Drabble, Crappy, Filch

For Dorrito’s Every Flavour Mood Beans.

*****

Crappy

He should have known he’d lose her, she who had allowed him satisfaction at last, some dignity, long-deserved. There was something poetic about it all, he’s sure some nitwit would say, which was, of course, exactly why he hated that useless rot. He greeted the new year with a scowl, avoiding the professors more than ever, not that they ever sought him out. Their joy and relief permeated the castle like a stink. The students eyed him with a new disrespect. Even Mrs. Norris was a laughing stock.

He moved through passages in the dark, cursing and pleading for magic.

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