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What a mess

Summary:

Argus always wondered why Albus Dumbledore had ever hired him. He couldn’t do magic, he couldn’t stand children and more than anything else he hated mess.

Now here was some Dark Lord messing up the castle. He wouldn’t stand for this.

Notes:

Did you know Filch was only around 47 during the final battle of Hogwarts? According to potter lore, he was born in 1951. He only started working at Hogwarts after Molly Weasley left as she mentions the caretaker being Apollyon Pringle during her time.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“What is it my precious?” Mrs Norris curled her way around Filch’s legs, meowing indignantly. The castle appeared still around them. Filch followed Mrs Norris through the moonlight hallways, grumbling quietly to himself.

Ever since Snape had become headmaster and hired the Carrows, much of the fun that came from lurking around corridors at night had vanished. There was no point in frightening children when they were already so scared.

Even worse, the new staff did not hesitate to use corporal punishment. Filch’s threats to hang students by their ankles didn’t seem to even phase the students, not with the Cruciatus curse used more for discipline than writing lines nowadays.

“Students out of bed, huh, my sweet?” Filch rounded a corner. Through the flickering torch light, he saw an older teenager dressed in muggle clothes. He froze as Filch approached.

“Just my luck,” the teen mumbled to himself as he raised his eyes to meet Filch’s. It was Harry Potter.

***

Harry was so close. The room of requirement was just around the corner. Where was Peeves when you needed him?

“Look who we have here.” Filch crossed his arms, unimpressed.

“I’m hardly the only student out of bed.” Harry snapped impatiently, “In case you missed it, Voldemort is coming .”

Filch scowled. “At four in the morning. Curfew doesn’t end until 6:00.”

“I don’t think Voldemort cares about curfew.” Filch’s scowl deepened.

“And your excuse?”

Harry sighed, pinching his nose. It was so close. “I felt like a morning stroll.” He gripped his wand tightly. Filch did not move. He only raised his eyebrows, unimpressed. Harry snapped.

“Get out of my way. If you want someone to shackle to your dungeon wall, go find Voldemort. I’m sure he has no intention of cleaning up after himself once he rips the castle apart.”

In the distance, there was a rising hum of young voices. Filch stared past Harry and grunted. With a final glare at Harry, he shuffled past him toward the noise.

Harry could have sworn he heard him mutter “bloody Voldemort” as he disappeared down the corridor.

***

This was just what Filch needed. Why had he ever taken this job? If he had to scrape frog brains off a dungeon ceiling one more time, he might just scream and now some dark lord thought he could saunter into the castle and destroy all his hard work. Typical wizards.

Filch reached the great hall and found it crowded with half dressed, bleary eyed students. They sat huddled together at their house tables as if they could protect each other from what was coming. Filch saw eleven year olds whose feet couldn’t each reach the floor with eyes round and confused. Many of the students were glaring at the Slytherin table. Some of the Slytherins glared back, some only shrunk into themselves.

McGonagall stood at the staff table, her voice raised. “I repeat, if you are of age, that is seventeen or older, you may stay but everyone else will be escorted out. No exceptions.”

Filch turned his glare on McGonagall. Seventeen. These kids were tiny. Many of them seventeen year olds still had baby faces. Just another reason why he hated wizards.

Flitwick was already leading most of the Ravenclaw table out and towards the come and go room. A smaller group of Griffindores followed them. Filch watched two young boys at the edge of the crowd, Collin and Dennis Creevy. They were watching the prefect herding then intently. Filch groaned and followed them.

When the prefect’s focus shifted to a crying first year, Dennis and Collin made a break for it down a deserted corridor. Filch stepped out from the shadows and grabbed them by their cloaks.

“Get off.” Collin squeaked, arms flailing widely.

Filch dragged them down the corridor. He turned to a tapestry of two women hunched over a crystal ball and pulled it aside to reveal a blank brick wall. With practised ease, he knocked twice, waited then knocked twice again. The bricks shifted to reveal a long, unlit passage. Take that Weasley twins, bet you never found this one.

“Go on,” Filch pushed the brothers forward. “Light your wands.”

“We’re not running away,” Dennis pouted and crossed his arms.

“Yeah we can fight. If you send us away, we’re just going to come back.” Collin added stubbornly.

“This wall is spelled so that it can only be opened by the last person that used it. No one else can come in or out until it resets at the first of each month.”

Dennis and Collin furrowed their brows, glancing at the wall and back to Filch.

“We’ll just come back through the room of requirement in the Hogs Head.”

