Stifling a sigh, Rowan arrives at Caretaker Argus Filch's office. The door is open, and she can hear the voice of Caretaker Filch and two other identical deep male voices. Curious she peeks inside, and her eyes widen at the changes since her last detention several years ago.
The office of Caretaker Argus Filch once upon a time had been a small, simple room with a single oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. The office tended to vaguely smell vaguely of fried fish. There had been old filing cabinets filled with the misdeeds of Hogwarts's students including cabinets filled with confiscated magic items marked as "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous." Not to mention the chains and manacles that were kept well-polished by Filch in hopes of being able to use them upon the students.
Well, that office no longer existed. Instead, the small office had been converted into a large office. There were three gleaming desks inside one for each of the Hogwarts caretakers. There were potted herbs and plants that lent a delightful scent of lemongrass and other soothing scents. The floor was carpeted, and all cabinets had been moved to a connected adjacent room. The chamber was brightly lit by bronze lamps that hung on the wall.
In the corner of the office, there is a warm cat bed along with a small cat tower for the exclusive use of Mrs. Norris. The scrawny cat with dust-colored fur happily rests in her warm cat bed. Her bulging yellow lamp-like eyes gaze around before focusing on the door. Her pink nose eagerly sniffs the air, before recognizing the scent.
Mrs. Norris lets out a welcoming meow at Rowan. Rowan wryly enters the room at hearing, Caretaker Argus Filch loudly say, "Who is it!"
Rowan greets the three caretakers. "Hello Caretaker Filch, and Caretakers Peterson, I am here to serve my belated detention."
Caretaker's Peterson identical muscular twins, both nod their heads in greeting at her. The elder twin is Trevor and the younger is Gary. Most including Rowan had difficulty telling the two men apart. They were both darker-skinned with long, braided hair. They carried themselves with power and very few of the students dared to challenge them despite being squibs/muquibs. However, whenever they spoke it was with a slight Trinidad accent.
"I will take it from here Trevor and Gary," Caretaker Argus Filch warmly said to his friends and co-workers. "Your wives and children are no doubt eagerly waiting for you for dinner."
"Then we're off," Caretaker Peterson's said in unison. They only paused to grab their thicker outer robes. The two men nodded their heads at Rowan, before departing from Hogwarts for the evening.
The two men depart leaving Rowan alone in the office with Argus Filch. From the corner of her eye, Rowan carefully studies Caretaker Argus Filch. Caretaker Argus Filch almost looked younger since her detention years ago. It would seem that being married life treated him very well.
Credit naturally also had to be given to the twin Caretaker's Peterson. Since gaining companions, Argus Filch was no longer chasing miscreants on his own nor caring for Hogwarts. Moreover, he had finally also made friends and no longer felt as lonely. That all alone had improved his mood by several degrees.
Argus Filch was still slightly hunched, but no longer as much. His face was still pasty white, but there was no color to his face. His pale eyes no longer bulged as much nor were his face as sunken as before. His hair was thin and grey, but neatly trimmed. He no longer wore ill-fitting clothing, but well-fitted clothing that properly covered his thin ankles. His bulbous nose was the same as ever, but no longer purple from anger or the cold.
The silence is interrupted by Mrs. Norris happily meowing at Rowan and curling around her legs to be petted. Rowan bends down to pet Mrs. Norris, who happily begins to purr. "You have my belated sentiments for your loss, Caretaker Filch," Rowan mumbled from the ground.
Argus lets out a sad sigh at the statement. "The funeral was well attended," his voice broke for a moment holding back painful welling up emotions. Roughly clearing his throat, he hoarsely asks, "How is little Roderic?"
"Aunt Georgine has a son by the name of Rodrigo Prince," Rowan replied without glancing up. "His father by all accounts is Roderic Filch. Rodrigo's existence had to be kept in secret since Roderic Filch was a married man by all accounts."
Argus let out a heavy sigh in understanding. He understood at that exact moment what was being asked of him. The true kinship of his nephew would have to be kept a secret. None could ever know that Roderic Filch and Roderigo Prince were one and the same child. By all accounts, the child Roderic Filch perished in the giant attack with his parents.
"But," Rowan said as she rose after giving Mrs. Norris one last scratch behind the ears, "my aunt wishes for her son to know the last remaining kin of the father of her child. Come summer, my aunt would be pleased to extend an invitation to the Filch family for a visit."
"Thank you," Argus sincerely said with moisture in his eyes. He would not be barred from seeing his nephew. "I-."
"Enough," Rowan crisply interrupted. "I am here to serve a detention Caretaker Filch," she firmly reminded him.
Sensing that Rowan no longer wished to continue to discuss the sensitive subject, Argus pulled himself back together. "The trophies need to be polished by hand, you know what to do," he briskly instructed pointing to the bucket with rags, brushes, and wax that sat at the foot of his desk.
"Understood," Rowan answered reaching down to take the bucket, before departing from the room.
Almost at the doorway, Rowan heard the voice of Argus Filch from behind her croak, "Despite what you may think, your mother loved you and Severus until the very end. I know that is difficult to believe, but I do know that she and my brother were so excited to have you in their home for a family dinner-." His voice finally broke and he fell silent.
Rowan did not respond beyond a mere crisp nod, before departing towards the trophy case to begin the arduous job of polishing the metallic items by hand. There is something very liberating and numbing about manual labor. And so, she worked until it was time for bed for tomorrow would be a better day. Yet beyond Hogwarts darkness stirred under the sight of the full moon.