AN: Written for the QLFC Semi-Finals.

Position: Keeper

Team: Pride of Portree

Character Given: Argus Filch

Betas: Corvusdraconis, Moka-Girl and Serpentine13. Thanks, guys!

Most eleven-year-olds spend their birthdays at parties, surrounded by friends and family wanting to wish them well for the coming year. Argus spent his waiting for an owl that would never arrive.

From the first stroke of midnight on his eleventh birthday, Argus could be found curled up on the window seat in the living room, staring out through the glass, watching for the letter he had been promised by his parents. His sister had received her letter the previous year, an innocuous-looking piece of parchment that marked the beginning of her life as a witch. Argus had been waiting since that day for his own, and now the day it would arrive had finally come.

Argus' parents had smiled at him the night before, telling him to go to sleep as soon as possible and the letter would be there when he awoke. However, sleep eluded the child as he tossed and turned, excitement warring with nerves in the pit of his stomach.

All magical children received their Hogwarts letter on the morning of their eleventh birthday. This was a fact of which all those raised by wizards were aware. However, most magical children had already shown signs of magical ability by that point. Argus' sister had displayed her first clear bout of accidental magic at age eight, when she managed to turn the boring toad she had been given as a gift into the cat that she wanted. Impressive, their parents had called it, praising his sister's abilities while the poor toadcat had pawed at its unwanted fur and startled at the unexpected meows coming from its mouth.

Argus had never done anything even remotely magical. His parents had told him it wasn't a problem, he was simply a late bloomer, but he had heard the concerned whispering late at night when they had thought he was asleep.

When the clock once more struck midnight, marking the end of his eleventh birthday, Argus let the tears fall. He had not received a letter from Hogwarts. He would never be a wizard. He was doomed to live in a world in which he had no hope of surviving. Argus tried to suppress his sobs, but the muffled sounds brought his mother running. It could not have escaped his parents' notice that the letter had not arrived, but neither had made any attempt to speak with him about it so far. Argus did not know if it was because they were respecting his space or because they were ashamed of him.

When his mother enveloped him in her arms, Argus hoped that somehow everything would still turn out for the best. Then, he felt something thin and hard press against the back of his head. His mother's shaking voice would haunt him until his dying day.

"Stupefy."

The next thing Argus knew, he was in a hospital. The alien equipment at his bedside let him know that it was not St. Mungo's. A woman with a kind face explained to him that he had been found unconscious on the doorstep of the hospital. When asked if he had parents, Argus just shook his head. It was clear that he was unwanted now that it was confirmed that he had no magic.

Life in an orphanage was hard. Children fought for the few toys that were donated to them and care workers turned a blind eye to bullying. Argus cared little. All his hopes and dreams had been destroyed in one day, and nothing would bring them back. Consequently, he withdrew into himself and became sullen and miserable. He lost any desire he once had to care for his health and hygiene and, as a result, no prospective parents ever looked twice at him. To Argus, it did not matter. If he was not at Hogwarts then he could not care less where he was.

Unloved and unwanted in both the muggle and magical world, Argus found it difficult to strike out on his own once he was deemed capable of leaving the confines of the orphanage. He had no skills and had never payed attention to those who tried to educate him in academics. Eventually, Argus found a job as a cleaner in a block of offices. The pay was poor and the work was dirty, but it was better than nothing.

At the very least, the job Argus had paid for the one vice he allowed himself. The Leaky Cauldron did not discriminate against those without magic, and while there he could allow himself to feel the illusion of belonging. Drunk and disoriented, it was easy to pretend that he was just as good as all the other patrons, and that if he had his wand he could take any of them in a duel even without an education. If only he had a wand he could punish each and every person who walked through the door for having what had been so cruelly denied to him as a child. If only he had a wand…

"I hear Dumbledore's looking for a new caretaker." Argus' head snapped up, and he stared at the witch sitting across the bar who had spoken.

"Good luck to him," the barman drew Argus' attention with his reply. "What self-respecting wizard would do that kind of work?"

No self-respecting wizard would, Argus thought to himself. A self-loathing squib, however, could finally get to go to Hogwarts. Admittedly it would not be the same as being a student there, but it would be better than nothing. Perhaps he might even be able to eavesdrop on some lessons, learn a couple of basic spells. He had magical blood, all he needed was to find someone stupid enough to leave their wand lying around and suddenly all he ever wanted would be his. Until that point, of course, it would be more menial labour for low pay and no respect. Still, he would be in a position of authority, even if it was the lowest available. He would be able to make every last one of those students pay if they failed to appreciate the opportunity they had been given.

Argus stood and stumbled outside for some air. He would need to sober up before contacting the Headmaster. As he meandered down the street he wondered if the caretaker was still allowed to use the punishments that had been in use when Argus' parents had been at school.