What a witty, clever, well-characterized delight of a story. Dudley makes a perfect caretaker, and I love the rough-yet-tender relationship he has with Millicent (and the fact that he is more sentimental than she is). They make a lot of sense as a couple. And as for Poppy and Filius -- ahaha! I don't know when I've seen a more effective use of place and point of view than Millicent in the fireplace. Minerva and Albus are a pleasure, too.
“Sod the bloody centaurs,” Millicent declared as she lay down beside him on the soft rug, “and the stairs and the Thestrals and the Whomping Willow and the toilets and the whole fucking castle.” I can just hear her. Such a great catalogue of ills /g/.
And now I want a complete story about Argus and the real Mrs Norris!