For many Muggles, April 7th held special significance.
More precisely, the first Sunday after the full moon following the spring equinox held special significance for many Muggles.
Muggles called this day "Easter." It was said to have been established to commemorate a Muggle rising from the dead.
To the Argus Filch of the past, he had never understood how a group of Muggles who did not believe in magic could believe that a Muggle could "rise from the dead."
Could that Muggle's true identity have been that of a wizard as well?
Back then, he had merely been a Squib.
Although he considered himself luckier than most Squibs, able to work at Hogwarts and live alongside magic and wizards;
he would occasionally feel that he was actually the most unfortunate Squib of them all.
When he had first entered Hogwarts, he had not yet developed rheumatism, and his cheeks had not sagged so badly.
He had thought that by working here, at the best magical school in the world, he would one day learn magic too.
Yet one year passed.
Then two years.
Then five years.
He was still the same Squib who needed a broom and a brush to scrub the stains from floors and walls.
Later, he stopped hoping to learn magic.
He buried all his longing deep in his heart, concealing it with anger and bitterness, like shoveling earth into a deep pit containing a coffin.
He viciously cursed at the students, wishing he could hang up every student who broke the rules. After doing this time and again, he became the least liked person at Hogwarts.
But he did not care.
Or rather, he did care, but he would not allow himself to care.
Because if he stopped caring, he would not suffer so much.
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