"Good afternoon, Professor Sprout."
Pomona was carrying a picnic basket past the entrance hall when she happened to run into the students heading to the Great Hall for lunch.
"Good afternoon." She replied with a standard smile, then heard the clinking sound of hammering.
Following the sound, she looked up and saw Filch standing atop an extremely tall, precarious ladder, hammering nails into the wall.
Bound by magical contracts, House-elves were not allowed to touch wizarding portraits. Thus, whenever the portraits on the walls came loose, Filch had no choice but to climb dangerous ladders to adjust them.
It should have been an insignificant matter, but the moment she thought of that roomful of fur crabs, fury surged through her.
The trophy room was also on the third floor, and every trophy displayed within had been polished to a gleam by punished students. But how had he forgotten the lost wand storage room?
"Mr Argus Filch," Pomona said, looking up at him from the foot of the stairs. "Could you come down for a moment?"
Filch stopped hammering and looked down at Pomona.
"Whatever it is, say it from there. I still have work to do," Filch said.
"I think it's dangerous to talk like this," Pomona said.
"No, coming down to talk is what's truly dangerous. Whenever someone calls me by my full name, it means I'm in trouble."
Pomona set down her picnic basket and folded her hands together.
"You've patrolled so many times. Have you ever been to the lost wand storage room on the third floor?"
Filch thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."
"Then describe the last time you went there. What did you see?" Pomona asked.
"Everything was as usual." Filch waved his hammer. "Every wand was laid out neatly. Put them in boxes,