Chapter 33: Snape

After hastily bidding farewell to Hagrid, Silven picked up the package and hurried back.

As he passed the open ground before the castle, he saw Harry and the others.

Hermione was crafting a blue flame that could be contained in a bottle to keep them warm.

The Blue Bell Flame Charm, a special magical flame that wouldn’t burn the skin—only feel warm—was one of the most commonly used spells among wizards for warmth.

But “common” here meant adult wizards; very few first-years could master this spell. If Professor Flitwick had seen this, he’d surely have awarded Gryffindor five points.

Hmm… yes, a professor had seen it—but not Flitwick. It was Snape. And he wasn’t watching her.

“What’s that in your hand, Potter?”

“It’s ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.’” Harry held it out for him.

“Confiscated. Books from the library are not permitted outside the castle.” Snape snatched the book away. Judging by his demeanor, he must have been in a good mood—he didn’t deduct any points.

Silven walked past, intending to stay out of it, but Snape had gone too far.

“Stop, Ollivander. What do you have there?” Snape glided over like a giant bat, blocking Silven’s path.

“I bought something. The owl just delivered it.” Silven held up the brown paper bag.

Snape pursed his lips, said nothing, and didn’t invent a rule on the spot to seize Silven’s belongings, as he had with Harry.

He was targeting Harry alone—not all of Gryffindor. A pity he hadn’t managed to dock a few points for some amusement.

He was indeed in a good mood today.

But just as Snape was about to leave, he suddenly caught a familiar scent… the smell of blood.

As a Potions master, he knew it intimately.

In an instant, his gaze locked onto the brown paper bag in Silven’s hand.

“Open it!” Snape stared at Silven with grim intensity. “Now. Immediately. Don’t make me say it again.”

Silven complied readily, swiftly untying the bag.

Snape immediately leaned in to peer inside.

Harry and the others, whose book had just been confiscated, also crept closer, their faces filled with curiosity.

Then they saw it: several heart-shaped objects, the size of chicken eggs, dripping with blood.

“Eugh~” Hermione was the first to cry out, clamping her mouth shut, her face pale. The other two weren’t much better—Ron was even worse, nearly vomiting.

Snape’s expression was equally grim—but not because of the bloody organs.

As a Potions master, he dealt with such things daily. Even the rat spleens and toad livers students used in class were measured in barrels. This was nothing to him.

Snape was thinking of something else.

Hearts were rarely used in Potions; they were almost always tied to Dark Magic—including many famous curses, whose components required hearts.

Students studying Dark Magic had precedent at Hogwarts. He couldn’t help but grow tense.

“What is this?” Snape demanded sharply.

“The heart of a Redcap.” Silven replied.

“Why buy such a thing?”

“Because I have a use for it,” Silven said, glancing at him. “The Hogwarts rules don’t forbid students from purchasing Redcap hearts.”

Snape’s expression stiffened. He coldly said, “There’s a new rule now. You’d better tell me the truth.”

“Fine. I’m using it to make wands.”

“Liar!” Snape’s gaze pierced him. “No one has ever used a Redcap heart as a wand core.”

“I’m sorry, Professor Snape, but I believe you’re mistaken…”

Before Silven could speak, Harry stepped forward.

“We saw Silven make a wand with a Redcap heart nerve as its core.”

“That’s right,” Ron also stepped forward. “I saw it too. So did Neville and Seamus.”

Their tone was firm—clearly not lying.

This gave Snape pause.

He suddenly fixed his gaze on Harry’s eyes.

Since this was the truth, Harry wasn’t afraid of Snape. He met his stare without flinching.

But the next second, Harry instinctively lowered his head…

He didn’t know why, but just then he’d felt something deeply wrong—a strange thought, as if Snape could see straight into his mind.

Snape’s expression changed too. He looked at Silven as if observing a rare creature, muttering under his breath.

The words were too quiet to catch, but one phrase was barely audible: “It’s actually true…”

Silven twitched his lips… Snape had definitely used Legilimency on Harry. No doubt about it. He’d used it.

It was a strange feeling.

After all, Silven was the one who started this—he was the one who’d brought up the wand. Yet Snape had used Legilimency on Harry to verify his testimony.

Of course, Silven didn’t want to be subjected to Legilimency—no one did—but this blatant favoritism was glaring.

Then again, even if Snape had used Legilimency on him, he’d see nothing.

As a wizarding family that had endured for over two thousand years—and the only wandmaker family in Britain—the Ollivanders held too many secrets to lack memory-protection methods.

In fact, when Silven first opened the ancient, weathered book “Wands and Wizards” as a child, his memories had been sealed by a complex, dizzying magical array on the first page.

An array older than runes, a relic from Merlin’s era. The book itself was from that same time.

It functioned like a free, enhanced version of Occlumency.

Because not only was he immune to Legilimency—he was also immune to the Imperius Curse… provided it was cast by a normal wizard. Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, or Grindelwald were exceptions.

After all, it was over a thousand years old, and no one had maintained it. Minor flaws were expected. At least against ninety-nine percent of wizards, Silven felt confident.

On the other side, once Snape learned the “truth,” he quickly accepted that Silven could make wands from Redcap hearts.

As always: wizards who dealt with wands were not normal. Anything strange they invented was acceptable.

But acceptance didn’t mean the items stayed. A first-year student fiddling with bloody hearts in his dormitory was unacceptable.

“No more of this,” Snape snatched the bag. “From now on, you are forbidden from purchasing such items on school grounds.”

“Then what am I supposed to do when I need them?” Silven protested, already feeling the loss.

Redcap hearts weren’t expensive, but for Knockturn Alley wizards, delivering goods to Hogwarts was a risky transaction—requiring extra payment.

This package had cost Silven a Galleon—enough for a whole dorm to eat snacks for three days.

“I’m a registered wandmaker with the Ministry. I have the right to create.” Silven argued.

“That’s not an excuse to trade directly with Dark wizards,” Snape replied coldly. “You can ask a professor.”

“Ask you?”

Silven swore he’d only meant to provoke Snape, to needle him—but Snape paused, considered briefly, then nodded.

“Fine.”

(End of Chapter)