Chapter 50: What Does Snape Know About Quidditch?

Silven did not know that shortly after he left, someone came from the other end of the corridor.

Snape walked to the stone gargoyle, spoke the password, and ascended the spiral staircase behind it to the headmaster’s office.

Dumbledore was searching among the bookshelves when he heard the noise and turned around.

“Severus, this is rare. What brings you here?”

“I just saw Ollivander,” Snape said. “So you’ve finally decided to expel him, haven’t you?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Dumbledore turned back. “To me, it was merely a minor accident. Though it violated school rules, it hardly warrants expulsion. Besides, Minerva has already punished him—she is the Head of Gryffindor.”

“What about the troll’s spine?” Snape said calmly. “And I recall telling you before that Ollivander purchased a Red Hat’s Heart from Knockturn Alley.”

“You bought one too,” Dumbledore said. “Yet you remain Head of Slytherin, Severus.”

“We are not the same!”

“To me, you are the same,” Dumbledore said. He paused, then added,

“Still, a student buying things from Knockturn Alley is disgraceful. Five points from Gryffindor—that should teach him to stay away from dangerous places.”

Snape’s face turned icy, as if coated in frost.

Five points from Gryffindor? What kind of punishment was that? He’d taken more than five points from Harry in a single class.

He even suspected Gryffindor students wouldn’t notice they’d lost five points at all.

“Do as you please,” Snape said, tired of further words. “Now, what about the matter I raised last time?”

“You want to be the referee for the next Quidditch match because of Harry?”

“That fool Potter will never realize it’s Quirrell who wants to kill him,” Snape sneered, as if speaking of a brainless troll.

“The universal counter-curse is unreliable. I must be close enough to Potter to ensure his broom doesn’t go out of control again.”

“You don’t need to do this,” Dumbledore opened the window and glanced at the Quidditch pitch. “I’ll be watching the next match. Quirrell won’t dare play tricks.”

Snape said nothing, simply stood there staring at Dumbledore…

“Fine, if you insist,” Dumbledore relented with a soft sigh.

“I’ll tell Madam Hooch. She can finally watch the whole match from the stands without worry.”

“Wise choice,” Snape said, then turned on his heel. His black cloak billowed high like a giant bat as he flew out of the headmaster’s office.

He pretended not to hear Dumbledore’s words behind him: “I hope you’ll be fair and impartial,” and slammed the door shut with a bang.

…

“What did you say? Snape’s going to be the referee?” Oliver Wood announced the news, and the Gryffindor common room erupted.

No one paid attention to Silven anymore—they all surged toward the news.

Last night’s dormitory destruction, this morning’s skipping class—even during Professor Flitwick’s Charms lesson—this string of acts had made Silven a sensation in Gryffindor.

Even his repeated explanations that he hadn’t skipped class fell on deaf ears.

Fortunately, the team returned just then. Dorm destruction and truancy vanished into insignificance beside Quidditch.

“Are you joking? When has he ever refereed a Quidditch match?”

“It’s a plot—he won’t make a fair call.”

“Let’s go protest to Professor McGonagall.”

“Useless. This decision came from the headmaster!”

“Then what do we do? Just lose the match?”

“There must be another way. At least if we follow the rules, he won’t have an excuse to pick on us.”

The group debated loudly, but Silven didn’t join in. Instead, he slipped quietly back to his dormitory.

He didn’t want them to snap out of it and start saying something terrifying—like him leading a revolt against Minerva McGonagall.

He wanted to learn Animagus transformation, but not by turning into some animal in another way.

The chatter in the Gryffindor common room lasted until midnight, but by Saturday afternoon of the third day, the match proceeded as scheduled.

This time, Silven had nothing else to do, so he prepared to join the others and watch the match.

As he sat down in the stands, he suddenly heard Hermione’s voice from his right.

“Remember, Leg Locker—don’t forget it.”

“I know,” Ron snapped. “Stop nagging.”

“Huh?” Silven turned his head.

“For the match’s fairness,” Hermione whispered, noticing his confusion. “We discussed it last night. If Snape shows any sign of harming Harry, we’ll cast the Leg Locker on him.”

“Attacking a professor? Do you think Hogwarts won’t expel students easily?” Silven shook his head. “I understand your thinking, but it’s unnecessary. Look who’s over there.”

He pointed toward the teachers’ stand.

“Dumbledore!” Ron nearly shouted. “Dumbledore’s here too? Perfect! With him here, no one can hurt Harry!”

Both instantly relaxed and pulled their wands from their sleeves.

And as Ron expected, throughout the entire match, Harry’s broom never malfunctioned.

Or perhaps Quirrell simply didn’t have time to act—the match lasted less than five minutes from start to finish. Silven hadn’t even finished his third roasted walnut.

After the roaring cheers of the Quidditch pitch faded, people began to leave.

As Silven walked between the castle and the Quidditch pitch, his gaze remained fixed on one direction.

“What are you looking at?” Neville asked curiously.

“That!” Silven pointed to a massive willow near the greenhouses—taller than ordinary willows, its trunk knotted, rough, and full of power.

The Whomping Willow, one of the most precious magical plants in the wizarding world.

He’d been too shy before, but after half a year, Silven finally began to consider making use of this old tree.

What else could he do? He was bored.

After completing that two-foot wand, he’d lost all enthusiasm making ordinary wands—it felt hollow.

Yesterday afternoon, with no class, he’d planned to use up the Red Hat’s Heart he’d bought—but only managed two wands before his focus slipped and his failure rate climbed.

In the end, he even considered doing his homework… He’d thought about homework while making wands!

That was terrifying.

So after feeding all remaining materials to Tang Mu, Silven decided to find himself a new goal.

(End of Chapter)