Since you little bastards drove the house elves to strike, I've been having a devil of a time getting my work done. Well, now it's time for the shoe to roost on the other foot. It's Summer Cleaning, you little sods, and you're going to help me get this castle clean enough to eat off of. You may be thinkin, "Oh, it's Mr. Filch and his crazy
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MAYBE HANGING UP TO DRY?
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I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW THAT.
I WILL DIE FIRST.
AND YOU WOULDN'T WANT THAT, SEEING AS IT APPEARS NOT THAT MANY PEOPLE HAVE MUCH OF A HOLD OVER VOLDEMORT, YOU KNOW?
ANYWAY, WHAT WERE YOU PLANNING ON DOING? EXPELLING ME? BRINGING MY REBELLION TO THE ATTENTION OF A TEACHER? TRYING TO TURN ME INTO A YAK? OH NO WAIT, YOU CAN'T.
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Oh, right, him. I figured you'd already vanquished him or something, what with the utter lack of evil plots lately.
Unless this whole wet-dog-Potter thing is his doing?
Oh, nice job on the squib crack there. Think he'll get it?
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Oh, I got it.
Detention!
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Not coming.
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Poof! Lookit that! Those head-person detetions have MAGICALLY turned into my detentions!
Great Hall, 8PM Thursday night.
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