You Promised It Would Be Forever - Edit

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
*******************************

Chapter 10 ~ A Caretaker Takes Care of Business

Professor Pomona Sprout, the Herbology teacher, huffed and puffed as Argus led her with his quick, arthritic stride to the small garden area. She looked at the marker and turned to Filch.

"Jacob Dante Snape?" she asked. "I didn't know about this, Argus."

Filch shook his head.

"No, Professor. You wouldn't have. It was a private ceremony. Only the parents and the Headmaster were in attendance. You see, the boy passed on before he was born."

Pomona's eyes glistened.

"How sad," she said sympathetically. She noticed the overturned earth on the small grave. "Was it recent?"

Filch realized that she noticed the earth on the grave was new. He didn't want to tell her the child had been exhumed. That would lead to too many questions, and the Herbology teacher was a terrible gossip.

"No, Professor. It's been about four years. I turn the dirt over sometimes to keep it looking pretty here."

Pomona looked around.

"You certainly do keep it pretty, Argus. It must comfort his parents very much," she said.

"I do it for the boy. He never got a chance to see the world, and if he had he probably would have seen the ugliness. I keep it pretty here for him. Show him it can be beautiful, too," the caretaker said.

The Herbology teacher's eyes glistened a bit at this.

"And you want to know if I can make this garden self-maintaining?" she asked.

"Yes," Argus said, "I'm thinking of taking a long trip, and I hate to think it will not be tended. Hagrid could probably do it…but he's not consistent. I just want to know Jacob will keep a nice place when I'm gone."

Pomona wondered where the old squib was planning to go, but didn't ask.

"I'll be happy to set the site up to perpetually care for itself. It's wonderful that you care so much, Argus," she said kindly.

Filch gave her a perfectly horrendous smile, then did a kind of scrabbly, painful looking, spidery dance. The witch winced a little.

"Thank you, Professor," he said gratefully, his bent form bowing as best his could.

He was bent because his back hurt him from the running he had done earlier to inform the Potions Master of his son's disappearance. As a matter of fact, Argus was always in some kind of pain. Even pain potions didn't help much anymore, he had taken so many over the years. He was an old man, still working, still chasing and cleaning up after muddleheaded, rule-breaking students. He had no rest. And he was tired…very, very tired.

"You're welcome, Argus," the witch replied, rolling up her voluminous sleeves and extracting her wand.

Argus watched her work, a sense of peace dropping over him. The boy would always be surrounded by beauty.

**************************

Argus returned to his rooms, locked his door, then walked over to the wall. He slid back a portion of it, revealing a wall safe. He slowly turned the dial of the combination lock and opened it. The little safe was chock full of galleons. He had very little to spend them on.

The squib scooped a large amount of coins into a bag, tied it and closed his safe, sealing it behind the panel again. He then picked up two port keys. He could use these particular port keys because they were magical objects that worked by pressing a button, and didn't require him to be magical in order to use them. They worked on squibs and/or muggles. Part of a line of magical devices Fred and George Weasley developed to tap into the resources of the squib community.

The first port key would take him to Diagon Alley and back to Hogwarts. The second port key would take him to muggle London, then back to his point of origin. He could use them on the castle grounds. Filch picked up a leather pouch with a long shoulder strap that looked as if he'd had it all his life. He put the sack of galleons in it, and one of the port keys. He held the other, which was a functional cigarette lighter in his hand and pressed the button. The lighter glowed blue and he was gone.

*************************

Argus arrived at Diagon Alley feeling nauseous and disoriented. He hated port key travel, but it was the quickest way to get around. He appeared right in front of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, just where he wanted to be. The old caretaker pushed the door to the shop open and walked right in and up to the counter. He banged on it snarkily and an irritated looking clerk appeared from the back room, frowning at the squib.

"I need to see Fred and George," Argus said, scowling at the clerk.

"Yes sir," the clerk responded a bit rudely, walking back into the office. After a moment he reappeared. "Go right in."

Filch stalked around the counter and walked into the office of Fred and George Weasley. All kinds of certificates and awards hung haphazardly on the back wall of the office. Two desks sat in opposite corners of the room, flanked by file cabinets. All kinds of gadgets lay scattered about…presumably products they were working on There was a long table in the middle of the room, surrounded by chairs. On the opposite side of the table sat Fred and George Weasley, looking absolutely delighted.

"Filch! Good to see your smiling face again," George said to the scowling squib as he sat down slowly across from them.

"Yes. You're like a bit of sunshine in the midst of storm, you are," Fred agreed.

Both started laughing hysterically. Filch grimaced even more.

"Stop your foolishness you two," Filch growled at them, reaching into his pouch, withdrawing the sack of galleons and plunking it down on the table. "I got business to conduct."

Both Fred and George sobered immediately. If anything got the twin's attention, it was the clink of galleons.

"What can we do for you, Mr. Filch?" Fred asked, his manners much improved by the appearance of coinage.

"I need something special. Something a squib can use. If anyone has such a thing, it would be you two mischievous bastards. I need a port key that can track a wizard and take me to him. One I can operate," he said, glaring at the twins.

Fred and George looked at each other.

"Why do you need it?" George asked. He hoped Filch wasn't planning on killing anybody.

Filch seemed to realize that he had to be relatively honest to get their cooperation.

"I want to help somebody who probably wouldn't let me help him otherwise," he replied evasively.

The twins' eyebrows went up. Filch actually helping somebody? Amazing.

"Ah, a good deed then," Fred said.

"Selfless service," George intoned.

"Sounds like a worthy exploit," Fred said, rising behind the table and hopping over it using one hand. "I think we can fix you up, Mr. Filch…but it's going to cost you."

"Of course it is," Argus growled.

Fred smirked at him.

