Percy stepped into the room, coughing twice as the dust caught in his throat. He had no idea what he stepped on, but it gave a sharp crack.
Looking down, he found a shard of glass beneath his shoe—perhaps the remains of an ink bottle that had shattered long ago.
Percy felt the urge to take a deep breath, but the musty smell in the air made him hold it in.
He turned around and saw Filch still standing in the doorway, staring at him without blinking.
It felt as though a mangy old hyena were following behind him.
Mrs. Norris, at Filch's feet, arched her back. When Percy looked back at her, she let out a drawn-out hiss, baring her teeth as if threatening him.
The two exchanged a glance. Filch lowered his eyes and said with feigned respect, "Now that I've brought you here, I'll be leaving..."
He turned to go, then seemed to remember something and looked back. "Oh, Mr. Weasley, none of the documents here may be taken out at will. Otherwise, the magic in the archive room will sound an alarm—I thought you should know."
"Wait, Mr. Filch."
Percy stopped him, glanced around the room, and said, "These documents should be arranged chronologically, correct? Could you tell me roughly where the files from the past few years are?"
"That way, I can start with the recent ones. If I have any questions, it'll be easier to verify them."
"As for those from a long time ago, there's no need to look through them."
Filch looked at him, then silently walked to the left side of the room. He stopped before a wooden rack propped up at the bottom by chair legs and patted it.
"What you need is all on this rack. Which part do