dragged Harry down staircases and through corridors.
Harry's heart hammered against his chest. He had imagined his first detention, but not like this...not being hauled like a criminal through the castle by this man.
'I'm done for,' Harry thought. 'I'm going to get expelled. Or worse....sent to re-education.'
He did not doubt that the Headmaster and the other professors were well aware that he had already lost one credit point even before arriving at Hogwarts, so he was in a precarious situation.
'Why am I so unlucky?...' he wondered. 'Am I really not going to even finish my first year of magical school?'
Finally, they reached a grim door on the ground floor, not far from the entrance hall. Filch fumbled with a heavy ring of keys, unlocked it with a screech of rusted metal, and shoved Harry inside without ceremony.
The room was small and cluttered, lit by a single smoky lantern that hung from a hook in the ceiling.
The walls were lined with cabinets, each drawer labelled with names and dates, penned with terrible handwriting.
A large oak desk stood in the centre, covered in stacks of parchment, dusty quills, and an ink bottle that looked as old as the castle itself.
In the corner, a small cast-iron stove glowed faintly, its heat barely reaching a few feet away.
But what caught Harry's attention were the manacles hanging from a peg on the wall. Rusted, with leather straps, they looked like something from a medieval dungeon.
'This is where he brings students to punish them,' Harry thought, his stomach was already churning with dread.
"Sit," Filch commanded, pointing to a wooden chair facing the desk.
Harry sat and tried to stop his legs from shaking.
Filch shuffled over to a door Harry hadn't noticed...a narrow, dark opening that led to what must have been a small kitchen or storage room.
The caretaker disappeared inside while muttering something to himself.
Harry glanced at the main door. It was closed, he was sure of it. He had heard the click of the lock after Filch closed it.
'There is no escape,' he thought. 'And even if I could run away from here...where would I go?. It's not like I can leave the castle by myself. I would be found, either by Hogwarts staff or by some wild beast.'
He considered his options and realized that none of them was good. He could try to reason with Filch, but the man seemed beyond reason.
He could beg, but that would only make him look weak, and Filch may enjoy that.
He could stay silent and hope for mercy...
'Mercy,' he thought bitterly. From Filch?. It sounded ridiculous to even think about it.
The minutes stretched, and Harry began to hear clinking, the clatter of a kettle, and the pouring of liquid.
'What is he doing?' He thought.
Then Filch emerged from the back room.
Harry blinked.
The caretaker's face had changed. The cruel smirk was gone. The twisted satisfaction had vanished. In its place was something Harry had never expected to see on Filch's face...a gentle, almost sad expression.
In his gnarled hands, Filch carried a smoking cup of tea. He walked to the desk, placed the cup in front of Harry.
He could not help but notice the caretaker's hands... they were covered in scars.
"Drink," Filch spoke in a soft voice after sitting down in front of him. "My chambers are always cold. I can't keep them warm, not properly. No magic, you see. And this old stove takes hours to heat the room."
Harry stared at the cup, then at Filch. "What… what is this?"
"Tea," Filch said. "Not poisoned, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not a monster, boy."
Harry did not drink. He was too confused to drink tea.
Filch sighed. He reached over and picked up his own cup, one that looked the same as the one before Harry, then...he took a long sip. "See? Safe."
Hesitantly, Harry wrapped his fingers around the warm cup. The heat seeped into his cold hands, and despite his anxiety, he felt a small measure of comfort.
"You're probably wondering why I'm not screaming at you," Filch said, setting down his cup. "Why I'm not handing you over to Professor Snape right now. Why I'm not demanding you lose credit points."
Harry nodded slowly.
Filch leaned back in his chair. The lantern light cast deep shadows on his wrinkled face, making him look older, more tired.
"Because, Mister Potter, everything you think you may know about me is wrong."
Filch was silent for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. Then he began to speak.
"I've been at Hogwarts for a very long time. Longer than most of the professors. I was here when Albus Dumbledore took over as Headmaster. I was here when the war started. And I've watched this place change from a school into something else over the past few decades."
"Something else?" Harry asked.
"You could call it a factory," Filch said bitterly. "A factory that takes children and stamps them into obedient little soldiers. Those who won't bend? They're broken. Or they disappear."
Harry's blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
Filch leaned forward. "The credit system, Mister Potter. It's not about discipline. It's about control. Every student starts with three points. Lose one, you get a warning. Lose two, you're watched. Lose all three, and you're sent to re-education."
"I already know that," Harry said. "Professor McGonagall explained it on the first day."
"Did she explain what re-education really is?" Filch's eyes glittered. "Did she tell you about the cells in the basement? About the potions that make you forget? About the wizards who come in and dig through your memories until they find the thoughts they don't like?"
Harry's mouth went dry. "No."
"Of course not." Filch spat the words. "They don't want you to know those things. They want you to be afraid. Fear keeps you in line. But I've seen it, Mister Potter. I've seen students taken down to those cells. Some of them come back...quiet, empty, like someone carved out their insides. Some of them never come back at all."
