Are you messing with me?
Filch almost blurted it out, but his longing for magic was too strong—he swallowed the words, biting back his frustration.
Besides, though Wyzett's tone carried a certain weight, his address was always respectful—"Mr. Filch." Very few at Hogwarts ever bothered with such courtesy.
After a moment's hesitation, Filch gulped and, voice softer and a little rushed, asked, "What exactly do you mean?"
Fred looked utterly astonished. "Blimey! So you can talk like a normal person! That's a first."
"Seriously!" George chimed in, nodding. "I thought you'd been grumbling since the day you were born…"
Wyzett pressed on, "Mr. Filch, if I'm not mistaken, your daily duties are mostly enforcing school rules and cleaning the castle, correct?"
"Wrong!" Fred shot his hand up. "You're way too polite, Wyzett. 'Enforcing the importance of school rules'? Come on."
"It's just looking for trouble, really!" George agreed, nodding vigorously. "Remember when you nearly nabbed that Creevey kid? He hadn't even done anything!"
"Quiet, you two!" Filch growled, shooting them a glare, but then he nodded. "That's right! My job is to… maintain order and clean the castle."
Fred and George let out a theatrical "Ooooh!"
"Maybe you should try this, then… Just a moment." Wyzett pulled a slip of parchment from his pocket and began to cast, "Scourgify!"
The paper swelled in his hand, color deepening, until it transformed into a wand.
Earlier, Filch had already been tricked by a fake wand. Now, seeing another one materialize, his instinct was to recoil. "Is this just going to turn into a toy again?"
"It'll turn back into parchment, but the effect is different," Wyzett assured him, handing over the makeshift wand. "Please, Mr. Filch, give it a try."
"What do I do?" Filch's voice was hoarse, his trembling hand clutching the wand.
No matter what, as a Squib, he still yearned to perform magic.
"Master the magic…" Wyzett repeated softly. "Grip the wand firmly, just as if you were casting for real. Do you know the wand movement for the Scouring Charm?"
"Of course I do! I know the incantation, too!" Filch swallowed, then blurted out, "Scou—hiss—Scourgify!"
He bit his tongue mid-word, but forced out the spell through the pain.
As he moved the wand, a gentle breeze seemed to swirl around him, lifting dust and cat hair, gathering it all into a neat clump.
"Scouring Charm! This magic… this magic! Scouring Charm!" He waved the wand in a frenzy, casting again and again. "Scourgify! Scourgify!"
There was still a faint breeze, but nothing more happened.
Still, Filch kept waving the wand until it reverted to parchment. Instantly, his eyes went blank, as if waking from a dream—still a Squib, still powerless.
Wyzett watched carefully, noting what worked and what still needed improvement.
At least the incantation had vanished—progress. But the Scouring Charm only affected the caster, not the surroundings. That needed fixing.
He turned to Filch. "Mr. Filch, I still have classes, so I won't have much free time during the day…"
Hearing this, Filch looked desperate, as if clinging to a lifeline. "Whatever you want, I'll do it! I just want to cast magic again!"
He cradled the parchment in both hands, eyes brimming with longing—a yearning that had been bottled up for decades, impossible for others to truly understand.
"Please, Mr. Filch, let me finish. Research takes time," Wyzett said gently. "There are still a lot of imperfections…"
"Imperfections?" Filch echoed, struggling to understand. To him, this fake wand was already perfect—a treasure beyond price.
Wyzett nodded. "As a Scouring Charm, it shouldn't just clean yourself. It should be able to clean other places, too."
"It ought to help you keep the castle spotless, save you time and effort. That's what the Scouring Charm is meant for."
"To make that happen, I'll need to move freely around the castle… and there's more—"
Clean the castle?
Filch didn't even let him finish. "No problem! Absolutely no problem! These two troublemakers get a free pass, too, right? That's fine! Even a few more is fine!"
The twins cut in, grinning, "We don't need a free pass."
Fred flashed a crooked smile. "Filch, I actually prefer you when you're grumpy. Why not go back to that? This is just weird."
"Yeah," George agreed. "You're so unfamiliar like this! If we don't have you to spar with, our nighttime adventures would be boring."
Filch pursed his lips and turned to Wyzett. "Well… what do you think?"
…
After a round of negotiation, both sides struck a deal.
Wyzett would keep improving the fake wand's magic, and in return, he'd have as much freedom as possible to roam Hogwarts. Not just him—any student whose name he wrote down would get the same treatment.
"I'll stick to my word!" Filch promised, tucking the list away and hurrying off down the corridor.
Watching him go, looking almost youthful with hope, George got a wicked glint in his eye. "So… does this mean we can use Dungbombs with abandon now?"
"Absolutely! No more holding back!" Fred clapped, looking thrilled. "We've always wanted to test those out!"
"Trouble was, they're a nightmare to clean up. If Professor McGonagall caught us, we'd lose a ton of points. That's why we never did it."
George's eyes sparkled. "He'll clean up the Dungbombs, and we'll keep improving them—until the Scouring Charm can't get rid of them!"
"Brilliant! Once we've got Dungbombs the Scouring Charm can't touch, we'll invent something to get rid of the stink—"
"That's a fortune in Galleons!" Fred's eyes practically gleamed. "We'll sell the prank kits as a set!"
Wyzett just smiled. This fake wand was only the beginning—he had plenty more ideas to try.
And to pull them off, the freedom to move through Hogwarts at will was a crucial first step…
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