Chapter 139: Dumbledore Leaves the School

At dinner, Silven waited for Dumbledore in the entrance hall and told him that Hagrid was not the murderer of Moaning Myrtle—the basilisk was.

Dumbledore appeared greatly surprised, puzzled how Silven had learned of this.

“That happened fifty years ago.”

He said, “Almost no one in the school knows about it—not even some professors.”

Silven explained that he had repaired Hagrid’s wand, so he had taken special interest in the events of that time.

Dumbledore’s expression cleared with understanding. “No wonder the pumpkin last Halloween was so enormous—it was because you fixed his wand.”

“I wouldn’t say I fixed it,” Silven said. “I merely made some minor repairs. Headmaster, I just realized—the lavatory must be the entrance to the Chamber. Perhaps Myrtle saw the basilisk’s eyes and died from it.”

“Your speculation makes sense,” Dumbledore said. The candlelight on the wall glinted faintly on his spectacles.

“I’ve always believed Hagrid wasn’t the true killer of Miss Warren, but the fact remains—he kept a giant spider in the castle. That was the real reason he was expelled.”

“But many still suspect him.”

“That’s true,” Dumbledore nodded. “But we have no evidence, Mr. Ollivander. The Ministry won’t believe Hogwarts harbors a basilisk based on two unverified snake scales.”

“They need more direct proof—like a memory, or the actual basilisk. But we can’t find either right now.”

Silven truly had no solution. He couldn’t open the Chamber, and Harry, who could, couldn’t enter the lavatory.

As for memories… no one knew if the young Riddle could still provide relevant ones.

“I’m still glad you told me this, Mr. Ollivander. Hagrid would be delighted to hear it.”

Dumbledore walked past Silven. “But let’s hurry to dinner now. I suggest you try the orange marmalade pudding—it’s truly delicious.”

Hearing Dumbledore’s words, Silven wasn’t sure what he truly thought, but he didn’t press further and followed him into the Great Hall.

As Dumbledore had said, the orange marmalade pudding was indeed delicious—though overly sweet, as if extra syrup had been added.

…

In the days that followed, the three Gryffindors grew increasingly busy; few saw them in the common room, and Silven was the same.

But Harry and the others ran all over the castle, while Silven stayed in his dorm reading.

“Alternating Transfiguration”… that chained Transfiguration book was truly fascinating. Silven accidentally discovered that when he cast a Transfiguration spell on the pages while reading, the content changed depending on the type of Transfiguration used.

Normal reading revealed the “Advanced Transfiguration Guide” extended edition. When he cast a standard Transfiguration spell while reading, the original text vanished and was replaced with content on multiple transformations.

Multiple transformation meant first turning a matchstick into a needle, then the needle into a quill—that’s two Transfigurations, called secondary transformation. Turning the quill into a fork was tertiary transformation.

Silven wasn’t interested in that. He tried turning the book back into a porcupine.

The content changed again—now it was about human Transfiguration, with detailed information on Animagi.

This must be what Professor McGonagall truly wanted him to read. Why she hadn’t told him directly, and made him discover it himself—he didn’t know.

Perhaps she wanted to test him again.

Still, a single book with three different contents struck Silven as novel. Even after finishing it, he pulled it out daily to flip through again.

Until Monday, during Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall entered the classroom and ten minutes later announced that the exam would begin next week.

Silven then put away all Transfiguration-related books and took out his other textbooks.

Though he didn’t care much about exam scores, doing too poorly would look bad—he needed at least a passing grade (A) in every subject.

That grade might not be crucial, but it was still an important measure of a wizard’s ability.

Imagine if, twenty years from now, someone asked how Ollivander’s wand shop was doing, and a wizard nearby chimed in: “Silven Ollivander? He got a T (Troll) on his school exams.”

Hearing that, no one would want to buy a wand from him.

After spending over ten minutes searching, Silven finally found his other textbooks—especially “A History of Magic,” which was covered in thick dust.

Only then did Silven realize that since second year, he hadn’t opened “A History of Magic” once—not even during class, when he always read Transfiguration books and magazines.

Besides, Lockhart’s books were all piled in the corner.

That night, Silven began reading “A History of Magic” nonstop.

…

With the exam just three days away, students could be seen everywhere clutching books, eyes glued to the pages, even skipping meals and walking while reading.

Silven was one of them.

That morning, as usual, he went to the Great Hall for breakfast, silently reciting the contents of the Medieval European Wizarding Council.

Ten minutes later, the post owls flew in on schedule, dropping letters and packages into everyone’s hands.

Dumbledore also received a letter—and notably, it was delivered by a seagull, not the familiar owls.

“Ron, can seagulls deliver mail?” Harry asked in surprise.

“Of course they can,” Ron said. “Not every place likes owls. Some coastal countries prefer seagulls.”

Both turned to look toward the staff table. Silven lifted his head too.

Dumbledore took the letter from the seagull’s beak, glanced at it, and immediately stood up.

His face showed urgent concern. After whispering a few words to Professor McGonagall, he hurried out of the Great Hall.

Silven noticed he didn’t head toward the stairs—he walked straight out of the castle.

A few curious students slipped out to peek, then returned to tell everyone that Dumbledore had left the school.

“It’s true—I watched him walk out the castle gates,” Lee Jordan declared, surrounded by others. “Then he Apparated away.”

“Who sent that letter?” Fred asked with interest. “It made the Headmaster abandon his breakfast and leave immediately.”

“No idea,” George said. “But it must’ve been important. You saw his expression—it was serious.”

“I bet it came from the International Wizarding Union. I heard they use seagulls as messengers…”

…

With the exam approaching, the castle’s atmosphere grew heavier. A rare interesting event sparked immediate chatter among students—a welcome distraction.

Silven didn’t join in. He cared more about why Dumbledore had left the school at this moment. Did he truly trust his magic so much?

He glanced again toward the staff table. At the far end, Lockhart was chatting with Professor Sprout, looking cheerful—whether from the conversation or something else, he couldn’t tell.

…

(End of Chapter)