Chapter 148

"Expelliarmus!"

"Sssss…"

"Boom!" A flash of red light struck, and Harry sprawled face-first onto the floor, his face meeting the ground in intimate contact.

The fall was no light one; Harry was dazed, and after several attempts, he finally staggered back to his feet.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Silven walked over from the other side, picked up his fallen glasses, and pointed his wand at them.

"Reparo."

The cracks on the glasses vanished instantly.

"Thank you." Harry took the glasses and put them back on.

"Don't mention it." Silven shook his head. "How are you? Are you hurt?"

"Ow… No, no big deal." Harry rubbed his thigh. "But I feel like the magic rebounding off your book got stronger."

"Stronger… Are you sure?" Silven asked, slightly tense.

"Positive." Harry paused, then nodded. "I was ready for the rebound—I thought I could dodge it. But suddenly, it moved much faster. I had no time to react."

"And…" Harry glanced at where he'd been standing, then at the wall behind him. "Last time we practiced, I didn't fly this far."

Harry felt that last time, the Disarming Charm had simply taken his wand from his hand—this time, it had ripped it away by brute force, then kicked him for good measure.

It really hurt… He rubbed his thigh again.

Watching him, Silven strained to keep his lips from curling into a grin.

Perhaps because the fusion time was too short, Riddle hadn't vanished with the Basilisk's death—he still lingered, in part… as the misty substance around the Basilisk.

No, after fusing with the Basilisk's body, that substance was no longer Riddle's soul—it had become something else, akin to a Horcrux.

Silven merely tested it, and effortlessly merged it into the Soul Artifact Codex.

Nothing else changed, except the number of blank pages became fifteen—meaning Silven could now store or block fifteen spells.

That alone was already a great surprise, but now the power of the spells themselves had increased too.

He'd felt something off about his magic consumption earlier, thought it was an illusion—turns out it was because of this.

But he didn't yet know how much this change truly amounted to.

Silven quickly calmed down, wondering whether the increased strength of spells cast through the Soul Artifact Codex depended on his own magic, or whether it simply reflected the opponent's spell unchanged… and if it was the latter, was there a limit?

Silven unconsciously glanced at Harry.

Testing this wasn't hard—if Harry was willing to help, he could just get thrown across the room a few more times.

But seeing Harry grimacing and rubbing his thigh, Silven couldn't bring himself to ask.

"You've been a great help, Harry." Silven walked over and pulled out a delicate little box. "This is my thanks."

"Oh, no, no, no!" Harry waved his hands frantically. "You already warned me—I fell because I didn't take it seriously. And we're friends. Helping out is nothing—I can't take your gift, no way!"

Harry's refusal was firm.

Seeing his sincere expression, Silven felt even more reluctant to ask.

To be fair, though Harry was reckless, impulsive, gullible, brainless, and prone to tunnel vision, he was genuinely loyal to his friends—and showed up when it mattered.

In comparison, Silven, who wanted Harry to take a few more tumbles, felt decidedly less "Gryffindor."

"It's not anything valuable—just a set of wand maintenance tools. I've wanted to give them to you all for a while." Silven said, then pulled out two more boxes.

"I just remembered—please give these to Ron and Hermione."

Hearing the other two were getting gifts too, Harry finally accepted.

He opened it: inside was a thick black velvet cloth, a special wand wax, and a bottle of golden, oil-like substance.

"Thank you, Silven."

"You're welcome."

After giving away three gifts, Silven suddenly felt himself becoming more "Gryffindor."

Oh, no—

Silven froze. Why was he trying to become "Gryffindor" in the first place?

Watching Harry limp out the door, Silven shook his head and closed the dormitory door.

…

The next day, the exams began.

Officials from the Wizarding Examination Authority arrived at the castle; their leader was an elderly witch who looked older than Dumbledore.

In the morning, Silven sat in a stifling classroom, his exam paper already laid out, along with enchanted anti-cheating quills. A balding old wizard stood at the front, sternly watching every movement.

Silven thought it was utterly unnecessary—this was only a second-year exam, not an O. W. L. or N. E. W. T. Who would even cheat…

Before the thought fully formed, he saw the old wizard suddenly raise his wand and jab it sharply at a Ravenclaw girl on the left.

The large butterfly hairpin on her head sprang to life, fluttering into the wizard's hand—then transformed into a parchment covered in writing.

"Zero, Miss Thelwin." The wizard spoke without mercy. "You should be grateful this isn't an N. E. W. T. exam—you'd have been expelled the day before graduation!"

The girl named Thelwin covered her face and fled the classroom.

Someone actually cheated—and it was a Ravenclaw.

If it had been a student from any of the other three houses, catching them cheating would be understandable—but a Ravenclaw… among the cleverest students, could there really be someone who couldn't pass an exam?

Even stranger, after the exam ended, Harry told Silven in the Great Hall that their classroom had also caught a cheater: Viola Thorne—also a Ravenclaw.

He'd turned the parchment into a super-stretchy Bubble-Head Chewing Gum and nearly got away with it, until a witch named Marchbanks spotted him during her patrol.

Marchbanks was the witch older than Dumbledore—her full name was Grizelda Marchbanks, fully in charge of this year's Hogwarts exams, including the O. W. L. s and N. E. W. T. s.

Two cheaters were caught among the second-years—both Ravenclaws. Professor Flitwick didn't dare show up for lunch.

But what did they hope to gain?

Silven couldn't understand it—no one would vote against someone in the Ministry of Magic just because they'd failed second-year exams.

"Looks like you put too much pressure on them." Percy ate his own roasted potato and said to Hermione, "You were first in the year last year. Apparently the Ravenclaws were very unhappy about it — they probably think first in the year can only come from Ravenclaw."

"I didn't cheat." Hermione said.

"Of course you didn't." Percy said, "That's just how they are — always thinking they're a cut above the other Houses. There are already plenty of Ravenclaw students who won't even talk to me, because I'm first in the year too."

"Oh, Percy, I can't believe I never knew!" Fred opened his mouth wide in surprise, "You're actually first in the year."

"And first for six years running, no less." George chimed in quickly.

"How impressive!"

The two of them traded off complimenting Percy in unison, but their expressions were wildly exaggerated, and every line was dragged out in a long, long drawl.

"You two…" Percy's face flushed slightly.

"What?" Fred raised an eyebrow and, mimicking Percy's tone, said in mock solemnity, "Because you complimented the Head Boy, Gryffindor loses five points?"

"Deduct away." George took an unconcerned sip of pumpkin fizz, "Silven alone added two hundred points for us."

"And don't forget Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's hundred and fifty." Fred added, "You could deduct all day and it still wouldn't matter."

Percy was so angry he couldn't get a word out. After stewing for a while, he finally managed, "I'm telling Mum."

"Be my guest." Fred thought back to this morning's exam paper.

He figured it had gone all right — this time he ought to land a fairly passable grade, so Mum probably wouldn't be too angry, and that would be fine.

"But I'm curious — how do you know they stopped talking to you because of your grades?" George said with a smile, looking at the badge on his chest.

"Of course, of course someone told me." Percy's face went even redder. Especially his ears — they were almost the same colour as his hair.

"Maybe they just don't know how to chat with a 'Dumbletwit.'" Fred snickered.

At some unknown point, the lettering on Percy's Head Boy badge had changed to "Dumbletwit" again.

But Percy, seemingly completely unaware, ate a few more round bread rolls and then hurried out of the Great Hall.

……

(End of chapter)