“Will you now?” Filch pushed both boys into the passage. He closed it with four thuds against the wall and watched with satisfaction as the bricks reformed in front of the glaring teenagers. That ought to keep them out of trouble for a while. Not even a misfired bombarda could break through that wall.

Honestly, they were only sixteen and fifteen. Good luck dying in this stupid war when the passage was a dead end. He would just need to remember to let them out once this nonsense was over.

Filch had the horrible feeling things were about to get messy. His office was two corridors down. There was something he ought to collect.

***

It was unnerving how fast the world could go from quiet to chaos. Streams of red and green light were firing everywhere. The still night air split with the sounds of destruction and pain. Harry, Ron and Hermione ducked through the corridors, occasionally firing off spells at death eaters or casting shields around other students. They ran towards a group of familiar red heads.

“Hello Minister,” Percy yelled, shooting a carefully aimed stunner at Thicknesse. “Did I mention I’m resigning?”

“You’re joking Perce,” shouted Fred gleefully, “you’re actually joking. I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since…”

The world exploded around them.

Harry coughed through the brick and dust that filled the air, desperately squinting through it to where Percy and Fred had just been. There on the ground he could see a body, blood slowly expanding out from beneath it. “Please, please, don’t be them,” Harry thought. He crept closer, chest clenched tightly restricting any air from leaving.

“Nice one,” Fred’s voice split through Harry’s panic. Fred and Percy were both still standing a few metres from the body, dusting off their cloaks. “George is never going to believe me.”

Harry followed Fred’s gaze and saw Filch glowering grumpily at all of them, a pistol clutched in his hand. It was pointed at the spot where Thicknesse had just been standing.

“Get a move on,” Filch lowered the gun and glared at the rubble around them.

Fred grinned. “Right you are.” Harry, Ron and Hermione could only watch in stunned silence as Fred and Percy started to hurry in the direction of more death eaters.

“Weasley,” Filch called after them and Fred paused.
“Tell George I expect both of you back at the end of the battle. I’m not letting you leave without cleaning this up.”

“Aww,” Fred said, “who knew you cared so much.” With that, both Weasley disappeared into a new crowd of cloaks and multicoloured light.

“Uh the snake,” Hermione cleared her throat breaking the silence, “we need to find Nagini.”

“Right,” Ron muttered still staring at where Fred and Percy had gone.

“Yes the snake. Uh, this way I guess.” Harry led the other down another corridor sparing one last glance at Filch.

He glared back at them.

***

Filch roamed the corridors with a growing head ache. That was three more under age students he’d seen fighting, one only a fourteen year old Hufflepuff. He’d shoved them all in the hidden corridor with Dennis and Collin.

What could they do against a fully grown wizard? Prick them with a transfigured match stick?

Why were there no fire extinguishers in this place? Wizards always assumed they could solve everything with magic. He’d found a few buckets in a cleaning closet to douse students or furniture that had got a bit too close to an incendium spell.

He saw another death eater up ahead, wand hand drawn and pointing at a heavily scared man that looked somewhat familiar and a woman with bubble gum pink hair. They appeared unarmed.

He scanned the ground and saw two wands that had fallen close to his scuffed boots. The death eater had not noticed him, too busy taunting the pair.

Merlin. Just like wizards to never get to the point. Filch raised one of his buckets and in one fluid motion poured the icy water on the death eaters head. He spluttered, rearing back and wildly twisting himself around to see his attacker. Filch scooped up the wands and thrust them at the unarmed couple.

Reacting instinctively, they caught them and the woman fired a quick spell at the death eater’s exposed back. The man crumpled to the ground. Honestly. Pathetic.

He turned around before either witch or wizard could say anything. His head ached dully. Perhaps he needed some fresh air.

***

Severus Snape knew he was dying. He couldn’t even find the strength to look up and see Lilly’s eyes one last time, full of grief and pity. He had loved that girl. Now her son was going to die with nothing but Snape’s memories and blind loyalty to Dumbledore to guide him.

If there was any kind of life after death, Snape hoped he would see Lily. Even better, he wished he could do it all again. Perhaps he could become someone Lily would be proud of not just the sullen husk of bitterness he was now.

There was a shuffle of movement somewhere near him. Had Potter returned or perhaps the Dark Lord wanted to finish the job?

“You’re getting blood on the floor.” Snape’s eyes snapped open. The pain seemed to disappear as all he could think was “what?”. There in the shrieking shack was the hunched form of Argus Filch.

“They’ve…been…through…worse.” Snape panted.

