Chapter 55: Walking Into the Trap and Mitigating Circumstances

Spurred on by the Weasley twins, a long-extinguished notion began stirring again in Silven's heart.

By their account, Professor Sprout had been busy lately preparing for the upcoming O. W. L. s and N. E. W. T. s, and rarely had time to keep watch over the Whomping Willow.

This was a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity.

So that very night, the three of them slipped through the secret passage once more, ready to pull off something big.

"How's the situation looking…?" To make sure nothing went wrong, Silven glanced at Fred again before they got close to the Whomping Willow. "No professors around, right?"

Fred frowned slightly, studying a very old piece of parchment.

"What is it, has Professor Sprout come?"

"No, no." Fred shook his head rapidly at the words. "She's still in her office. It's safe here. I just spotted our little brother, that's all."

"Your little brother… Ron?" Silven said. "What's he doing?"

"The noble Weasley family tradition, of course." George looked up and winked at Silven. "Good lad, our brother — first year and already out on a midnight stroll with his classmates."

"I remember Charlie's first midnight stroll was also in first year."

"Bill too…"

"Oh, well, looking at it that way…" Fred grinned. "Percy really is the odd one out, isn't he."

"Maybe he's the neighbor's kid."

The two of them were getting more and more ridiculous, but Silven really had no mood to join them in discussing the provenance of Mr. Percy Weasley.

A first-year midnight stroll — as long as it wasn't Professor Sprout or Filch, it was fine.

Though something in his gut kept nagging at him, he had no time to dwell on it now — the Whomping Willow mattered more.

Silven drew a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the agitation in his chest, turned his head and instructed:

"Remember — the moment Professor Sprout leaves her office, tell me at once."

"You've said it eight hundred times already, relax." George tucked something pea-sized into Silven's pocket.

"What's this?"

"You'll find out when the time comes." Fred kept his eyes on the map, muttering softly, "Damn, why is everyone out for a midnight stroll tonight? We'd better move fast."

"Right." Silven didn't hesitate any longer. He strode up to the Whomping Willow and began jumping back and forth.

This was the new plan Silven had worked out.

He'd thought it through — his old method was safe, but far too slow. This time he'd decided to take a small risk and provoke the Whomping Willow head-on.

The idea had come from Fred and George. They'd mentioned before that whenever the Whomping Willow slammed its branches into the ground, it always snapped off a few of the thinner limbs.

Those thin branches were Silven's target.

Hogwarts didn't allow Apparition, so even if Professor Sprout noticed the commotion, she'd still have to run out from the castle first — that window of time was more than enough.

Silven's plan was solid, and the execution went off without a hitch. Goaded by his provocations, the irritable Whomping Willow began wildly thrashing its thick main branches like battering rams, pounding the ground with a heavy thud-thud-thud.

A few minutes later, the "pea" in Silven's pocket suddenly burst open.

"Quick, we need to pull out!" A voice — Fred's or George's, he couldn't tell — reached his ear.

Silven didn't hesitate. He hurled the stone in his hand, striking the knot.

The instant the frenzied Whomping Willow went still, Silven snatched up every broken branch at top speed, then turned and ran, diving into the secret passage with the Weasley twins, who were waiting by the Quidditch pitch.

The whole operation flowed like water — as if rehearsed countless times, without the slightest pause.

"Brilliant!"

"A smashing success!"

The three of them slapped hands hard in the passage, each face lit with barely-contained excitement.

"Quick, quick, count our haul." Fred said excitedly.

"Nine. I've already counted." Silven couldn't help but laugh as he spread his hands open.

Nine branches in all, some long, some short.

"Aha!" George threw his hand up in a vigorous wave, his excitement written all over his face… with these, they were one step closer to their dream.

"But how do we split them?" Fred looked at the branches. "By weight?"

"Sure, that's fair." George said.

"No need." Silven waved a hand grandly. "I'll take five, you two take four. Perfect."

By that count he was actually getting the worse deal, but since the haul far exceeded expectations, Silven couldn't be bothered about a little thing like that.

Fred and George cared even less, but they still took the initiative to grab the four slightly shorter ones.

They were third-years, after all — it wouldn't do to take advantage of a first-year, especially when the difference wasn't much.

All three were in high spirits. Even walking through the dark, cramped secret passage, their steps carried an extra spring of cheer.

Fred and George chatted as they walked, discussing how to use the branches, completely failing to notice that on that tattered piece of parchment, several footprints had suddenly appeared at the far end of the passage.

Silven, naturally, was even less aware.

Until they stepped out of the entrance — and came face-to-face with Professor McGonagall, who was in the middle of scolding Malfoy and Neville.

Twelve eyes met. Even the air seemed to freeze.

Ha, what a coincidence, isn't it?

Silven figured he must have been knocked out by the Whomping Willow and was now dreaming.

Otherwise, how could they have delivered themselves right to the professor? The Marauder's Map wasn't just for show.

Yes, that had to be it — he'd definitely been knocked out cold.

Silven tried to turn around and head back into the secret passage, but the next second…

"I cannot believe it — wandering about in the middle of the night! Do you have any idea what you're doing!"

Professor McGonagall's sharp rebuke made it painfully clear to Silven that he was wide awake.

"Professor, we know we've done wrong." Silven forced himself to stay calm. "We'll head back to the dormitory right now…"

"Halt! What are you holding in your hands?"

Although the three were trying hard to hide it, Professor McGonagall still saw what was in their hands. After a moment, her expression grew colder and colder.

"Branches of the Whomping Willow…"

"Professor, I, I can explain." Silven stammered, but couldn't get a single word out.

"You think this makes you brave, do you?" Professor McGonagall cut him off. "Provoking the Whomping Willow, carrying off its branches like trophies to show off — you think that proves you have courage?

"Foolish, utterly foolish. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? There aren't even many adult wizards who'd dare go near the Whomping Willow!"

"Ah?" Silven was stunned for a moment, then his eyes lit up and he said loudly, "We're sorry, Professor, we won't dare do it again!"

After speaking, he nudged the Weasley brothers beside him with his elbow.

At Silven's reminder, the two of them immediately caught on as well.

Compared to the trio having plotted together to steal branches, the excuse of showing off and trying to be brave was simply brilliant — one could even say it directly reduced the offense by one degree.

Oh, wait, it should be reduced by two degrees.

They were Gryffindors, after all — reckless little lions doing something show-offish and brave… it was simply too reasonable!

(End of chapter)