Chapter 54: Cooperation

On breaking school rules, Fred and George had truly extensive experience—Professor Sprout had never caught them.

Although she and Hagrid later patrolled the area, they didn’t go so far as to search the student dormitories.

The only thing that troubled Silven was that Professor Sprout had become more attentive to the Whomping Willow.

For a long time afterward, Silven sneaked out through secret passages more than once, hoping to repeat his trick and collect more branches—but all these attempts failed.

Each time he neared the Whomping Willow, he received a shrieking warning from scout Tang Mu.

This meant someone was nearby—perhaps Professor Sprout, or Filch, or someone else—anyway, it was unsafe.

Then Silven would return to the castle at top speed.

Fortunately, no one had suspected anything… Hogwarts permitted cats as pets, and cat cries at night were perfectly normal.

Still, Silven was furious.

It was all Fred and George’s fault—those reckless fools—if not for them, he could have gotten two or three more branches!

So every time he saw them, Silven gave them no friendly look; Fred and George bore no resentment, for indeed, they had dragged him down.

After all, Silven had retrieved that long branch unharmed, while they returned empty-handed and had alerted Professor Sprout.

In the end, it was simply that their skills were inadequate.

Yet after this incident, their relationship with Silven did grow closer, as if they had met too late.

As Fred put it: the Sorting Hat was incredibly reliable—Silven was a natural Gryffindor.

This only made Silven angrier, and he added this debt to the Sorting Hat’s tally; for a while, he even considered keeping the finished Whomping Willow wand core for the Sorting Hat.

Originally, Silven had planned to pair this wand core with an eight-legged spider leg—but once it was finished, he suddenly felt reluctant to part with it.

Perhaps because he had waited so long, he had poured unprecedented passion into its crafting… this wand core was simply perfect: its flexibility, hardness, and all other essential qualities were flawless, and it even resonated magically with the engraved runes.

To create magical resonance without even adding a core... put simply, even if his grandfather Garrick Ollivander had crafted such a supreme wand core, he would have traded it for the finest unicorn tail hair.

By comparison, an eight-legged spider leg was too inferior—perhaps only a brain or heart might be worth considering.

Silven decided to wait a while longer.

As for the eight-legged spider leg, if he could obtain a second Whomping Willow branch, he could make another wand—but for now… stop dreaming unrealistic dreams; grapevine would do fine.

Thus, the finished wand core could only be set aside for the time being.

Because the school year was nearing its end, professors had gone mad assigning homework in preparation for the upcoming exams.

Even first-years, with the lightest academic load, were driven to dizziness.

Perhaps because he was so exhausted, Silven kept feeling he had forgotten something—but whenever he tried to recall, he drew a blank.

After several such attempts, he gave up and plunged back into magical texts, night after night, struggling to complete the professors’ assignments.

Until the weekend before the exams.

“What? Go chop down the Whomping Willow together?” Silven stared incredulously at the twins, wondering why they’d even think of this.

“Do you think last time’s injuries weren’t enough? Want another beating? And don’t forget—Professor Sprout hasn’t stopped looking for the culprit that day.”

“Keep your voice down!” Fred glanced around and pulled Silven into an empty corner.

“That’s why we came to you for cooperation,” he continued. “We figured—you got that branch unharmed. You must have some special method, some way to avoid the Whomping Willow’s attention.”

Silven pressed his lips together and said nothing.

“Don’t worry—it’s your secret. We won’t ask.” George said.

“Exactly,” Fred nodded. “Just like you don’t ask how we know so many secret passages.”

“But we can cooperate.”

“What do you mean?” Silven asked.

Fred didn’t answer directly but asked cryptically: “You’ve gone out several times before, but always returned empty-handed, right?”

“Hmm?” Silven raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t deny it—we know.” George smiled.

“We saw it with our own eyes,” Fred said.

“And we know you’re lucky.”

“Each time, Professor Sprout was right there watching—if you hadn’t retreated the same way, you’d have been caught on the spot.”

“Yet you always managed to slip away.”

Silven still said nothing.

He knew Fred and George possessed a magical map showing everyone’s movements inside the castle—but he hadn’t expected it could show locations outside too.

In fact, Fred and George were equally surprised: Silven always retreated without hesitation at critical moments, making them wonder if he, too, had a Marauder’s Map.

But upon closer thought, that didn’t make sense—if Silven had the Marauder’s Map, he never would have gone out in the first place.

They pondered long and hard but found no answer, finally concluding it was simply Silven’s luck.

“Just tell me your idea,” Silven said bluntly. “How do we cooperate?”

“Professor Sprout can’t guard it forever—we know a window of opportunity,” Fred and George dropped the pretense.

“We guarantee no one will be near the Whomping Willow during that time.”

“And we’ll warn you the instant anyone approaches.”

“During that window, you need only focus on collecting branches.”

“But we split the harvest fifty-fifty.”

“No,” Silven shook his head immediately. “Three-seven. I’m the one facing the Whomping Willow directly—my task is far more dangerous.”

“Four-six is our bottom line,” George said. “The intelligence matters too—without knowing the exact timing, you’d never get close to the Whomping Willow.”

Their stance was firm. After a moment’s hesitation, Silven nodded.

“Fine. Deal.”

“Partners then?” Fred and George extended their hands simultaneously.

“Maybe,” Silven looked at them. “But I must be clear—if I get caught by a professor, I’ll hand you both over.”

“Oh, goodness, you really should’ve been sorted into Slytherin,” George gasped dramatically, grinning widely.

“Too bad you never got the chance.”

“I hope so,” Silven said, and this time he extended his hand, clasping theirs.

(End of Chapter)