Society for the Support of Squibs

For the rest of the day, after the staff meeting, there is an unusual bounce or better said skip in the footsteps of Caretaker Argus Filch. Why even when a pair of Gryffindors are caught right before dinner with frog spawn soap, they are only given two days' worth of detention. It is most strange as the same incident under normal circumstances would have been sure to grant them an entire week of detention. Still not pressing their luck, the pair of Gryffindors ran off delighted at their luck.

Humming the moment, the brats are gone, Argus most cheerfully hurries back to his quarters to dress. Today is the monthly meeting of squibs hosted by the Society for the Support of Squibs, whose entire purpose is to better the lives of squibs in wizarding society. Sadly, they are charitable donations and not an official ministry department. As such, their hands are rather forcefully tied up most of the time or severely restricted in what they can or cannot do.

Mrs. Norris, his wonderful brown cat with intelligent yellow eyes meows loudly as she scampers next to him. Argus's lips peel back to reveal a slightly tinted yellow smile. "I'll be gone this evening as per usual, Mrs. Norris," Argus fondly explained to his dearest companion. "If there's any trouble, you know to run straight to Professor McGonagall."

Mrs. Norris meows loudly in agreement as she rather liked the magical human. Even better yet, the magical human could turn into a cat just like her. It made communication much easier. Not that she didn't love her ordinary human, but he couldn't always understand her meows.

Having the rest of the evening off, Argus finishes downing on his best suit. Satisfied with his appearance, he runs a brush through his thinning hair, before bending down to give Mrs. Norris a gentle scratch behind her ears. Mrs. Norris loudly purrs, before climbing back onto her four feet to escort her human to the front entrance of Hogwarts.

His usual carriage is waiting for him outside at the entrance. Hagrid always remembered to prepare a carriage for him. Not that Argus would ever tell Hagrid how profoundly grateful he was to the large groundskeeper. Still, Argus did his best to show his gratitude by bringing by a fruitcake or raisin cookies, when he stopped by once per month to have a cuppa tea with the groundskeeper.

Climbing into the carriage, Argus waved goodbye to Mrs. Norris as the carriage moved forward causing her lovely brown figure to quickly become smaller and smaller in the distance. Turning to face forward, Argus glances up at the semi-cloudy night sky. It was supposed to drizzle later in the night and as such he'd prepared an umbrella just in case should the situation occur.

The carriage swiftly made down the well-known path, before stopping just outside of Hogsmeade. Argus firmly shuts the carriage door behind him as the unseen Thestral's trot back the way they came. There would be another carriage waiting for him later tonight to carry him back. But said carriage was always five minutes late, which was a bit of an inconvenience in the winter, but rather nice during the warm months.

Firmly clutching his umbrella in hand, Argus makes his way down to the Three Broomsticks in order to floo. Personally, he favored drinking at the Hogs Head Inn, but for flooing, it is better to avoid the particularly rowdy crowd in the evenings that converged together at the pub. It is rather hard to reason with a drunk especially when said drunk asked him to pull out his wand. It is an even more difficult job to explain to said drunk that he was in fact a squib and did not possess a magical wand. And even worse, attempting to reason with said drunk, why using their fists was out of the question.

Glancing at the time, Argus nods his head in satisfaction as he enters the rather crowded, noisy, but smoky pub. The Three Broomsticks is as popular as ever, especially with Madam Rosmerta out at the front. The curvy witch with a rather pretty face and more than ample chest is incredibly popular with all the patrons. Rumor had it that Madam Rosmerta was a widow and hence the reason she was called Madam rather than Miss. But then again, being called Madam, probably earned her more respect than being called Miss.

Madam Rosmerta glances up from what she was doing and catches his eye. The pretty witch flashes him a teasing smile and a wink causing Argus to horribly flush. Hastily turning away, he missed the warm chuckle that followed as she returned to pouring drinks for the wizards at the bar ogling her and trying to earn her attention.

Keeping a firm grip on his umbrella, Argus tosses the sparkly powder into the flames and says, "The Society for the Support of Squibs," before stepping into the green flames and flooing away.

Minutes later, Argus emerged from the hearth in a rather cozy-looking hall. Brushing the soot off his sleeves, he hurries forward and into the main parlor. There already sitting down are several individuals and among them is an older woman with grizzled grey flyaway hair, Miss Arabella Doreen Fig. Arabella, a squib who had married young, but later divorced her muggle husband, due to physical violence. It was quite shocking to the Squib community and as such, squibs were now much more careful when marrying a muggle, especially squib females.

"Good evening, Arabella," Argus Filch called out to the older woman.

Arabella flashes the younger squib male a smile. "Hello yourself Argus," Arabella said as she gestured for Argus to sit by her.

Argus carefully takes the seat next to her pretending not to notice all the various cat hair on her clothing. Serving himself a cup of tea, he says, "And how have things been on your end, Arabella?"

"Same old," Arabella replied taking a sip of her own tea. "My cat Toffee is having kittens. She has been rather catty, and then she got out one night, and well now we find ourselves with this unprecedented conundrum. What about your, Mrs. Norris?"

"Of course not!" Argus exclaimed. "Mrs. Norris is a Lady!"

"Mm," Arabella muttered under her breath. "That's what they all say until a tomcat passes by and catches their fancy." And wasn't that the kicker!