Chapter 35: Snape, That Wastrel

After leaving the castle, the sky was already pitch black; when Silven quickened his pace and neared the Forbidden Forest, he saw Hagrid standing far off, gesturing wildly toward the forest.

“Go away, you nasty thing, go away!”

He seemed to be shooing away some creature.

“Hagrid.” Silven walked over and greeted him.

“Silven?” Hagrid turned his head, surprised. “You shouldn’t be leaving the castle this late—go back right away.”

“I came here specifically to find you,” Silven said.

“To find me?”

“Professor Snape wants you to go to his office,” Silven said. “Do you have time now?”

“Ah, of course—I’ve been waiting a while,” Hagrid said, showing no surprise at all, as if he’d expected this visit all along.

“Wait here for a moment—we’ll head back together,” Hagrid told Silven, then went inside to put on his mole-skin coat.

“I thought Professor Snape would send Filch, that old glutton, to find me—why did you come?”

“Maybe I just happened to be in his office,” Silven said. “What were you doing just now?”

“Chasing a cat,” Hagrid said, stepping out and taking down the oil lamp from the porch. “We ran into it in the Forbidden Forest—Fang just barked at it and got scratched; then the thing chased us out and nearly bit off Fang’s ear.”

As if sensing Hagrid was leaving, a sudden flurry of whimpers and scratching against the floor came from inside the cabin.

Through the door crack, Silven could barely make out a large black dog—perhaps a Newfoundland, or maybe a Neapolitan Mastiff; it was hard to tell from the narrow gap.

“Don’t be fooled by its looks—it’s a coward… Calm down, Fang, calm down, I’ll be right back,” Hagrid soothed for a long while before finally managing to shut the door.

He checked again carefully, ensuring not a single gap remained, then descended the stone steps and walked back to the castle with Silven.

Silven’s expression was strange now, his eyes darting, avoiding Hagrid’s gaze entirely.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen his own pet Tang Mu in quite some time—and that familiar, vengeful behavior, the kind that scared Fang into refusing to leave the cabin—could it really be… No, it couldn’t be Tang Mu.

Silven shook his head.

No matter how timid Fang was, his size was undeniable—Tang Mu didn’t even reach the height of Fang’s leg. How could he possibly have scared Fang into hiding?

Impossible. The thing chasing Fang had to be a cat-fox living in the Forbidden Forest.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, Silven quickly changed the subject as Hagrid continued scolding the culprit:

“Hagrid, why did Professor Snape need you so late? Couldn’t it have waited until morning?”

“That nasty cat… Oh, Professor Snape said the same thing—but I thought students might see it in the morning, so this time is perfect,” Hagrid blurted out.

But Silven’s interruption made Hagrid forget about the cat entirely; he unconsciously pulled up his mole-skin coat and gestured.

“That bone’s too long to hide completely, but breaking it feels like a waste.”

Listening to Hagrid’s muttering, Silven frowned slightly, sinking into thought.

Bone?

The one behind the desk?

But why would Professor Snape’s office have a bone? And that wooden stick behind the door…

At that thought, Silven halted. He felt he’d found the truth.

It was the giant that Quirrell had brought into the castle on Halloween—later locked away in the chamber with Fluffy!

The clumsy giant had stumbled right into the enraged, injured three-headed dog—its fate was obvious; it was almost certainly turned into a snack.

So what happened to the giant’s remains? Such magical creatures were valuable; the school wouldn’t just throw them away, nor return them to Quirrell.

The answer was clear… Snape had taken them.

Now he recalled—the strange alchemical ingredients in Snape’s office all seemed to be parts of the giant.

And the giant’s bones, too hard to cut or grind, were useless in potions—perfect for handing off to Hagrid.

Silven’s eyes grew brighter.

If this were true, everything made sense now… why Snape’s office had the giant’s wooden stick, why Hagrid had to come at night.

Carrying a pile of bones during the day would be terrifying—students seeing it would cause trouble.

Silven immediately looked up and spoke: “Hagrid…”

“What is it?” Hagrid asked.

“Nothing… nothing,” Silven paused, then shook his head. “I mean—we’ve arrived.”

They had climbed the stone steps and entered the castle.

“Then go back to your dormitory,” Hagrid said without further thought, then headed down the stairs toward the dungeons.

But Silven did not return to his dorm. He stayed where he was.

November nights were still cold—even the candles burning along the entrance hall walls seemed to have lost their warmth.

Silven encountered Filch. Though Filch disapproved of students wandering the castle at night, it wasn’t curfew yet, so he could do nothing but glare venomously from the side.

Silven suddenly missed Tang Mu—he wondered where that unruly cat had gone off to again. Next time, he’d make sure Tang Mu had a proper chat with Mrs. Norris.

They stood facing each other for several minutes before Hagrid finally came back down the stairs.

He carried a massive sack, one hand holding the large wooden stick, the other holding something covered by a large bedsheet.

“Silven, why are you still here?” Hagrid walked over and noticed Filch in the corner.

Hagrid had no patience for him.

“Go away—Silven hasn’t broken any rules,” he snapped, as if shooing away vermin.

“I’ll be watching you,” he growled, then cursed under his breath and left.

“Don’t worry—that old glutton won’t dare touch you,” Hagrid said.

Silven waved him off, unbothered; his eyes remained fixed on Hagrid’s hands.

“Hagrid… are those giant bones you’re carrying?”

“Yes…” Hagrid began, then immediately clamped his mouth shut.

“How do you know… no, I mean, this isn’t your business—go back to your dormitory.”

Silven had no intention of leaving—he’d waited here for more than just hearing Hagrid scold Filch.

“Where are you taking them?”

“I can’t tell you… Fine, I have to dispose of them—don’t ask anymore,” Hagrid said sternly, turning to leave the castle.

As he turned, the wind blew open the bedsheet, revealing a long, pale white bone beneath.

Judging by the sheet’s length, the bone was nearly five feet long—under the moonlight, it looked like a thick, coiled python.

In that instant, Silven’s eyes blazed—two spotlights in the pitch-black night, his lips nearly dripping saliva.

Good stuff. Good stuff indeed!

That wastrel Snape, that idiot with his cauldrons—how could he even think of throwing away such a treasure?

Mmm…

(End of Chapter)