Chapter 56: The Forgotten Dragon

Soon, Professor Sprout arrived, her face flushed with anger—everyone had never seen this usually gentle professor so furious.

“This is too much…”

“Your Gryffindors are going too far!”

Silven and the Weasley brothers hunched their shoulders, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.

But her second remark was clearly aimed at Professor McGonagall, who instinctively looked guilty.

In fact, her words weren’t idle speculation—they came from experience; more than ten years ago, a student had done exactly this, and coincidentally, it was also a Gryffindor.

Back then, the Whomping Willow had only just been planted and was far less aggressive than it was now, so seeing the branch in Silven’s hand, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of dread.

Punishment must be given!

Professor McGonagall’s face hardened again.

Seeing her expression, and noting that the Whomping Willow had not damaged its main trunk, Professor Sprout said nothing more; she glanced at Silven and the Weasley brothers, then hurried away.

“You—” Professor McGonagall was about to speak again, but was cut off by a harsh shout.

“Come here at once, don’t dawdle—you’re not getting out of this.”

The voice came from the staircase.

It was Filch, followed by three slumped, listless students.

Harry, Ron, Hermione…

“Professor McGonagall, I caught three students out of bed after hours,” Filch said excitedly, completely oblivious to McGonagall’s near-fainting expression.

This night had been too much for her—eight students out after hours, seven of them Gryffindors.

Professor McGonagall felt the world spin; she swayed a few steps before regaining her balance.

“Thank you, Filch.”

After dismissing Filch, Professor McGonagall turned and took a deep breath. “You four—come with me!”

She couldn’t bear to stay here another moment, fearing two more Gryffindors might appear at any second.

So she led them to the second-floor study, her usual place for reading and magazines—effectively her second office.

Once the door was shut, she stared coldly at the three newcomers.

“Now, explain yourselves…”

“Professor, they’ve got a dragon!”

Before the three could speak, the only Slytherin present, Malfoy, blurted out: “They’re illegally keeping a dragon, and planned to send it off tonight—to a Charlie Weasley.”

“Absolute nonsense!” Professor McGonagall snapped. “A dragon… how dare you make up such a lie.”

“I didn’t—”

“You may go now,” McGonagall cut him off. “I’ll inform Snape. Let’s see how he deals with you.”

“Go back to your dormitory—now!”

Malfoy clearly resented it, but dared not defy McGonagall; he opened the door with a grumble and left—so much as slamming it, he didn’t dare; he closed it gently.

“Now it’s your turn,” Professor McGonagall said, her voice weary.

“You concocted a whole lie about a dragon to trick Draco Malfoy out of bed—you must’ve found it hilarious—and then Longbottom heard it and believed it too.”

All three turned to look at Neville.

“I—I was looking for you…” Neville blurted. “I wanted to warn you—I heard Malfoy say he was coming to catch you…”

“Enough!” Professor McGonagall snapped. Neville fell silent at once.

“I’m furious—a whole night, seven students awake. I’ve never heard of such a thing. You… never mind.”

Professor McGonagall looked from Hermione to Harry to Silven, as if about to say something, then wearily waved her hand.

“Detention—you’ll all serve detention. And fifty points deducted from each—” She stopped abruptly.

Professor McGonagall did a quick calculation: if she imposed her original penalty, Gryffindor would have no chance left of winning the House Cup.

“Two hundred,” she said. “Gryffindor will lose two hundred points because of you.”

“Two hundred?” Harry gasped, as if suffocating—suddenly from first to last, they’d become pariahs.

The others felt the same; even Fred and George, who were always losing points, looked utterly bewildered.

None of them had ever heard of someone losing two hundred points at once.

As for Silven, he had stood frozen since the deduction began.

“Professor… please…”

“You can’t…”

“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do. Now, get back to your dormitory. I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students than I am right now.”

The group left in a daze, but Silven remained standing, as if stunned.

Professor McGonagall could tell he wasn’t pretending; for a moment, she felt a pang of sympathy.

He’d clearly been led astray by the Weasley twins—just never imagined the consequences would be this severe.

But regardless, he had broken school rules by sneaking out at night—he must be punished.

In the end, Silven didn’t even remember how the Weasley twins and Harry dragged him back to the dorm.

His mind held only one thought—Harry and the others were sending off a dragon tonight…

After hearing Neville’s words, he finally remembered what he’d forgotten.

A dragon!

Quirrell had deliberately lost a card game to Hagrid, winning a dragon egg in return—and then tricked him into revealing how to get past Fluffy.

Hagrid had placed that dragon egg in the fireplace to hatch—it was a rare Norwegian Ridgeback.

It should have been during the Easter holidays, but back then, Silven had been entirely focused on the Whomping Willow wand, and had completely forgotten the whole thing.

“Oh!” Silven groaned involuntarily.

Now he remembered—everything. But the Norwegian Ridgeback had already been sent away.

Every time he thought of it, Silven felt his heart bleed.

It had been a whole, living Norwegian Ridgeback.

Though Silven knew deep down Hagrid would never give him the dragon as a wand core, what if…

What if the Norwegian Ridgeback had spare scales, dragon sinew, dragon heartstring—or even just dragonfire, one of the best ways to cure Whomping Willow wood?

Oh, speaking of the Whomping Willow—all the branches Silven had picked up tonight had been confiscated by Professor McGonagall, not a single one left.

It hurt even more!

Silven tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep.

Harry’s dorm seemed awake too—Silven could clearly hear Neville’s sniffles and Ron’s complaints.

“It’s all because of that damn tree! Professor Sprout’s been guarding it outside all night—we could’ve written to Charlie ten days ago!”

…

(End of Chapter)