Chapter 100

When Snape left, he walked right past Silven, allowing Silven to hear his words clearly.

Can Snape not undo a second-year student's Bogey Hex?

And Professor McGonagall didn't intervene either; after saying a few more words to Hermione, she simply walked away.

This is fascinating—one is the head of house most biased toward Slytherin students, the other is the strict, fair deputy head who treats all students equally; perhaps to Snape and McGonagall, a simple wave of their wands would easily dispel this Bogey Hex.

Yet the two reached an astonishing tacit understanding—neither lifted their wand, both pretending not to see.

So even after Crabbe and Goyle dragged him away, Malfoy kept spitting out bogeys, still shouting, "I'm telling my father," "You'll regret this," and other things—spitting even more.

Even Crabbe and Goyle found him repulsive now, holding his arms while tilting their heads as far back as possible, as if avoiding something unpleasant.

On the other side, Harry and his three companions had lost even more points and were given detention, yet their faces showed no sign of distress.

"Did you see it? Did you see my Bogey Hex?" Ron said excitedly. "I've wanted to do that for ages."

"You actually…" Hermione started to say something, then immediately bit her tongue and said instead: "Yes, that was a difficult spell."

At that moment, Harry noticed Silven nearby and his eyes lit up. "Hey, Silven, what are you doing here?"

"I ran into Nearly Headless Nick. He said Gryffindor and Slytherin students were fighting by the Black Lake, so I came to check. " Silven looked at Harry and raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect you to act so fast."

He'd only suggested Harry punch Malfoy yesterday, and today Harry had already done it.

"No no, you've misunderstood," Harry quickly waved his hands. "I never intended to pick a fight with Malfoy—he kept complaining he couldn't use the Quidditch pitch and said a lot of nasty things."

"Hermione thought both houses were to blame for that incident, so he called Hermione a… well, anyway, he started it."

"I can guess." Silven said, glancing at Hermione.

He probably still didn't fully understand the meaning of "Mudblood"—Hermione didn't look particularly angry; she even had the energy to review the battle just now.

"My Knockback Hex isn't refined enough—I almost let Crabbe get close."

"No, you did great," Harry said. "You hit Crabbe right on the head at the critical moment, and when he staggered back, he knocked over Goyle—that's how we won decisively."

"Harry, your punch was perfect," Ron grinned. "Malfoy was completely stunned—spitting bogeys and screaming."

"Don't mention it—I wasn't thinking that much then…" Harry glanced at Silven unconsciously. "I just figured using spells would bring severe punishment, so I might as well punch him a few more times."

Though punching Malfoy felt satisfying, Harry was still anxious thinking about the punishment ahead.

He'd already imagined the possible consequences: two hundred points deducted, permanent ban from Quidditch, even expulsion.

But he never expected McGonagall would only deduct thirty points total—ten each—which, compared to what they gained, felt more like a reward.

If you could punch a Slytherin student for just ten points deducted, Gryffindors would line up to do it—maybe even compete to answer questions in class just to earn more points and get more chances.

But this contradicts what Silven said earlier—they used magic, yet the punishment was negligible.

Silven noticed Harry's glance and guessed what he was thinking.

They were just lucky, seizing this rare opportunity. If Malfoy hadn't shouted "Mudblood," McGonagall wouldn't have deducted only thirty points, and Snape wouldn't have been so lenient.

"But we still have detention with Snape," Ron sighed suddenly. "He won't let us off easy."

"There's no help for it—he's Malfoy's favorite student. This is already good enough," Harry comforted him.

"You're right," Ron glanced at his wand, carefully wiping off a speck of dust. "Too bad your admirer Colin isn't here—if only he could've taken a photo of Malfoy."

Harry paused, surprised to find Ron's words made perfect sense.

The incident quickly spread through the school.

Gryffindor students cheered wildly, as if Christmas had arrived early; except for Percy, no one cared about the thirty points lost—they just slapped Harry or Ron on the shoulder and shouted, "Well done!"

"Malfoy's father is a school governor—maybe they'll all be expelled!" Percy said, but his voice was drowned instantly in the cheers, leaving not even a ripple.

Because Hogwarts' headmaster is Dumbledore—even governors can't override him to expel students.

So what's there to worry about?

Harry was delighted, drowning in sincere compliments.

More importantly, he hadn't seen the annoying Malfoy in days; if not for occasional classes with Slytherins, he'd have thought Malfoy had left Hogwarts entirely.

Without Malfoy's exaggerated taunts, Harry felt unprecedentedly light—even on Monday, during Defense Against the Dark Arts, when he played the snowman, he enjoyed himself thoroughly and performed with extra energy.

"Your snowman looked convincing," Silven said sincerely. "Better than the werewolf."

"Exactly," Ron gave a thumbs-up. "And your coordination with Hermione was great—I actually thought that was a Stunning Spell just now."

The group laughed and chatted as they left the classroom, heading to the Great Hall for lunch.

