Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0241 Search

"Okay, wait for me here—"

When Sirius finished describing how the map was confiscated and what it looked like, Bryan dropped these words and immediately walked to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the shelf, and threw it into the fireplace. With a loud bang, the flames in the fireplace turned emerald green. Bryan stepped into the fireplace and disappeared from Sirius's sight.

He reappeared in a different room, one that he had not ever visited. The room was dim and dirty, with no windows, only a lonely oil lamp hanging from the low ceiling. The lamp cast a faint yellow light over the dusty furniture and the cobwebbed corners.

There was a faint smell of fried fish in the air, and many wooden filing cabinets were lined up along the walls. Judging from the labels, these cabinets contained detailed information about every student punished by Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts. Bryan knew that Filch kept meticulous records of every misdeed and mischief that happened in the school, and he often threatened to show them to the headmaster or the Ministry of Magic.

On the wall behind the desk hung a set of shiny hinges and handcuffs. These things had been hanging there since Bryan attended school here. Filch had hoped that they would be useful, but unfortunately, they remained mere decorations over the years. The Ministry of Magic had banned the use of such devices on students, much to Filch's dismay.

Clang!

"Oh, damn it, what the–"

A phantom suddenly flashed out of the narrow fireplace, and misjudging the messiness of the room, Bryan kicked Mrs. Norris's food tray. The tray clattered to the floor, spilling the cat food and water all over the rug.

While scolding the young wizards, Filch instinctively cursed, but when he saw who the visitor was, his bulging goldfish eyes immediately widened, and his flushed and sagging cheeks turned pale.

"I didn't know it was you, Director Watson!"

Filch glared fiercely at the casually standing Weasley brothers behind the table, but then, realizing who the visitor was, he instinctively straightened up, and with a startled tone, said, "I was interrogating these two troublemakers and didn't notice it was you, sir!"

"It's alright, Argus, I came here uninvited and disturbed your work."

Bryan waved his hand and smiled. He was used to Filch's grumpy attitude and his constant complaints about the students. Then, he turned his gaze to the slightly uneasy Fred and George and asked, "What's the matter, you two? Have you gotten yourselves into trouble again?"

"Oh, it's not us who caused trouble, Professor!"

Fred closed his eyes and made a grimace, as if Professor Watson's words had deeply hurt him. He put his hand over his heart and said, "Explain, George."

"Well, Professor, you know we'll be taking our O.W.L. exams next year, and our classmates are all anxious. We can't just sit idle–"

"So?"

Bryan gestured to Filch, indicating that he didn't need to rush, and then crossed his arms, listening with interest to the Weasley twins' rambling.

"We've made up our minds to study hard and make up for the ignorance in our wasted youth," Fred innocently said, blinking his eyes. He looked at Bryan with a sincere expression, as if he was expecting praise. "We found a quiet classroom and were fully focused on magical research. But then, this Mr. Filch barged in with his cat and caused trouble for us for no reason–"

"Nonsense!"

Filch's face twitched uncontrollably, and he angrily sprayed spittle at Bryan's face. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and said, "Mr. Watson, don't listen to these two little brats' nonsense. They're lying through their teeth!"

Before Bryan could speak, Filch, with a face full of anger, opened his hand, revealing a long, flesh-colored rope. He held it up for Bryan to see and said, "Look, Director Watson, this is what I snatched from their hands. It can shrink and stretch, and I haven't figured out what other things it can do yet, but at least, I bet it has nothing to do with studying. It must be one of those stupid prank gadgets!"

"You simply don't understand," Fred retorted, "so you're accusing us."

Bryan raised his eyebrows and said, "Let me see, Filch."

He beckoned with his finger, and the flesh-colored rope flew into his hand. He picked up a small section with his thumb and index finger and placed it in front of him. In his purple eyes, there were constantly fleeting flashes of lights. 

Fred gave George a look: What should we do, brother? We can't expect Professor Watson to be as foolish as Filch. 

George: Just relax, brother. Maybe he's having a moment of confusion.

Time passed by, and after about a minute, Bryan finished his observation and looked at the resolute Weasley twins. He threw the object back to them and looked at them with admiration.

"This rope is intriguing. But, Professor Flitwick didn't teach you the Imperturbable spell?"

Fred and George exchanged a glance and saw the excitement in each other's eyes. 

"Can you give us some guidance, Professor Watson!"

