Filch

Arth, at first, tried to obliviate people one by one. However, he was met with resistance by the more experienced sixth and seventh years. So he had to change it up a bit.

"Confundo!"

"GOD DAMN! HOW THE HELL CAN YOU USE MAGIC SO WELL WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A WAND?"

"I practice?"

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN-"

The people who were hit by Arth's Confundus charm started to attack the other Gryffindors with the very spell that hit them.

"WHY IS NEVILLE SO GOOD AT CASTING SPELLS? ISN'T HE SUPPOSED TO BE BAD?"

"Well, Neville just has a severe case of stage fright, otherwise, he is a pretty good wizard. Plus, when I confunded him, I confused him to think he can cast a confundus charm by implanting my experience with the charm.

Does that make sense?"

"NO IT DOESN'T!"

However, no matter what Arth had said, it was still pretty surprising to see the usually trembling Neville one handedly massacre one fifth of the Gryffindor house.

After everyone was confunded, Arth obliviated them one by one.

It was nearly lunchtime when Arth finished obliviating the whole Gryffindor Common room.

He stretched his arms and yawned.

"Its only noon yet I'm already this tired. How am I going to survive the entire day..."

Arth glanced back at the Gryffindors behind him who resembled brainless zombies:

"The confundus charm should wear off in about a hour or so-"

Arth clapped his hands in realization.

"Harry, Ron, And Hermione have yet to be obliviated! Dammit! Where are they?"

He could trust Hermione not to spread the story, and even Harry, he knew the consequences when you get fame. However, Ron was the problem.

He did not trust Ron to keep a secret.

If Ron didn't have slugs coming out of his mouth, the whole school would probably know. Well, he would take care of Ron sooner or later.

Arth got out of the common room and walked down towards the great hall. He had barely set foot in the cool entrance hall when a voice rang out, "There you are, Kingscrown."

Professor McGonagall was walking toward them, looking stern. "You will do your detention this evening."

"Can't you show me a bit of mercy and not give me detention?"

"The rules are rules Mr. Kingscrown."

Arth clicked his tongue.

"So what am I doing, Professor?" said Arth.

"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Arth — elbow grease."

Arth let out a smirk.

Cleaning? That's my forte.

"Remember, eight o clock sharp."

Arth watched as Professor McGonagall left and saw from the corner of his eyes that Hermione and Harry were waving at him from the table.

"How did it go?"

Arth raised an eyebrow.

"How did what go?"

"You know, your trip to the headmaster's office."

"Oh that, Dumbledore is a good guy. He didn't expelled me, he just wanted to hear what had happened."

"That's great," said Harry who looked visibly relieved. "So that means your Scott free."

"Actually, Professor McGonagall came by and gave me detention."

"What?"

Hermione bit her lip before reluctantly stating, "Well it's only fair isn't it. He did break several rules."

Harry stared aghast at Hermione.

"How could you say that! Are you a Gryffindor or a Slytherin?"

"N-no, I didn't mean it like that! I meant-"

"It's ok Hermione, I know what you meant. Plus, I know I deserve detention, probably something worse. Plus, what I have to do for detention isn't that bad."

"What do you have to do?" Asked Harry and Hermione.

"All I have to do is clean the trophy room with Filch. No magic, only elbow grease."

Harry groaned.

"That's going to be horrible, one on one time with Filch? Nasty."

"Nah, cleaning is my forte, it's going to be a hell of a time."

Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"You never cease to surprise Arth, most people hate cleaning. I wonder why you enjoy cleaning and organizing so much?"

"I have OCD. I hate it when things aren't organized and dirty. Why do you think the first spell I ever learned was a cleaning one?"

"Really?" Said Harry. "I've seen your desk and it's covered by books constantly."

"I have the books organized by name, authors and genre." Replied Arth while rolling his eyes. "And who do you think makes the beds in the morning?"

"The house elves?"

"Yep, why would I ever make your beds. There might be nasty things hiding beneath the bed sheets. Can you pass me the eggs?"

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was five minutes to eight, and Arthur was making his way down the trophy room. He opened the door and walked in.

Argus was waiting for Arth, in his hands was a bucket of elbow grease.

"Ah, here's the little rule breaker !" he said. "Come on boy, get to it."

"Thank you sir."

Arth grabbed the bucket and a cloth and started to rub. In a few minutes, a trophy was shining brighter than a lightbulb.

"...at least someone understands the art of cleaning amongst you icky students. However, you missed a spot."

"I did?"

Arth looked over and found a tiny spot where his rag had failed to scrub.

Arth turned his head and dropped his jaw at Filch in awe.

"...amazing, how did you see that from that distance?"

Looking a bit smug, Filch gave a smirk before replying.

"Your technique is good, however, your experience is lacking. Clean the school for twenty five years and you'll reach my level. How do you think I find enough reasons to give out detention slips to random student?"

Arth gave an applause.

"Now now, hurry up and get to it, finish cleaning the next trophy."

Filch's voice became almost visibly warmer and kinder and he would sometimes give out some helpful cleaning remarks while Arth scrubbed.

For the first time in a quarter of a century, Filch acted friendly towards a student.