Chapter 55: Walking Into the Net and a Two-Grade Reduction

Under the encouragement of the Weasley brothers, a long-dead thought in Silven’s mind began to stir again.

According to them, Professor Sprout had been so busy preparing for the upcoming O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s that she rarely stayed by the Whomping Willow anymore.

This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

That night, the three of them once again slipped through the secret passage, ready to pull off something big.

“How’s the situation now…” To ensure nothing went wrong, Silven turned to Fred again as they neared the Whomping Willow: “Are there any professors around?”

Fred stared at an old piece of parchment, frowning slightly.

“Has Professor Sprout arrived?”

“No, not at all,” Fred shook his head quickly. “She’s still in her office. It’s safe here—I just saw our brother.”

“Your brother… Ron?” Silven said. “What’s he doing here?”

“It’s the Weasley family tradition, of course,” George raised his head and winked at Silven. “No surprise our brother’s sneaking out on his first year.”

“Charlie did the same on his first year.”

“Bill did too…”

“Oh, so it seems…” Fred grinned. “Percy’s the odd one out.”

“Maybe he’s the neighbor’s kid.”

The two kept talking nonsense, but Silven had no interest in debating Percy Weasley’s lineage.

It was just a first-year sneaking out—so long as it wasn’t Professor Sprout or Filch.

Though a nagging feeling lingered in his gut, he had no time to dwell on it now—the Whomping Willow mattered more.

Silven took a deep breath, forcibly quelling his restlessness, and turned to warn them:

“Remember, as soon as Professor Sprout leaves her office, notify me immediately.”

“You’ve said it eight hundred times already, relax,” George shoved a pea-sized object into Silven’s pocket.

“What’s this?”

“You’ll find out when the time comes,” Fred muttered, still staring at the map. “Damn, why are so many people sneaking out tonight? We’d better move fast.”

“Alright.” Silven no longer hesitated. He strode up to the Whomping Willow and began hopping sideways repeatedly.

This was Silven’s new plan.

He’d thought it through: his previous method was safe but too slow. This time, he decided to take a small risk—directly provoke the Whomping Willow.

The idea came from Fred and George—they’d mentioned before that when the Whomping Willow struck the ground, it often shattered thinner branches.

Those thin branches were Silven’s target.

Hogwarts forbade Apparition; even if Professor Sprout noticed the commotion, she’d have to run all the way from the castle. That time was more than enough.

Silven’s plan was flawless, and execution went perfectly. Under his provocation, the furious Whomping Willow began thrashing its thick, battering-ram-like main branches, slamming the ground with thunderous thuds.

Minutes later, the “pea” in Silven’s pocket suddenly exploded.

“Hurry, time to retreat!” A voice—Fred’s or George’s—echoed in his ear.

Silven didn’t hesitate. He hurled the stone in his hand straight at the knot.

As the raging Whomping Willow instantly calmed, Silven snatched up every broken branch at top speed, then spun and ran, joining the Weasley brothers at the Quidditch pitch as they dove into the secret passage.

The entire sequence flowed like water—smooth, seamless, as if rehearsed countless times.

“Perfect!”

“Total success!”

The three slapped hands hard in the passage, faces glowing with uncontainable excitement.

“Quick, quick, count our haul,” Fred said eagerly.

“Nine. I already counted,” Silven laughed, opening his palm.

Nine branches total—some long, some short.

“Aha!” George swung his arm triumphantly, his joy overflowing—now they were closer than ever to their dream.

“But how do we split them?” Fred stared at the branches. “By weight?”

“Fine. Fair enough,” George said.

“No need,” Silven waved his hand. “I’ll take five, you two take four. Perfect.”

He was technically shortchanged, but since the haul far exceeded expectations, he didn’t mind a little loss.

Fred and George didn’t care either—but they still voluntarily took the four slightly shorter ones.

After all, they were third-years; they couldn’t take advantage of a first-year, even if the difference was negligible.

All three felt cheerful—even walking through the dark, cramped passage, their steps grew lighter.

Fred and George chatted as they walked, planning how to use the branches, utterly unaware that several footprints had suddenly appeared at the end of the passage on the worn parchment.

Silven, of course, knew nothing either.

Until they stepped out the entrance—and faced Professor McGonagall scolding Malfoy and Neville.

Twelve eyes locked. The air itself seemed to freeze.

Ha. What a coincidence, isn’t it?

Silven was certain he’d been knocked unconscious by the Whomping Willow and was now dreaming.

Otherwise, how could they have walked straight into a professor’s sight? The Marauder’s Map wasn’t a decoration.

Yes, that had to be it—he’d been knocked out.

Silven turned to retreat back into the passage—but the next second…

“I can’t believe it! Roaming around at this hour—do you have any idea what you’re doing?!”

Professor McGonagall’s sharp rebuke made it clear: Silven was wide awake.

“Professor, we know we were wrong,” Silven forced himself to stay calm. “We’re going back to our dorms right now…”

“Stop. What are you holding?”

Though the three tried to hide them, Professor McGonagall still saw what was in their hands. Moments later, her face grew colder.

“Whomping Willow branches…”

“Professor, I—I can explain,” Silven stammered, but nothing came out.

“You think this is brave, do you?” Professor McGonagall cut him off. “Provoking the Whomping Willow, carrying its branches like trophies, thinking that proves courage?”

“Foolish. Utterly foolish. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Even adult wizards rarely dare approach the Whomping Willow!”

“Ah?” Silven froze, then his eyes lit up. “Sorry, Professor! We’ll never do it again!”

He elbowed the Weasley brothers beside him.

At his cue, they instantly understood.

Compared to a premeditated theft, claiming they’d done it to show off was brilliant—worth at least a full grade reduction.

No, make it two grades.

They were Gryffindors—reckless little lions pulling foolish stunts? Perfectly reasonable!

(End of Chapter)