Filch

The old caretaker is walking toward them, a grin on his ugly mug. His eyes are staring directly at Rose; a sense of unease goes through the young woman.

"Ah, I was looking for you, Smith. You and I are going to have a talk in my office."

"What is this about?" Rose asked with a nervous voice.

Hermione tries to stick up to the asshole caretaker. "Mr. Filch, she hasn't done anything wrong."

He grabs Rose's wrist, dragging her off to the office. The caretaker takes her through a maze of hallways. He barks at Hermione. "This doesn't concern you, Granger. I'll be taking her for a little chat."

Rose could feel his fingers digging into her skin. The young witch is pulled to his office; his hand is squeezing her wrist hard. She doesn't know what he wants or if he is going to take advantage of her.

He opens the door to his office. A desk with a lamp is sitting in the corner. "Sit." He barks the order at Rose.

Rose sits in the chair as the nasty caretaker stands over her. His eyes are looking her over. "You think you are a tough girl."

Rose shook her head. "No sir. I'm not."

"You think I don't know what you have been doing. You think, because I'm a squib, that I don't have my own means of information. Your little secret isn't secret anymore."

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