Filch crept closer, shucking off his jacket and pressing it against the wound in Snape’s side.

“I thought I saw Potter and his gang sneak in here. Who knows what they get up to when unsupervised.” Snape’s laugh turned into a cough and he tasted copper on his teeth.

“They…left.”

Filch humphed. “You can’t stay here. There are students who need more than an episkey and some Panadol.” He placed his hands under Snape’s armpits and heaved him into a standing position. All his occulmency couldn’t stop Snape from whimpering as his injuries were jostled. Filch glared at him.

“Keep pressure on it.”

“The…venom…will…kill…me…before…the…blood…loss.”

“Go eat a bezoar then.”

Filch pulled Snape through the passage, ignoring all his protests. So much for dying in peace.

“Wood.” They emerged from the whomping willow and Filch called a student over.

“Do you need help carrying him or finishing him off?”

“Five…points…from…Griffindore.” Snape scowled. Another set of arms looped around his shoulders and he was pulled towards the castle. “Sorry Lilly” Snape thought, “guess I’m going to have to wait a little longer to join you.”

***

“Harry Potter is dead.” Voldemorts cold voice echoed amidst the castle’s ruins. Filch stared at Potter’s limp body in Hagrid’s arms, his head lolling uselessly, his eyes closed. “I killed him as he was trying to run away.”

“He beat you,” the youngest Weasley yelled and chaos erupted as the remaining students joined him, shouting and screaming at the death eaters.

Mrs Norris butted her head against Filch’s boot. He stroked her fur, concentrating on her body warmth and not the blood soaked rubble around him.

A student broke free from the crowd. He stood firm against Voldemort even as the sorting hat was dropped onto his head and set on fire. See this is why they needed more fire extinguishers.

Instead of burning, however, the boy drew a sword from somewhere and swung it at Voldemorts snake because of course he did. Wizards and their flare for the dramatic. Blood sprayed in a wide arch, the snake’s head rolling over and over again until it stopped at the dark lord’s feet.

Sound exploded once more around them, people raising their wands and charging forwards. In all the mayhem, no one else noticed Harry Potter disappearing.

***

Merlin this was taking forever. Potter and Voldemort had been circling each other for the last five minutes.

“It matters not,” Voldemort was still shrieking, “I killed Severus three hours ago.”

Well…

Voldemort had a serious problem with follow through. How he’d become the greatest lord was anyone’s guess. He could have just chucked baby Harry out the window but no, magic was always superior.

“Try for some remorse Riddle.” They were still talking? Screw this. Filch was not going to let any other pesky, annoying children die because someone was too busy monologging.

He watched Voldemort circle closer to him. Everyone’s eyes were on those two. No one spared a glance at the caretaker.

***

Harry gripped his wand tightly. “Yes I dare,” he tried to keep the quiver from his voice. He wasn’t scared anymore. Voldemort was just as mortal as he was. “Aren’t you listening Snape never defeated Dumbledore?”

Green eyes did not move from red. He would not let those eyes haunt him any longer. It did not matter if he died here, Voldemort would come down with him. “The true owner of the elder wand is…”

BANG

Voldemort collapsed. A fine red mist was all that remained of where his head had just been. No one spoke. Every single eye in the great hall turned as one from Harry to Voldemorts body to Argus Filch with his gun raised.

Filch strolled forward and nudged the lifeless bundle of robes and pale skin with his foot.

“Huh,” was all Harry could say

“I always knew Professor Tralawney was an old fraud.” Hermione said, emerging from the crowd.

“Right.” Harry stared at his greatest enemy.

“Glad you’re not dead,” Ron joined them, weaving his fingers through Hermione’s. Ron’s words seemed to have unfrozen something in the crowd who all piled forward with him. The air became filled with cheers and sobs. They swept each others into hugs and cried on each other’s shoulders. Remus and Tonks approached the body, reducing it to ashes with a quick incendium.

It was over at last.

Harry shook his head numbly. This was not how he thought it would go.

***

Filch snuck away from the crowds. There was much to do. Voldemort really had left a mess. He grabbed a broom from a spare closet. No one stopped him, no one even seemed to notice him. It was as it should be.

He had work to do.

Oh and he should probably let those children out of the walls.

Notes:

19 years later

“What if I am put in Slytherine?” Harry crouched down and put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Son you were named after two of the bravest men I ever knew and one of them was a Slytherine. But if it really matters to you, the hat takes your choice into account.”

“Really thanks dad.”

“No problem Argus Severus Potter.”