Chapter 52: Secret Passage and the Whomping Willow

Deep in the night, Hogwarts Castle lay silent, save for the occasional dim oil lamp swaying slowly between floors.

“That’s Filch on patrol.”

“I know that much,” Silven said, glancing at Fred, who was acting as guide. “But can you really get outside the castle without opening a door?”

“George, it seems we’re being questioned.” Fred raised an eyebrow.

“Then let our new student see what the Weasleys can do.” George stepped forward and stood before a painting.

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

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

Thud. Thud-thud!

A man who had not been in the painting appeared, grumbling as he walked over and yanked open the barn door.

Then the painting split down the middle like a door opening, revealing a pitch-black passage behind.

“Fred, you go first.” George said. No sooner had he spoken than Fred plunged into the passage.

“Why not take a look inside…?” George looked at Silven and gestured with an open hand.

Silven did not hesitate—he stepped into the passage as well.

Inside, it was dark but level. Silven held his wand aloft and moved forward cautiously.

After about ten minutes, the passage sloped upward into stairs, where Fred waited for him.

When Silven reached him, Fred raised his hand and shoved open a trapdoor above.

Moonlight streamed in from outside—Silven knew they had left the castle.

“What are you waiting for? Go see!” George’s cheerful voice came from behind.

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

“The Quidditch team locker room,” Fred said, picking up a blue Quidditch robe hanging from a locker, glancing at it, then putting it back.

“Too bad it’s Ravenclaw’s.”

“We’ve been trying to convince Wood to swap with Ravenclaw.”

“But he keeps refusing.”

“Why?” Silven asked curiously.

“Who knows? Maybe he’s just attached to our current locker room,” George said, the last to emerge from the passage.

“How about it? A Galleon for a convenient secret passage—worth it, right?”

“A bit expensive, but worth every Knut,” Silven said, opening the door and gazing at the quiet Quidditch pitch outside.

“By the way, does Filch know about this passage?”

“Probably not,” Fred said after thinking. “The last time we used it was last year, to explore the Forbidden Forest.”

“Then we got caught by Hagrid and scolded senseless by Professor McGonagall.”

“But the passage is still here—never sealed up.”

“So we think Filch doesn’t know.”

“But he might be deliberately letting it stay open, waiting to catch us red-handed when we come back.”

“He’s always pulling stunts like that.”

This passage didn’t sound very safe.

Silven frowned, feeling his Galleon might have been a bad investment—but then he remembered Fred and George had used it last year. Even if Filch had patience, he couldn’t possibly watch it all year.

“By the way, if you’re thinking of going to the Forbidden Forest, I’d advise you to head back with us now,” Fred said, reopening the trapdoor hidden in the floor.

“Even at night, Hagrid can always find you in the dark forest.”

“Consider it a free piece of advice.”

The two jumped into the passage and left—they had other business and had no intention of accompanying Silven.

“I’ll remember that,” Silven said. He hadn’t planned to go to the Forbidden Forest anyway.

He’d chosen to come out at night only to avoid Professor Sprout.

Whether by coincidence or some other reason, every time Silven neared the Whomping Willow, before he could even do anything, it would swiftly appear and drive him away.

And the reason was always solid: the Whomping Willow was dangerous; first-years were forbidden to approach. Silven had no rebuttal.

That’s why he’d chosen to act at night—and found the Weasley twins, who knew every secret passage.

So far, things had gone smoothly.

Silven stepped out of the locker room. Thick clouds covered the sky tonight; only half of Hogwarts Castle was bathed in moonlight, the other half swallowed in darkness.

Fortunately, he could still see the path.

Silven made no effort to hide himself and soon reached the Whomping Willow.

Now, the Whomping Willow looked quieter than by day, standing still under the moonlight as if dusted with silver frost.

As if sensing Silven’s presence, several branches—dozens of feet long and as thick as a troll’s thigh—suddenly jerked violently.

The raw power and crushing pressure rushing toward him made Silven instinctively step back.

He picked up a stone the size of an egg and hurled it hard toward the trunk.

The stone struck a barely noticeable scar on the bark. Instantly, the once-twitching Whomping Willow fell still.

“Good,” Silven reflexively glanced toward the greenhouse—no reaction.

Though the greenhouse still glowed with light, it was surely to accommodate the needs of special plants, not Professor Sprout.

Silven exhaled slowly and pulled a wand from his satchel.

This was his first time deliberately taking a branch. Normally, wandmakers exchanged with the Tree-Keepers—but the Whomping Willow clearly didn’t welcome those little creatures. Silven had to do it himself.

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

Following the unwritten rule among wandmakers—not to take from the main trunk—Silven targeted several hanging slender branches.

This position was like the thorns of a Venomous Tentacula or the roots of a Mandrake—added for lethality. Removing them wouldn’t harm the Whomping Willow.

Silven found his position and swung his arm sharply.

“Diffindo!”

The Cutting Charm—a low-tier version of the Severing Curse—commonly used to slice fabric or trim branches.

With a screeching scrape, sparks flew from the branch.

So hard, Silven grimaced—it felt like cutting stone.

But the spell wasn’t useless—if you looked closely, you’d see a coin-sized notch carved into the branch.

Silven pressed on, casting the spell twice more.

“Snap!” The branch finally broke.

But at the same time, the Whomping Willow began to stir. Silven could clearly feel the trunk beneath his feet twitch slightly.

Also, one window in the opposite castle tower suddenly lit up.

Silven wasn’t sure if anyone had heard the sound of the Cutting Charm. Without hesitation, he slid down the trunk, snatched up the branch, and bolted into the shadows beneath the castle.

(End of Chapter)