"This is not where you should be," Filch said as he stared at Draco with his cat-like, bulbous eyes, filled with a little bit of hatred and jealousy. This was his usual expression when facing most students, and it was even worse with Draco because he still clearly remembered his spiritual sustenance, Mrs. Loris, almost being killed because of this kid.
Draco did not reply to him immediately, but looked around. There was an oil lamp on the ceiling, the light flickering and dimming, and a set of chains and handcuffs that had been brightly polished hung beside him, ready to be used to punish students who violated discipline, which was his favorite thing to do.
The room was still filled with the smell of grilled fish. He didn't know if he ate it himself or prepared it for his beloved pet.
"First of all, sir, I am sorry for the mistakes I made last semester," Draco said, his face full of regrets. "You know, that wasn't my intention."
"Really?" Filch still looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze, but his face had eased a lot. He could hear Draco's sincere tone, which made him feel a long-lost respect.
His secret was revealed last year. He was born into a wizarding family, but he was a dud, unable to perform magic. Is this his fault? He did his best for the management of Hogwarts, but there were always many troublemakers who interfered with his work. Some students would laugh at him to his face, some would laugh behind his back, laughing at his clothes, laughing at his bare forehead, and laughing at his old movements. But the biggest source of laughter was, of course, his biggest flaw - he couldn't perform magic.
A wizard who cannot perform magic is really ridiculous.
He thought that this secret could be kept hidden, at least kept secret among the students, allowing him to retain a little dignity. Unfortunately, he himself revealed it last year.
From then on, the eyes of the students looked at him with another emotion - sympathy and pity.
His heart became more gloomy, and he was loyal to his duties but not understood. This made his heart more and more distorted. Now he only found pleasure in punishing disobedient students.
But today was different. He didn't see ridicule and pity in the eyes of the student in front of him. It was a very ordinary look, exactly what he had hoped for.
His wish is simple, he just wants to be an ordinary wizard (even if he can't perform magic), he just wants to be treated equally.
"You are a respected administrator and I am very sorry for what happened to you last year," Draco apologized again. "So I hope you can forgive me."
"Meow." A meow suddenly came from above the two of them, which was the cry of Mrs. Loris.
"Oh, your nose is good. Take it," Mrs. Loris keenly noticed the package in Draco's arms and dropped down directly from the ceiling chandelier. Draco threw one of the packages to her and Mrs. Loris eagerly tore it open to enjoy the delicious food inside.
It was a packet of dried fish.
Upon seeing this, Filch's sassy expression gradually eased.
Giving someone something they like is always the fastest way to achieve your goals.
"Almost forgot to do business," Draco said as he made a waking expression and hurriedly took the other black package from behind him and handed it to Filch.
"What is this?" Filch asked, trying to sound gentle. He knew he had a reputation for being rude and sometimes laughed at, but he also knew that respect is mutual. The two little ghosts in the Weasley family often imitated him, sometimes seriously but usually for fun.
"Prank props," Draco said calmly.
Filch's face immediately changed and his eyes protruded from under his deep, concave eye sockets, looking a bit like evil spirits. This was his most annoying trait. Almost instantly, he felt that Draco was there to humiliate him.
"The Weasley brothers caused chaos throughout the building, so I confiscated these items from them," Draco said, enunciating the word "confiscated" slowly.
"I think there's only one destination for these mischievous props," Draco continued, looking past Filch to the drawer behind him. He knew that there was a special drawer for the twins and another labeled "Confiscated supplies, high danger."
"Those twins are troublemakers. Every time they pull a prank, they cause a uproar. Many professors have told me about the screaming letter incident last time. I even told Professor Dumbledore, but the headmaster always says I should be more tolerant. I mean, I guess you could say their pranks are some sort of art, but I don't know what kind!" Filch ranted, getting more and more excited and even slamming his hand on the table.
In addition to doing what one wants, sometimes setting the same enemy as a target is also a way to bond.
Filch felt that Draco, who had lost the Academy Cup due to the secret room incident and clapped his hands at the time, was becoming more likable and assumed he must be innocent.
Well, if Filch knew that the pranks in the bag were all knock-out potions that Draco had bought from the twins, he might not think so.
"These are just a small contribution I'm making to the stability of Hogwarts," Draco said modestly. "Now, I think it's time for me to personally pay my respects to a conscientious and misunderstood administrator like yourself." As he said this, he took out the last item he had brought with him today from his arms: a bottle of wine, or possibly a strong liquor, depending on the packaging.
Filch's eyes narrowed immediately. This item should be considered contraband at Hogwarts. As he hesitated on how to deal with it, Draco spoke up.
"This bottle of wine will be the only contraband you find in my bedroom. It's up to you how to handle it. It has nothing to do with me," Draco said, spreading his hands in a clear hint.
"Students aren't allowed to drink," Filch frowned.
"I can be a listener, though," Draco said with a smile.
Filch took the bottle with his dry palm, his expression complicated, and uncorked it. The smell of wine filled the office.
Soon after, Filch, now drunk and leaning against the table, told Draco about his tragic childhood and life.
"You know, I've always felt like I'm not like other people my age," Filch said drunkenly. "Why is life always so unfair?"
Prejudice, ridicule, and sympathy had made him feel inferior and sensitive. As an administrator, he could only act mean and old-fashioned. This was his disguise, but the mask of disguise may never truly be removed after wearing it for so long.
Draco looked at Filch, drunk at the table, and sighed slightly.
"Poor guy," he thought silently, before standing up and walking outside. The sober Mrs. Lorice remained curled up on the table, silently gnawing on dried fish, watching as Draco left.