Chapter 189 - Detention with Filch (1/2)

Dinner was a rather tedious fiasco as Quyen Crowley and her posse taunted Rowan the entire meal. Severus and the others had tried to pry the truth from her, but Rowan had rather stubbornly ignored them. Either way, it was something of a feat itself to be the first student to receive detention on the first day and lose their house points in the same breath. Needless to say, the rest of Slytherin wasn't pleased and neither was Professor Slughorn.

After dinner, Rowan had ignored the rest of their questions directed at and made her way to detention. Knocking on the caretaker's door, Argus Filch's crankily says, ”Come in!”

Argus Flich's windowless office was lit by a single oil lamp dangling from the low ceiling. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls with filing labels of every punished miscreant. As Rowan pointedly ignored the highly polished collection of chains and manacles hanging behind Filch's desk.

Not yet quite the hunched man of the future nor rheumatic, Filch sits at his desk angrily filling out some sort of form with his quill. He does not look up from his work as he angrily finishes the report on a foolish four year that thought it would be funny to plug the fifth-year toilets. It wasn't as it turned out.

On his desk curled up was the skeletal gray cat with lamp-like eyes, Mrs. Norris. Gently reaching over to rub Mrs. Norris's face, Rowan says, ”I'm sorry for bothering you this evening, sir, but I've been given detention for three weeks straight by Professor Pollen.”

Argus Filch pauses to glance at the detention sheet and freezes. His sunken cheeks tighten as he turns his graying, thin head towards her. His nose not yet violet from the cold flares in surprise as he glances at her. ”It's only the first day of school, whatever did you do, Prince?!” Filch exclaimed.

”Professor Pollen had us facing boggart's,” Rowan quietly said. ”I did not care to participate in the lesson.”

Filch is silent for a moment before a trace of pity crosses his eyes. ”It is difficult to face one's fears in public,” Filch carefully said.

”There are some fears, Filch, that should never be shown,” Rowan said as she withdraws her hand from the purring Mrs. Norris. ”Was it a boy or a girl?”

Filch carefully studies Rowan for sincerity in her eyes, before replying, ”A boy. He was named after my brother.”

”Good,” Rowan said, before glancing about to the counter where the polish, rags, and brush that are kept. ”I best get started now.”