Argus and I policed the grounds behind the castle, he shuffling around and grumbling as usual, me wrinkling up my nose, holding tongs, picking up the butts of cigarettes. Argus never could stand this work, even when I was a first year, getting into fights in the corridors and staying out late. Sprout always seemed to hate me, too.
I’m Trunch Folgate, prob’ly last place in Hufflepuff house, year six. Bleeds to make your uncle-amos.
Me and Argus’ve somehow become mates. Just got used to me, I figure—I’m always in detention and folk toss me in with the janitor. I’ve learned that if I treat that damn cat well, Filch takes it easy on me, and we sort of chat. First year, I chucked some scourby dung into his salads (he gives one to Mrs Norris) but he finally forgave me when I did a Renew spell on the catnip. I was the first student he ever willingly told about ’bout him being a Squib and all.
He may not do magic but he knows all about sorcery and gives me hints.
Ask me sometime about the flying doodlebugs.