Chapter 54: Cooperation

When it came to breaking school rules, Fred and George truly had a wealth of experience—Professor Sprout genuinely hadn't spotted them.

Although she and Hagrid later patrolled the area, it didn't amount to anything so dramatic as inspecting the student dormitories.

The only thing that bothered Silven was that Professor Sprout had become even more watchful over the Whomping Willow.

For a long while afterward, Silven slipped out through the secret passage more than once, hoping to repeat the trick and gather a few more Whomping Willow branches, but every attempt failed.

Each time, before he could even get close to the Whomping Willow, he'd receive a screeching warning from Scout Tom.

That meant someone was nearby—could be Professor Sprout, could be Filch, could be someone else—either way, it wasn't safe.

Then Silven would race back to the castle as fast as he could.

Fortunately, no one ever suspected a thing… Cats were among the pets Hogwarts permitted, and cats yowling at night was perfectly normal.

Even so, Silven was still thoroughly annoyed.

It was all the fault of those two reckless idiots, Fred and George—otherwise he could've gotten at least two or three more branches!

So every time he ran into those two, Silven never gave them a pleasant look, and Fred and George didn't complain in the slightest, because it really was the two of them who'd held things up.

After all, Silven had walked away unscathed with a branch that long, while they'd come back empty-handed and put Professor Sprout on her guard.

In the end, it came down to their own lack of skill.

Still, after this incident, the relationship between them and Silven did grow closer—it had the feel of having met far too late.

In Fred's own words: the Sorting Hat was absolutely spot-on; Silven was a born Gryffindor.

Naturally, this only made Silven angrier, and he tallied that grievance onto the Sorting Hat's tab. For a while he even considered whether to set aside the finished Whomping Willow wand body for the Hat.

Originally, Silven's plan had been to pair this wand body with another Acromantula leg, but once it was finished, he suddenly couldn't quite bring himself to part with it.

Maybe because he'd been looking forward to it for so long, an unprecedented enthusiasm had burst forth during the crafting… This wand body was simply too perfect. Not only were the essential qualities—flexibility, hardness, and the like—beyond reproach, it could even form a magical resonance with the carved runes.

Forming a magical resonance without a wand core added… put it this way, even his grandfather Garrick Ollivander, if he produced a wand body of this caliber, would have to swap in a unicorn tail hair of the very finest quality.

By comparison, an Acromantula leg was a bit of a stretch; if it were the brain or the heart, maybe it would be worth considering.

Silven decided to wait a while longer.

As for that Acromantula leg—if Silven could get a second Whomping Willow branch, he'd be happy to make another wand body, but for now… forget anything unrealistic, grapevine would do just fine.

But with that, the finished wand body could only be set aside for the time being.

Because the school year was nearly over, and with exams approaching, the professors had gone mad assigning homework.

Even the first-years, with the lightest academic load, were being tormented dizzy.

Maybe it was just the exhaustion, but Silven kept feeling as though he'd forgotten something—yet every time he tried to pin it down, he drew a complete blank.

After several rounds of this, he could only give up and keep burying himself in one magic book after another, night after night, struggling to finish the professors' assignments.

Until the weekend before exams.

"What, go chop the Whomping Willow together?" Silven stared at the twins in disbelief, unable to fathom why they'd even have such an idea.

"Do you think your injuries last time were too light and you want another pounding? And don't forget Professor Sprout still hasn't given up hunting for the culprit that day."

"Keep your voice down!" Fred glanced around, then pulled Silven off to a deserted spot.

"That's exactly why we've come to you to cooperate," he went on. "We've thought it over—you got that branch out without a scratch, so you must have some special method, some way of not being targeted by the Whomping Willow."

Silven pressed his lips together and said nothing.

"Relax, it's your secret, we won't press you on it," George said.

"Exactly," Fred nodded. "Just like you don't ask us how we know so many secret passages."

"But we can work together."

"What do you mean?" Silven asked.

Fred didn't answer directly, but asked mysteriously, "You've been out there several times before, but came back empty-handed, right?"

"Mm?" Silven raised an eyebrow.

"No need to deny it, we know," George said with a smile.

"Saw it with our own eyes," Fred said.

"And we also know you've got quite the luck."

"Professor Sprout was standing guard nearby those times—if you hadn't retreated the way you came, you'd have been caught on the spot."

"But you dodged it every time, lucky as could be."

Silven still said nothing.

He knew Fred and George had a magical map that could show the movements of every person in the castle, but he hadn't expected that map could display things outside the castle too.

In truth, Fred and George were equally astonished—Silven retreating without hesitation at every critical moment made them suspect he might have a Marauder's Map of his own.

But thinking it over, that didn't add up either—if Silven had a Marauder's Map, he never would have gone in the first place.

They puzzled over it for a long time without reaching any conclusion, and could only chalk it up to Silven's good luck.

"Just tell me what you're thinking," Silven got straight to the point. "How do we cooperate?"

"Professor Sprout can't stand guard forever—we know a window when the coast is clear," Fred and George didn't keep beating around the bush either.

"We guarantee no one will be anywhere near the Whomping Willow during that stretch."

"And the moment anyone approaches, we'll warn you straightaway."

"During that time you don't have to worry about a thing—just focus on gathering branches."

"But the haul gets split fifty-fifty."

"No way." Silven shook his head at once. "Thirty-seventy. I'm the one facing the Whomping Willow head-on—the job is more dangerous."

"Forty-sixty is our bottom line," George said. "Intel matters just as much—without knowing the exact timing, you'd never get a chance to approach the Whomping Willow."

The two were adamant, and after a moment's hesitation, Silven nodded.

"Fine, deal."

"Pleasure doing business, then?" Fred and George extended their hands at the same time.

"Perhaps," Silven said, looking at them, "but there are some things I need to make clear in advance — if I get caught by the professor, I'll definitely turn you all in."

"Oh, Merlin, you really should've been Sorted into Slytherin," George said, mouth wide open, expression exaggerated, but grinning broadly all the same.

"Too bad — you won't get the chance."

"Hopefully so," Silven said, and this time he too extended his hand, clasping theirs together.

(End of chapter)