"You mean...they..." Harry couldn't bring himself to say what the caretaker was suggesting.
He knew things were not great in this twisted version of Magical Britain, but could they be that bad?.
Harry thought of Pansy's brother, Alistair. Of the ghost floating in the lake, and he thought about school, lying to Pansy about what truly happened to him.
"Is that what happened to Alistair Parkinson?" Harry asked.
Filch's eyes widened. For a moment, he looked almost impressed. "How do you know that name?"
"I've… heard some things. That he disappeared last year while exploring the Forbidden Forest."
The expression on Flich changed. He now looked...sad. "He was a good boy...Parkinson. He had detention with me a few times...help me clean around the castle. The boy was always getting in trouble with the teaching staff. Tried to warn him...tried to tell him to stop poking his nose around places he had no business being at. And then...one day, he vanished."
"What was he doing?"
Filch glanced at him. "He would ask too many questions and go into forbidden places like the corridor where I found you tonight. Take this as a lesson, boy. Do not go poking around this castle...this is a dangerous place, and I may not be there the next time to save your ass."
"Do you know what really happened to Parkinson?" Harry had to ask.
"No," Filch simply answered. "I do not know the details, but this is what happens to those that the Headmaster considers...dangerous. You see...mischievousness and rebellion can be corrected with punishment and education, but if you do something to get on the wrong side of Mister Dumbledore...you are done for."
Harry went pale. Now he was sure off...Pansy's brother was killed by someone from Hogwarts. His body was thrown into the lake, and they invented the story about him getting lost in the Forbidden Forest.
After all, many predators in that forest could easily make a body disappear, so they could use that as an excuse for having found no trace of him.
'What could he have discovered to deserve that fate?' Harry thought.
"Anyway..." Mister Filch said. "Finish your tea, and then go back to the dungeons. Make sure to be more careful next time."
"T-thanks." He saw genuine concern in the man's face, and it was mixed with a hint of guilt.
He felt like he was starting to understand Mister Filch a bit better now.
Beneath that harsh exterior was a kind man who worried about the students' well-being and was trying to prevent them from breaking the rules and being punished by the castle staff members.
To keep his job, he must maintain that 'evil janitor' persona because if the Headmaster knew what he was truly doing, he would likely get fired.
Suddenly, Harry felt something rubbing against his leg, "Huh?. "When he looked down, he found an ugly-looking cat with orange eyes staring at him.
"That's..." It was Mister Filch, a famous companion.
"Oh don't worry about her. Mrs. Norris is completely harmless." Filch said with a warm smile on his face as he looked at his cat. "She wouldn't hurt a fly, wouldn't you, Mrs. Norris?" He tapped his leg, and the cat quickly jumped on his lap.
Mister Filch began to gently brush his hand against her fur, and Harry could hear the cat purring.
'Can't judge a book by its cover here...' He reminded himself.
Both Mister Filch and his cat looked very scary, but the reality was something else entirely.
Harry watched them while finishing his tea. It tasted sweet now.
Mister Filch placed Mrs. Norris near the warmth of the stove and walked back.
"Now, Mister..."
"Potter."
"Yes, Mister Potter. I hope that you learn from this experience and don't repeat the same mistakes. And stay away from that corridor..."
"Do you know what's hidden there?" Harry knew he shouldn't ask too many questions, though he could not help but ask this, at least.
Because there was a good chance that whatever secret lived beyond that door got Pansy's brother killed.
Mister Filch shook his head. "All I know is that those are supposed to be the Headmaster's personal chambers and that no one is allowed in there, not even the professors."
"I see..." Harry muttered.
"Understand this, Mister Potter. Hogwarts is not just a school, at least not anymore." Filch said. "This is a testing ground. Over the course of seven years, every student is tested...for loyalty towards the Headmaster and the Ministry of Magic and for willingness to follow orders without questioning them. Those who pass the test can graduate and become loyal servants. They can get good jobs, good marriages, and live good lives. Those who fail..." He spread his hands. "They are sent to re-education where they have their will broken apart, they are expelled, or...they simply disappear."
"And the credit system is a tool to measure us...every time you break a rule, you come one step closer to re-education," Harry said.
"You are starting to understand." Mister Filch nodded.
"So what do I do?" Harry asked. "How do I survive in this place?"
Filch looked at him. "You keep your head down, you follow the rules when you're being watched. And you break them when you're not. You make friends you can trust. And you never, ever let them see what you're really thinking."
He then walked to the door and unlocked it with a click.
"Now go, there are only thirty minutes before curfew, so don't wander around and walk directly to your common room. " Filch said. "Tell your friends you were in the library and lost track of time. And if anyone asks, you were never here."
Harry stood up and looked at Filch...at the man who pretended to be a monster so he could save a few children from the real monsters.
"Thank you, Sir," Harry said.
Filch's face hardened back into its familiar scowl. "Get out of here before I change my mind, boy."
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