Bryan didn't hesitate to impart knowledge, even though he was a part-time substitute teacher. He asked Filch, who was still confused, for a quill and quickly wrote down the names of several books on a form for recording 'crimes.' Then, he handed the paper to the excited twins. The books had titles like 'Advanced Charms and Enchantments', 'Magical Theory and Application', and 'The Art of Invention: A Guide for Creative Wizards'.

"Your talents are undeniable, but relying solely on talent is not enough to support your wild imaginations. Knowledge is important."

"You're absolutely right, Professor Watson!" Fred nodded seriously. "We'll go raid the library!"

Filch watched this scene with a face full of disappointment, but when he heard his superior's words, he immediately became happy again.

"Anyway, Argus is not wrong about you two. You have caused a lot of trouble and annoyance for him and the other staff members. Now, I have something to consult with Argus. You two can come back here sometime this week and receive your punishment."

Fred and George walked up to the room dejectedly and closed the door with a heavy heart. 

"What can I do for you, Mr. Watson!"

Filch said happily after getting what he wanted. 

"Well, Argus–"

Bryan didn't dare to say that he was a rule-abiding young wizard when he was a student, but he was definitely modest and cautious. Apart from being locked up in Professor Snape's office for minor offenses, Filch had never caught him red-handed. So, he had only heard about this notorious office from his fellow housemates, and had never experienced it personally.

He looked around, and his eyes fell on the cabinets full of labels. The labels had names, dates, and descriptions of the confiscated items. Some of them were familiar to Bryan, Others were unfamiliar, such as 'Luna Lovegood, 1992, a necklace of butterbeer corks that can ward off Nargles'.

"I came here to look for something, it's a blank parchment that looks very old, it's about this big when spread out–"

Bryan gestured with his hand to show the size.

"This thing was probably confiscated by you from a few students about ten years ago, it's been a long time, I don't know if you have any memory of it."

What followed was a frenzy of searching. Filch opened almost every drawer in the room that could hold something. He pulled out all kinds of objects, some of them harmless, some of them dangerous, some of them bizarre. He found things like fireworks, dungbombs, quills, books, magazines, cloaks, hats, wands, brooms, and even a sword. Some of the things were even confiscated by Filch's highly respected predecessor, Apollyon Pringle, and had been lying in the unknown corners, waiting to rot into dust.

Throughout the process, Bryan didn't rush Filch at all, but Filch clearly felt immense pressure. He muttered crazily while searching,

"Damn it, damn it, could it be that there was a thief here!"

He couldn't believe that he couldn't find the thing that Watson was looking for. 

After an hour, Filch finally gave up searching. He straightened his sore old waist and said with a mournful face to Bryan, "Please give me some more time. I swear I will find the thing you're looking for."

This situation didn't surprise Bryan. After more than a decade, a seemingly ordinary piece of parchment might have been used as a draft and burned in the fireplace.

"Do your best, Argus. If you can't find it, it's alright."

He said this with a gentle and understanding tone, trying to make Filch feel better. 

But this magnanimity made Filch even more uneasy. After all, Director Watson rarely gave him orders. It was a rare opportunity to make amends, and he had messed it up.

"I'll go back to my quarters and search again, Director Watson. I will report to you whether I can find it or not!"

Before Bryan walked into the fireplace, Filch anxiously called out. 

"Then, I'll leave it to you, Argus–"

Bryan waved his hand without turning back, and his figure turned into a phantom and disappeared into the emerald flames. 

Behind a tapestry beside the grand staircase on the ground floor of the castle, Fred and George looked at each other, both seeing the unease in each other's eyes. They had hidden themselves there after escaping from Filch's office, using the Extendable Ear to listen to the conversation between Professor Watson and Filch. 

"This is not good," Fred said desperately while pulling the flesh-colored rope back. He wrapped it around his wrist and stuffed it into his pocket.

"How did Professor Watson know about that thing? Could it be what Harry said?" Fred asked, his voice trembling. 

"We'll never figure out the answer to that," George urgently said, peeking out to observe the commotion in filch's office. 

"But we need to give Harry a warning!" George added, grabbing Fred's arm.

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For More Chapters; /FicFrenzy

Author's Note: I am feeling better today, but I still can’t walk properly. It doesn’t hurt now, but it will hurt if I try to bend down or stretch. I will try to post updates, but it may take me two or three more days to include your suggestions in the story. When I do, I will write about it in the author’s note.