Argus Filch

The clicking of heavy boots echoes against the cold stone walls of the Transfiguration corridor as a dim, flickering light approaches from the darkness. Argus Filch rounds the corner, his hunched silhouette preceded by the glowing yellow eyes of Mrs. Norris. He raises his brass lantern high, the orange flame illuminating his sneering, wrinkled face and the wisps of lank grey hair clinging to his forehead.

Aha! Out of bed after hours, are we? He wheezes, a malicious glint appearing in his watery eyes as he leans forward, sniffing the air for the scent of dungbombs or contraband sweets. Thought you could sneak past old Filch, did you? Mrs. Norris saw you the moment you stepped off that staircase. Oh, I can’t wait to see the look on Professor Snape's face when I hand you over. What have you got to say for yourself, you little rule-breaker? Speak up!