"I'll be right back," Fred said, leaving the office.

George folded his hands and looked at the squib. He looked to be almost two hundred years old. How the hell did he keep going?

"So, care to give me any details about this good deed you're going to do, Filch?" he asked hopefully. Filch was the meanest, orneriest squib he knew. The fact that he contained the redeeming quality of helpfulness came as quite a surprise.

"No, I don't care to, and I don't want my business with you repeated," Filch snarled at him.

George threw up his hands.

"Mr. Filch, you wound me. All transactions at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes are confidential. We keep out of trouble that way," he said amicably.

"Well you'd both better keep your mouths shut tight about this," Filch said, scowling at him.

Fred returned to the office, hopped back over the desk, skimming Argus in the process and sat down. He opened his palm, revealing a flattened disk with a glowing jewel on one end and a red and green button on top.

"This is from our "Secret Surveillance" line. It's called "The Track-a-Port". Something we've been working on for use by the Ministry Aurors. You simply point the jewel at the person you wish to track and press the red button. The signature is captured and converted to a port key destination point. The button will turn blue if you've got him right. When you want to locate him, you simply press the green button and it works like a port key. You land about twenty feet from your target. Of course, you will be seen…but we're working on adding a disillusionment spell."

Filch looked at the object. It was exactly what he needed.

"How much?" he asked.

Fred and George looked at Filch.

"Twenty thousand galleons," they both said together.

Filch nearly had a heart attack. He clutched his chest and both wizards looked alarmed.

"Twenty thousand galleons? I don't have that kind of money," the squib gasped.

Actually, Filch did have it. He just didn't want to spend it.

"Here now, Filch, hold on a minute. Don't go dying on us. We aren't going to try to charge you that," George said desperately as Fred quickly poured the gasping squib a glass of never-ending ice water from a pitcher on the table and slid it over to him.

Filch drank a bit of it, and looked calmer. The two proprietors sighed in relief. A customer dying during a transaction would be very bad for business.

"Listen, this has never been tested in the field before…so we are willing to give it to you for that sack of galleons and a written statement of how well it works to use in its marketing. You willing to do that, Mr. Filch?"

Filch did the calculations in his head. The sack contained about three hundred galleons. It was quite a markdown.

"Yes, I'll do it," he griped, though he was quite pleased with the arrangement.

Fred slid the device over to Filch, while George grabbed the sack.

"There you go, Mr. Filch. Don't get yourself in trouble with it now," George said, looking into the sack and smiling broadly.

Filch rose, grunted and left the office.

Fred watched him go, then looked at George.

"Charming chap, that Filch," he said sarcastically.

"Yep. Almost as sweet as he was when running us down in Hogwarts," George replied.

They both laughed, happy to have helped the old grouch out.

He had given them loads of entertainment at Hogwarts, after all.

*****************************

Next Argus portkeyed to a rather unsavory section of muggle London. He walked a few blocks, then turned down a dirty alley. Doors lined it. He walked five doors down to a steel reinforced one, and knocked in a specific rhythm. In a moment, there was a clicking sound, and a small rectangular window opened. Two blue eyes looked out warily.

"Filch!" a voice exclaimed.

The window snapped shut, and a number of clicks sounded, then the door swung back heavily, opening on to a dark alley. A tall, rugged muggle in a white wife-beater, camouflage pants, laced up leather boots with three days worth of stubble on his chin smiled at the squib broadly.

"Hey old man. It's been a while," he said by way of greeting.

Filch nodded and stepped inside. He turned to watch the muggle reset the assorted locking devices. Then the man turned and walked up the hall into a small lighted room. It contained a table and two chairs. Some maps were on the wall, but there wasn't much else.

"What do you need today, Filch? Some more hollow points?" the muggle asked him.

Filch nodded.

"I need a small smelting machine too. Something I can use to seal them this time," the caretaker said.

Filch kept all manner of weapons. Including guns. He would fire them off in the Forbidden Forest late at night for entertainment. He had never used a gun on anything living, though he was a crack shot.

"Jacketed hollow point all right?" the muggle asked him.

Filch nodded.

"How many rounds?" he asked.

"I think I'll only be needing one. Maybe two," Filch said.

"Two it is," the muggle said, rising and exiting the room through another steel door.

Filch sat there quietly. He had been using this gun dealer for about ten years now. Guns were banned in England, though the ban didn't appear to have lessened the crime rate. Criminals still had them, and those intent on assault and murder simply used other instruments to cause death. It was a good effort any way. Filch had guns simply because he liked them.

Up to this point.

The muggle returned with two boxes of hollow points, and a clear jar of what looked like clay.

"What's that?" Filch asked, pointing at the jar.

"A moldable plastic that hardens to a steel-like strength. You can cap the bullets with this. Better than machining them. Faster and simpler too. You putting something in them?" the muggle asked curiously.

Filch nodded.

The muggle looked at him speculatively.

"You know, you don't talk much Filch. That's what I like about you. You've been coming here over ten years and I still don't know anything more than your name. Makes me feel safe," the muggle smiled at him.

"I don't even know that much about you," Filch replied, reaching into his pouch, taking out an old wallet and giving the muggle some pound notes. "And don't want to."

The muggle laughed as Filch put his purchases into his pouch.

"That's fine by me, Filch. Good doing business with you," he said rising.

Filch rose and followed the muggle back down the hall, watched him go through the locks and exited. He walked several feet then took out his port key and with a press, returned to Hogwarts.

He was almost ready.

***************************
A/N: Wow. A whole chapter on Argus Filch. Well, he rarely gets any positive play in fanfics. He's overdue. But guns? Hollow point bullets? Seems there's more to the caretaker than meets the eye. What's up with that Track-a-Port? Got a bad feeling about this. Please review.