days at Hogwarts

Chapter 787: Dialogue with Dumb Cannon
In the middle of the aisle of Filch's Trophy Room, he was hunched over, carefully wiping the glass cabinet door. When he heard Loren's question, his body stiffened slightly and he bent his back even lower.

In front of him were neatly arranged crystal display cases, which reflected the candlelight. Inside were displayed the honors won by previous students. The shield represented the best player on the Quidditch team, the gold cup represented the winner of the annual house cup, and there were also silver cups, badges, and framed photos...

In the dim light, a trophy for a special contribution award was being wiped. On it was written: "Gespard Singleton, Hufflepuff, 1970-1977."

He was a prefect of Hufflepuff that year. He excelled in Potions and Herbology but was not good at Transfiguration. He obtained seven certificates in NEWTs. After graduation, he invented the automatic stirring cauldron. For this reason, he was included in the textbooks of History of Magic during his lifetime and was recently featured in the "Wizard of the Month".

Administrator Filch looked at the name engraved on the base, and this information flashed through his mind.

Having been in this castle for nearly thirty years, he had wiped these prizes countless times during the past thirty years. He was actually more familiar with the awards these items represented and the names engraved on the bases of the prizes than some professors.

In the first few years after he came to Hogwarts to take over as the administrator, he couldn't help but fantasize when he was alone. If he also inherited his parents' magic power, if he also received an acceptance letter from Hogwarts at the age of 11, if he had his own wand and studied magic like those students, would Argus Filch's name also appear here?

But he was a real dud.

Since the last century, the Ministry of Magic has attached great importance to the problem of Squibs and encouraged them to integrate into Muggle society and live an ordinary and happy life. With the help of the Ministry of Magic, he also had a decent job in Muggle society when he was young. He went to work every morning and returned in the evening. He spent his free time on weekends mowing the lawn, cleaning the room, and occasionally going to the bar for a drink...

Easy and happy life, good income and bright future.

But such a life is dull and boring. The fireplace can only provide warmth, the pen is cold and hard, and everything is well-behaved. It will not suddenly disappear or appear, nor will it become lively and vivid words. It always abides by the so-called scientific laws of Muggles.

Filch was unbearable.

He knew there was such a magnificent and magical world, where the fireplace could lead to a village hundreds of miles away, where writing tools were soft, warm feather pens and parchment, where anything could float in the sky and be affected by summoning and disappearing spells, and even a blade of grass could turn into a wild bull and run rampant. But this world shut him out...

Whenever he thought about the world shutting him out, his heart felt as if it were being torn by the claws of thousands of cats at the same time, as if it were being whipped while hanging from the ceiling. The pain of not getting what he wanted tortured his soul every moment.

So he wrote to Dumbledore asking for a job to succeed Apollyon Pringle as the school's caretaker.

It seems that when you come to Hogwarts, you have entered that magical and magnificent world. Occasionally, when you pass by the corridor and pretend to hear the voices of the professors’ lectures, your twisted soul seems to be slightly comforted.

Almost all Squibs in the wizarding world made a similar choice.

Although Squibs are a minority group, their number is not rare. There are dozens of them in the UK. There is a Mrs. Figg in the Order of the Phoenix, a rugby player in the Scottish national team, a deliveryman in Diagon Alley, and Old Jim in the Hogsmeade bakery...

"..."

Filch remained silent, wiping the trophy by himself. His bony right hand clenched the towel tightly and rubbed the inscription on the base with force, his fingers looked a little pale from the force. Loren stood on the other side and wiped the trophy, his movements were neither hurried nor slow, neither perfunctory nor too serious.

"As a non-magical Squib, it must be difficult to be an administrator at Hogwarts."

Loren's tone was calm, not sounding concerned, nor did he have any sarcasm in his voice. "No student would seriously check the list of prohibited items updated every semester, because with a little disguise, the administrator would not be able to check the prohibited items at all. You can't tell whether the items sent from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes are perfume or love potions. When catching students wandering around at night, they will be fooled by the Disillusionment Charm and the Invisibility Cloak, and can only seek the help of Mrs. Norris. They will openly violate school rules in the corridor, just escape from your sight, and cast a few random spells to divert your pursuit. There are many similar things."

He turned his back to Filch and wiped the display case by himself. He said in a gentle tone: "Mr. Filch, what kind of belief has supported you to persist in the life of an administrator for thirty years?"

"You don't understand, you won't understand." Filch whispered softly, his voice hoarse, "You are blessed by luck, you can master that kind of magic in your ignorant childhood, and you will never be able to understand the pain of a Squib. Rather than pretending to be a Muggle and sinking in the ordinary world, I would rather struggle in the magic world."

"Because you have seen such a magnificent world, you can't stand being ordinary..."

Loren did not argue that he understood that feeling. He continued to wipe the display case and asked calmly, "What if you have never touched magic? You have been born in an ordinary family with ordinary parents. You have to clean the room yourself and cook food step by step instead of just waving a wand."

Mrs. Loris had sat on top of the crystal display case at some point, sitting upright and elegantly, with her tail circling in front of her plum blossom feet, staring at the two of them with her bright eyes.

"When you were young and ignorant, the new things you came into contact with were electric lights and telephones. You were also amazed to see cars driving on the road. There are scientific principles behind all these magical things. Although mastering this knowledge requires diligence and hard work, and perhaps also a smart mind... If you don't have it, it won't affect your rough understanding, but you just can't explore it in depth."

Loren paused for a moment: "Does this kind of background still make you miserable?"

Filch had stopped wiping and put the trophy back into the crystal display case with the glass door half open. He stared at the door in a daze, with his reflection in it.

After a long moment, Filch shook his head: "I don't know."

"..."

Loren did not continue to ask questions, and the entire showroom gradually became quiet.

Filch walked slowly to the next display case, opened the door, took out the prize and wiped it. The trophy with a metallic luster was a special contribution award issued by the school. There was no dust or scratches on it, and it was shiny and new. It had been put in some time ago.

His eyes subconsciously swept over the name engraved on the base, and he was stunned on the spot, and couldn't help turning his head to look at Loren.

"Loren Morgan, Gryffindor, 1991-1998"

(End of this chapter)