Hogwarts: Filch's Office...
... an unofficial set (from the acciobrick comm) and accompanying mini-legofic.
Hogwarts: Filch's Office
The stodgy "make do and mend" mentality might have been generational, Filch definitely seemed old enough to have been through the wars, but the collection of woods and materials used to repair the obviously once broken furnishings was clearly down to his being a Squib. Either way, it looked like he'd furnished his office from whatever disused rubbish he'd found in an old cupboard, and truth be told he largely had. The furniture legs in particular had undoubtedly seen better days, and there were... issues with disparate lengths. The chairs for student... visitors to his office wobbled in a most irritating fashion, and then invariably he'd bollocks them for fidgeting and order them to sit still under threat of even more punishments while waxing poetic about the methods employed in days thankfully long past.
And yet one couldn't help noticing that his chair - a monstrous squashy armchair, really - was in perfectly good nick...
Well, at least as far as the wobbling went.
The twins had clocked the crate marked "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous" - Filch really made it too easy, didn't he? - almost the moment they'd entered the little room, made smaller still by the dim light of the guttering candles and that ridiculous desk and chair. The desk, they had it on good authority - well, Harry's anywho, so perhaps not precisely good, but clearly better than Ronniekin's, say - was absurdly larger even than Dumbledore's and rumour had it Filch had nicked the armchair from old Sluggy's leavings when he'd bunked off and quit teaching and left the school to the mercies of Snape. The flaking gold plating and mismatched upholstery notwithstanding - and off the colour, that seat cushion might once have been Trelawney's; it certainly matched her tat - if one were to squint, one could could almost picture the old potions master enthroned upon it. The oversized fittings were all about show, intimidation, every bit as much as the well-polished chains and manacles the caretaker had deliberately left on display, but they could respect that. They knew a thing or two about showmanship themselves.
It was the work of a moment for Fred to take advantage of the distraction George provided - they hadn't even needed to share more than a look to coordinate - to slip one of Zonko's Puking Pastilles into Filch's tea. (An inferior product, much in need of improvement, no question, but needs must, and it proved adequate to purpose.) When Filch darted from the office - too funny, really - they only had to distract Mrs Norris with a spot of ready catnip, and soon that intriguing bit of parchment was theirs.
Mind, it had been rather a toss-up if they should pocket that or rifle the file marked with their names...
Hogwarts: Filch's Office
The stodgy "make do and mend" mentality might have been generational, Filch definitely seemed old enough to have been through the wars, but the collection of woods and materials used to repair the obviously once broken furnishings was clearly down to his being a Squib. Either way, it looked like he'd furnished his office from whatever disused rubbish he'd found in an old cupboard, and truth be told he largely had. The furniture legs in particular had undoubtedly seen better days, and there were... issues with disparate lengths. The chairs for student... visitors to his office wobbled in a most irritating fashion, and then invariably he'd bollocks them for fidgeting and order them to sit still under threat of even more punishments while waxing poetic about the methods employed in days thankfully long past.
And yet one couldn't help noticing that his chair - a monstrous squashy armchair, really - was in perfectly good nick...
Well, at least as far as the wobbling went.
The twins had clocked the crate marked "Confiscated and Highly Dangerous" - Filch really made it too easy, didn't he? - almost the moment they'd entered the little room, made smaller still by the dim light of the guttering candles and that ridiculous desk and chair. The desk, they had it on good authority - well, Harry's anywho, so perhaps not precisely good, but clearly better than Ronniekin's, say - was absurdly larger even than Dumbledore's and rumour had it Filch had nicked the armchair from old Sluggy's leavings when he'd bunked off and quit teaching and left the school to the mercies of Snape. The flaking gold plating and mismatched upholstery notwithstanding - and off the colour, that seat cushion might once have been Trelawney's; it certainly matched her tat - if one were to squint, one could could almost picture the old potions master enthroned upon it. The oversized fittings were all about show, intimidation, every bit as much as the well-polished chains and manacles the caretaker had deliberately left on display, but they could respect that. They knew a thing or two about showmanship themselves.
It was the work of a moment for Fred to take advantage of the distraction George provided - they hadn't even needed to share more than a look to coordinate - to slip one of Zonko's Puking Pastilles into Filch's tea. (An inferior product, much in need of improvement, no question, but needs must, and it proved adequate to purpose.) When Filch darted from the office - too funny, really - they only had to distract Mrs Norris with a spot of ready catnip, and soon that intriguing bit of parchment was theirs.
Mind, it had been rather a toss-up if they should pocket that or rifle the file marked with their names...