As they stepped into the cool entrance hall, a voice rang out: "You look pleased, do you? Potter, Weasley, and Granger…"

Snape approached with a stern face. "I'm afraid I must dampen your spirits—you three will stay for detention tonight."

Their smiles vanished instantly.

They'd been so happy these past days they'd completely forgotten about detention.

"What will we have to do, Professor?" Hermione asked, gripping her hands tightly.

"You'll go to Filch and clean the Trophy Room," Snape said. "No magic—wipe everything by hand. If you work hard enough, you might finish before your first class tomorrow morning."

Hearing this, Ron exhaled deeply. He whispered to Hermione: "I've done this before—three people can finish quickly. No need for that long."

"Three people?" Snape suddenly smiled. "I think you've misunderstood something, Mr. Weasley." His laugh was cold as a venomous snake, sending chills down their spines.

"You two—come to my office at nine tonight. I've prepared a special gift for you." Snape raised an eyebrow. "Remember—nine o'clock. Don't be late."

Harry and Ron trudged gloomily into the Great Hall; Silven beside them didn't know how to comfort them.

Snape's "gift" certainly wouldn't be something hanging on a Christmas tree.

Hermione, at least, was better off—though cleaning the Trophy Room alone was a huge task, it was still the best outcome among the three; at least she didn't face unknown fears.

At dinner, Harry and Ron speculated about what Snape had prepared for them; even meat-and-potato pie lost its appeal.

As nine o'clock neared, their expressions grew increasingly solemn—they felt less like heading to Snape's office and more like walking into a dragon's lair.

At eight-thirty, Hermione left the common room first; even under detention, she kept her habit of arriving early.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Ron finally shuffled out, dragging their feet.

"I'd rather play a snowman a hundred times…" Harry muttered, his voice fading behind the corridor.

"What do you think is waiting for them?" Fred asked curiously in the common room.

"No idea." Silven shook his head, "But whatever it is that made Snape prepare for two days, chances are it'll leave them with memories for a lifetime."

"I'm starting to feel sorry for Ron already." George said, though a grin kept spreading across his face.

"Don't say that…" Jin Ni looked worried, but whether it was for Harry or for Ron, that was hard to say… it might affect the Weasley siblings' feelings.

After the two figures had completely vanished, Fred realized something, sat up, and looked at Silven. "Something's off. Why didn't our future Transfiguration master go to the library today?"

Very few Gryffindors liked to stay in the library; apart from Percy and Hermione, Silven was the third. And he'd only suddenly taken a liking to reading after the term started — such an unusual change was bound to draw Fred and George's attention.

They couldn't understand it — last year they were partners-in-crime, sneaking out at night and breaking school rules together, so how come this year he suddenly wanted to study properly?

At first they thought Silven was just putting on an act, probably scheming up some new prank, but after sneaking peeks at him for a while, they realized that wasn't the case.

Silven was really reading, and all of it was books on Transfiguration. A few mornings ago, an owl had even delivered him a copy of the "Intermediate Transfiguration Guide," which they wouldn't use until third year.

"Did Lady Pince kick you out too?" George teased.

"Of course not," Silven said. "I just have something I want to discuss with you two."

"Looking for us?"

Fred sat up straight, and George tossed Lee Jordan aside and came over as well.

"Go ahead."

"As long as it's not asking us to go to the library with you."

"Otherwise Lady Pince will kick all three of us out," George said, laughing at his own joke first.

"It's something else," Silven said. "Do you still remember the wand stickers from the holidays?"

"Of course, we even bought some." Fred took out his wand and pointed at a Niffler sticker on it. "I've been wanting to ask you — why did it stop moving after term started?"

"Ah, that's not important," Silven said vaguely. "Afterwards I made a few upgrades to this kind of sticker. Now it works like this."

Silven took out the prepared Head series stickers, including a silver Dumbledore and a golden Lockhart.

"This is…"

Fred and George's eyes lit up at the same instant. With minds like theirs, the moment they saw the stickers, one thought sprang to mind — this thing was going to sweep Hogwarts.

It might not be true elsewhere, but at Hogwarts, stickers of the Heads would definitely be far more popular than magical creatures.

"So you want to collaborate, right?" Fred asked.

"Exactly," Silven nodded. "You know I'm going to the library, so…"

"Leave it to us!" Before Silven could finish, George said at once: "You can totally entrust this to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and we'll sell it on your behalf."

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"

"The name of our future shop. What do you think?" George asked with a smile.

"Sounds great," Silven nodded.

"Thanks for the compliment." Fred gave an exaggerated bow. "Alright, back to business. As long as you agree to let Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes sell this on your behalf, we guarantee that within just a few days, it'll be on every student's wand at Hogwarts."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Silven nodded. "So what's the price?"

"Well, that," Fred and George exchanged a glance and chuckled. "It's still early — we can talk it over properly."

(End of chapter)