Chapter 29: Three-Headed Dog, Lupin

After parting ways with the Weasley twins, the Halloween feast was nearly ready to begin.

At this hour, professors and students were all in the Great Hall; not a soul could be seen outside.

Silven turned toward the stairs, but as he passed the entrance to the underground classrooms, he faintly heard a muffled sound and a faint, foul odor.

Clearly, the troll had been set loose—he had to move quickly.

Without hesitation, Silven immediately quickened his pace and sprinted upstairs.

His movements were swift, and the stairs cooperated perfectly; he reached the third floor with almost no effort.

"Meow!"

"Damn it, it's you again, you stupid cat—get out, get out right now!"

At the same time, a chorus of cat yowls and Filch's furious shouts suddenly erupted from upstairs.

The sounds grew fainter and vanished into the end of the corridor.

Silven seized the opportunity and swiftly reached the fourth floor.

This time, no obstacles appeared—he easily arrived at the locked door.

He drew his wand and tapped the lock.

"Alohomora!"

No response.

Well, this was exactly what Silven had anticipated… a door guarded by McGonagall in her Animagus form wouldn't be so easily opened.

Silven decisively sheathed his wand and pulled from another pocket a green, branch-like object.

The Tree-Boa, obtained from Hagrid.

As a wandmaker, Silven had learned how to deal with these little creatures since he was very young.

After paying the price of two earth toads, the Tree-Boa slithered into the keyhole.

Click. The door opened, and Silven exhaled in relief.

Fortunately, Dumbledore probably hadn't expected anyone to reach this far—only a simple anti-locking charm had been cast; had he been more cautious, Silven would have returned empty-handed.

Silven yanked the door open.

Though he had prepared himself mentally, when he actually saw the three-headed dog—ten feet tall, like a full-grown elephant—he felt his legs go weak.

Three pairs of darting, fierce eyes locked onto him at once; three drooling mouths opened simultaneously, saliva like sticky ropes dripping from yellowed fangs.

Startled by Silven's sudden intrusion, the dog didn't charge immediately—but the next second, all three heads let out ear-splitting roars.

Without hesitation, Silven pulled out the item he'd bought from the Weasley twins, tore off the coarse leather wrapping, and revealed a crudely made toy inside.

It was indeed a toy—Baruffio the Bouncing Harp, somewhat like a Muggle music box. Though less famous than The Tales of Beedle the Bard, it was still one of the wizarding children's childhood memories.

With the wrapping gone, "Baruffio" immediately began playing its harp merrily.

The moment the clear notes sounded, the barking ceased.

The dog's eyes drooped, it swayed unsteadily, then collapsed with a thud, fast asleep.

Looking at the dog, now lying like a small hill, Silven steadied himself and gathered courage to step forward.

As he drew closer, he could still feel the dog's hot breath—foul and nauseating.

Silven held his breath, circled behind the dog, and grabbed its tail, yanking hard.

The dog suddenly shuddered—Silven's heart leapt into his throat.

Fortunately, it didn't wake.

Silven patted his chest, mustered his courage, and tugged at several other spots.

He pulled away the longest hairs from the lower back, front legs, and dog heads.

The dog remained asleep; gradually, Silven's courage grew, and he reached toward the dog's wide-open mouth, gripping a tooth nearly three inches long.

This thing couldn't possibly be pulled out—Silven had another plan, but he had only one chance; he had to prepare in advance.

First open the door to create an escape route, then take the toy and erase all traces of his presence.

After completing all this, Silven pulled from his pocket a wand—a Half-finished product, its shaft nearly sealed, with only a narrow gap remaining.

"Forgive me, Lupin. I'll make it up to you later."

Silven silently apologized, shoved the wand into the dog's tooth gap, and completed the final assembly.

One,

Two,

Three…

Boom!

The wand exploded, followed immediately by the three-headed dog's agonized howl.

Though the dog had thick hide and tough flesh, a face-to-face explosion was unbearable—especially inside its mouth, unprotected by fur.

Several teeth were blown clean away.

Silven snatched them with lightning speed, pushed off hard with his feet, and sprinted out the door without looking back—slamming and locking it in one fluid motion.

Listening to the roars inside and feeling the lingering warmth on the back of his neck, Silven felt immense relief, leaning against the door as he gasped for breath.

Cherrywood, Redcap nervous tissue… what a fiery combination.

Though the process had been perilous, look at the harvest—it was all worth it.

Silven opened his hands: in each palm, he clutched a dog tooth nearly the size of his palm.

An unexpected bonus—mainly because the explosion had been far louder than Silven had anticipated, causing both teeth to fly loose.

No wonder Lupin's howl had been so agonizing.

Silven felt a twinge of guilt; when he had time, he'd visit the school kitchen and bring some meat as compensation—he wondered if the dog even got meals here.

But that was for later—now, the commotion had spread; he had to leave this place of trouble before the professors arrived.

Then Silven raised his head...

To be honest, he kind of wanted to curse someone out.

At the other end of the corridor, a troll roughly twelve feet tall stood there stock-still, accompanied by a violent stench.

He had been too nervous just now, his attention entirely on the other side of the door, and he hadn't smelled the odor at all.

But why was the troll here... Oh, right. In Quirrell's plan, the troll's target from the very start had been the fourth floor.

Without Harry and Ron in the way, it had naturally come straight through unimpeded.

After guessing the reason, Silven wanted to curse someone out even more, and worse still, at that moment the troll's ugly little eyes had also spotted him.

Without hesitation, the troll instinctively charged this way, raising the wooden club in its hand as it came.

Troll in front, the room with the three-headed dog behind him—Silven was trapped right in the middle, watching the troll's running speed grow faster and faster.

A straight fight... was definitely out of the question. Putting aside whether he could even win, the sheer impact of a twelve-foot behemoth charging at full speed was more than he could withstand.

No time to think. Silven gritted his teeth, slapped the keyhole hard, and shouted loudly:

"Open it!"

Fortunately, the Bowtruckle was still inside.

It had also seen the troll charging over, but it had been scared stiff. At Silven's prompting, the Bowtruckle snapped out of it and likewise unleashed its survival instinct, opening the lock even faster than before.

Silven yanked the door open, pulled the pointed hat hanging on his robe off with his other hand, and flicked his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The hat flew onto the troll's head, just covering its eyes.

The troll, blinded, instantly panicked and instinctively tried to stop, but a twelve-foot hulk doesn't just stop on command.

Not only did it not stop, it stumbled underfoot, and its massive, clumsy body pitched forward violently—straight, without veering, crashing head-first right through the open door.

(End of this chapter)