With a sharp cry, Mrs. Norris leapt out of Filch's arms and darted away into the depths of the castle corridors, disappearing into the shadows with surprising speed.
Startled, Argus Filch stared after her for a moment but made no move to follow. Instead, he turned his attention back to Cedric with a surprisingly soft and apologetic look in his eyes—an expression rarely seen on the notoriously cranky caretaker's face.
"I saw you coming back from Hagrid's," Filch said slowly, his voice carrying a hint of awkwardness as he forced a crooked smile. "But… something seemed to be bothering you. Are you troubled by something?"
"Troubled?" Cedric blinked, then understood.
Ah. So Filch must have seen the expression on his face earlier—the frown when he had been checking his wish list. That meant Filch had been watching him for a while, perhaps even waiting for him to return?
Could it be… he had waited for me on purpose?
Cedric studied Filch, who was still trying to maintain a smile despite the nervous tension in his body. Suddenly, Cedric understood something important. Over the past few days, he had treated Filch as an equal—not with pity, not with disdain, but with a kind of quiet respect. That seemingly simple gesture must have meant a lot to someone like Filch, who was often overlooked and belittled in the castle.
And thinking back to how deeply Hagrid had been moved by a similar gesture of kindness… Cedric decided to change what he had originally planned to say.
"Yes," he nodded with conviction, "I did run into a little problem today."
"Shall we walk and talk, Mr. Filch?" Cedric suggested warmly.
Filch blinked, caught off guard by the invitation. "O-Okay," he said, and the two began strolling side by side down the dim corridor toward the Great Hall.
"We had a lot of fun practicing magic earlier today," Cedric began, "but just before I left Hagrid's, I ran into a bit of bad luck."
"Oh? Really?" Filch's voice perked up with curiosity. "Tell me about it."
"Well, the first problem is Peeves," Cedric said, frowning in frustration. "That poltergeist is constantly causing chaos. I was hoping Hagrid might know some sort of spell or charm to control him, but unfortunately, he didn't have any ideas."
Cedric sighed dramatically.
"He's always up to something, isn't he? Must be a real pain for you to deal with him all the time, Mr. Filch."
Before Filch could respond, Cedric added with enthusiasm, "But I've made up my mind. I'll study hard. One day, I'll find or create a spell that can restrain Peeves—something that will finally put an end to his mischief. When that day comes, he won't dare bother you ever again!"
Filch's eyes widened. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft—almost uncertain. "Oh… I see…"
Something stirred in his chest, a strange warmth he wasn't used to feeling. All afternoon, he had leaned quietly against a doorway, watching Cedric and Hagrid from afar as they practiced spells and laughed. He had felt like a shadow, standing on the outside, separated by a wall he couldn't cross. But now, listening to Cedric speak, that dark, bitter feeling was beginning to melt away. It was being replaced by something unfamiliar… something hopeful.
A genuine smile crept across his face. "I didn't expect you to be thinking about me, Cedric."
"Of course I am!" Cedric grinned. "We're friends, aren't we?"
Then Cedric's tone shifted slightly. "I also heard today that there are people called Squibs in the wizarding world…"
Filch froze mid-step.
The word hit him like a freezing gust of wind. He stopped walking, suddenly rooted to the spot, his face stiffening. Meanwhile, Cedric kept walking ahead, apparently unaware.
"I've been thinking," Cedric continued cheerfully, "if Squibs really exist, then I want to develop a potion someday that could help them overcome their limitations. A way to bring magic into their lives. But… the sad thing is, I don't even know any Squibs personally. So even if I do manage to create it, I wouldn't know who to test it with!"
He sighed, a genuine sorrow in his voice. "It's such a difficult, unfair world sometimes…"
Filch's hands trembled at his sides. He remained frozen for a few seconds longer, until the words "too difficult and too unfair" echoed in his ears and broke through his haze.
He snapped out of it and hurried to catch up with Cedric, his steps hurried and uneven.
With a shaky voice, he tried to sound calm. "If… if you really need someone to test it, I—I have a friend."
Cedric stopped at once and turned around with a bright smile. "Really? That's wonderful, Mr. Filch! Thank you!"
Filch quickly waved his hand, flustered. "It's nothing… I mean, I'm just introducing you to someone I know, that's all. Nothing important…"
"No, I want to thank you properly," Cedric said sincerely. "For trusting me. I'm just a kid who hasn't even officially started at Hogwarts yet, saying all kinds of big things, and yet… you're willing to believe in me."
Filch stared at him, bewildered. "That's the reason?"
He couldn't understand it. Why did he believe Cedric? Why did he trust the boy so instinctively?
As they resumed walking, Filch trailed half a step behind, silently studying the determined, confident figure of Cedric striding forward ahead of him.
It didn't make sense. Cedric was bright, warm—his very presence seemed to radiate light. But there was something else too. A strange, inexplicable sense that everything Cedric said would come true. That his words weren't just naive promises—they were a certainty.
Was it some kind of charm? A spell affecting his mind?
Filch shook his head. Ridiculous. There was no way a child who hadn't even taken his first class could cast such magic. Still, no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, the feeling wouldn't go away.
Then, out loud, he said the words before he even realized it: "I believe in you. I believe that one day, you'll solve the greatest problem of our time."
Squibs.
Yes, the curse of the non-magical born into magical families. It was one of the century's greatest problems.
Cedric reached the stairs and turned around, standing tall and proud. "Then let's make a promise, Mr. Filch," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "First, we deal with Peeves. Then, we tackle the Squib issue!"
He reached out his hand.
Filch climbed the last step and grasped it firmly. "It's a promise," he said solemnly. "See you tomorrow, Cedric."
"I hope to see you every day, Mr. Filch!"
A soft chime echoed in Cedric's mind.
[Ding! You have successfully moved Filch.]
[You gain +1 bonus talent point and unlock the Filch character template card.]
Yes! Cedric grinned inwardly.
Having knowledge of the original timeline made it so much easier to gain the trust of people like Hagrid and Filch. But he wasn't just manipulating them—he meant what he said. He really would study hard. He really would find a way to restrain Peeves. And if he could help the Squibs too… then all the better.
With a light heart, Cedric—or rather—made his way to Professor McGonagall's office for the evening meal.
To his surprise, when he arrived, he noticed that Professor McGonagall seemed unusually quiet tonight. She barely said a word, simply nodding to him as she prepared their meal.
Was something bothering her?
Cedric made a mental note to ask her about it tomorrow.
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