Chapter 52: The Secret Passage and the Whomping Willow

The Hogwarts castle was quiet late at night, with only the occasional dim yellow oil lamp drifting lazily between floors.

"That's Filch on patrol."

"I do know that much." Silven glanced at Fred, who was acting as commentator beside him. "But can you really get outside the castle without opening a door?"

"George, looks like we're being doubted." Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Then let's show our new student what the Weasleys can do." George said, walking over and standing in front of a portrait.

Silven instinctively looked over. It was a landscape painting — endless wheat fields, herds of cattle and sheep, and a barn.

George reached out and slapped the barn in the lower-left corner three times.

Thump, thump-thump!

A person who hadn't been in the portrait appeared, cursing as he walked over and yanked the barn door open.

Then the portrait split down the middle, like an opened door, revealing a pitch-black passage behind it.

"Fred, you go first." George said, and the moment his words fell, Fred dove headfirst into the passage.

"Why not go in and take a look..." George looked at Silven and made an inviting gesture.

Silven didn't hesitate and stepped into the passage after him.

It was dark inside, but fairly even. Silven held up his wand and walked forward carefully.

After about ten minutes, a staircase leading up appeared in the passage, and Fred was waiting on it.

When Silven walked over, Fred raised his hand sharply and pushed open a trapdoor overhead.

A shaft of moonlight shone in from outside, and Silven knew they had left the castle.

"What are you waiting for, hurry up and go take a look!" George's cheerful voice came from behind.

Stepping out of the passage, Silven found himself in a fairly spacious room. By the moonlight coming through the window, he could see a row of lockers on the left and a long bench in front of them.

"The Quidditch team's changing room." Fred picked up a blue Quidditch robe hanging on a locker, glanced at it, then put it back.

"Too bad it's Ravenclaw's."

"We've been trying to talk Wood into switching changing rooms with Ravenclaw."

"But he never agreed."

"Why?" Silven asked curiously.

"Who knows, maybe he can't bear to part with our current changing room." George said, the last to come out of the passage.

"So, what do you think — one Galleon for a convenient secret passage like this, a pretty good deal, right?"

"A bit pricey, but worth it." Silven opened the door and looked out at the quiet Quidditch pitch.

"By the way, does Filch know about this passage?"

"Probably not." Fred thought for a moment. "The last time we used it was last year, to explore the Forbidden Forest."

"Then Hagrid caught us, and Professor McGonagall gave us a good scolding."

"But the passage is still here, not sealed up."

"So we figure Filch probably doesn't know about it."

"Though we can't rule out that he's doing it on purpose, trying to lure us back and catch us in the act."

"He pulls that kind of trick all the time."

Sounds like this passage isn't all that safe.

Silven frowned, feeling the Galleon he'd just paid was a bit of a loss, but then thought — what Fred and George described happened last year; even if Filch had patience, he couldn't have been watching for a whole year, right?

"By the way, if you want to go to the Forbidden Forest too, I'd advise you to come back with us right now." Fred opened the trapdoor hidden in the floor again.

"Even at night, Hagrid can always find you in that pitch-black forest."

"Consider it a bit of free advice from us."

The two finished speaking and dropped into the passage to leave — they had other things to do and didn't plan to act together with Silven.

"Noted." Silven said. He hadn't planned to go to the Forbidden Forest anyway.

The reason he'd chosen to come out at night was simply to avoid Professor Sprout.

Whether by coincidence or some other reason, every time Silven approached the Whomping Willow, before he could do anything, she'd show up quickly and chase him away.

And her reasons were perfectly sound — the Whomping Willow was dangerous, first-years were forbidden from approaching it — Silven couldn't argue back.

So he'd chosen to act at night and enlisted the Weasley twins, who knew all the secret passages, to help.

So far, things had gone fairly smoothly.

Silven walked out of the changing room. The clouds were thick tonight; only half of Hogwarts castle was bathed in moonlight, the other half shrouded in darkness.

Fortunately, the path was still visible.

Silven didn't bother hiding himself and soon arrived at the Whomping Willow's location.

The Whomping Willow now looked even quieter than during the day, standing there silently, appearing to be coated in a layer of silver frost under the moonlight.

As if sensing Silven's presence, several branches — dozens of feet long and as thick as a troll's thigh — suddenly twitched violently a few times.

The sheer force and heavy oppressive feeling that came rushing at him made Silven instinctively step back.

He picked up an egg-sized stone and hurled it forcefully toward the trunk.

The stone struck an inconspicuous knot, and the Whomping Willow, which had been restless just moments ago, instantly went still.

"Good." Silven reflexively glanced at the greenhouse beside him — no reaction.

Although the greenhouse was still lit, that was probably to accommodate the habits of some special plants, not Professor Sprout.

Silven let out a long breath and took out a wand from his satchel.

This was his first time taking a branch himself. Normally, wandmakers traded with Bowtruckles, but the Whomping Willow clearly didn't welcome those little fellows, so Silven had to do it himself.

He quickly climbed up the Whomping Willow and found a good spot.

Following the wandmakers' customary rule of not taking from the main trunk, Silven set his sights on a few drooping thin branches.

This spot is roughly equivalent to the thorns of a venomous fang geranium, or the roots of a Mandrake — it's there to increase lethality, and even if you remove it, it won't really affect the Whomping Willow.

Silven found a good position and gave a sudden, sharp wave of his hand.

"Diffindo!"

Sectumsempra — a low-spec version of the Severing Charm, mostly used for cutting fabric or trimming branches.

Accompanied by a shrill scraping sound, sparks flew off the branch.

It's really tough — Silven pressed his lips together, feeling as if he were cutting through a block of stone.

Fortunately, the spell wasn't completely useless; if you looked closely, you'd notice a coin-sized notch had appeared on the branch.

Silven pressed on, casting the spell twice more in quick succession.

"Crack!" The branch finally broke.

But at the same time, the Whomping Willow was also beginning to slowly wake up; Silven could clearly feel the trunk beneath his feet give a slight shudder just now.

Also, a window in the castle opposite had suddenly lit up.

Silven wasn't sure whether anyone had heard the noise of Sectumsempra. Without a moment's hesitation, he slid swiftly down the trunk, snatched up the branch from the ground, turned, and dashed into the shadows beneath the castle.

(End of chapter)