Chapter 63: The Grudge-Holding Three-Headed Dog

Although Silven didn't join them, the Weasley brothers, still unwilling to give up, snuck off that very night to find the Whomping Willow.

And then... there was no then. When Fang found them in the small hours, they were fast asleep on the road between the Whomping Willow and the castle.

One was lying face-down in the middle of the road, his feet propped up on his head; the other was five hundred meters away on the south side of the castle, face pressed to the ground, both legs hanging in a bush.

From these strange postures, it wasn't hard to tell they clearly didn't actually enjoy sleeping outdoors.

Hagrid thought the same. Hearing Fang's barking, he hurried over and carried them both to the school hospital, one in each hand.

Because it was still dark at the time, not many people knew about this.

Silven only learned the news the following evening, from other people.

After dinner, when Silven turned to visit them at the school hospital, the two didn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

"I got knocked flying in one hit," Fred even described last night's experience vividly. "It didn't hurt as much as I imagined, but the force was really strong, just like being hit by a Bludger."

"Right, we were the Bludgers," George stretched his head over forcefully and said. "Not a shred of room to fight back."

His injuries were a bit worse than Fred's — not only did the Whomping Willow break several of his bones on the spot, but when he fell from the sky afterward, he broke his leg too.

Madam Pomfrey was busy for ten minutes before she got all his bones set, then wrapped him head to toe in bandages, tight as could be.

"If Bill saw you looking like this, he'd definitely feel right at home," Fred said more than once.

Bill is the eldest child of the Weasley family, a Curse-Breaker at Gringotts in Egypt, whose daily work involves dealing with mummies inside pyramids.

If he were the one looking after George, it would probably count as a perfect match for his specialty.

"Speaking of which, hasn't your little brother come by?" Silven asked.

"Little brother? Who?" Fred blinked, asking in confusion.

"We only have one sister," George said. "But Jin Ni won't be able to start school until September this year."

"What about Ron?"

"Don't know him," the two said in unison.

Well, ever since they walked right into the trap last time and were caught red-handed by Professor McGonagall, they had unilaterally denied any family ties with Ron.

According to their version — the Weasley family simply doesn't have a kid that stupid; he must be an impostor.

Percy the tattletale at least still has good grades to his name, and Fred and George copied his notes plenty when doing homework.

Silven figured they were just displacing their anger — after all, the reason they got caught that night was largely their own carelessness too.

But Fred and George wouldn't hear it, insisting the root of all this was Ron letting Malfoy know the time of their nighttime outing.

"So Ron really didn't come by?" Silven asked again.

"Fine, he left just before you got here," George said. "He came with Harry and Hermione, but left pretty quickly."

"Are they planning to break school rules again?" Fred suddenly asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I could tell," Fred put on an unfathomably wise look. "They were distracted the whole time they were in the hospital wing, always huddling together whispering.

"I didn't hear clearly, just caught something about Snape, Professor Quirrell... Oh wait, they wouldn't be trying to pull off Professor Quirrell's scarf, would they?"

"Or maybe stick that scarf on Snape's head," George's eyes lit up at once. "Silven, you must know something... if we guessed right, you have to tell Ron — he's our dearest little brother."

"And tell him to definitely wait for us, we all go together," Fred said.

"We want to know what Professor Quirrell looks like under that scarf too."

"Mm... I'll try," Silven shrugged, noncommittal.

In a sense, the Weasley brothers guessed right — Harry and the others really were after whatever was hidden under Quirrell's scarf.

But probably no one would like that thing; best not even look at it, or you'd be liable to have nightmares.

"Why are you still here? Leave at once, they need rest!" Just then, Madam Pomfrey came over to shoo him out.

With no choice, Silven could only stand up and walk toward the hospital wing door.

"Oh right, if you want to find Ron, you could try the fourth floor of the castle," Fred seemed to suddenly think of something and called out loudly behind him. "They mentioned that place several times when they were whispering."

"Keep quiet!" Madam Pomfrey shut the door unhappily, blocking Silven outside.

Outside, the sky was already completely dark.

Silven returned to the castle, planning to head back to the common room first.

But when the staircase reached the fourth floor, he suddenly heard a furious roar, along with equally furious cursing.

"Damn beast... why isn't it asleep!"

Then the sound vanished, as if someone had closed a door, cutting off every sound inside.

That voice just now — it couldn't be Quirrell, could it?

At this time, in this place, it had to be Quirrell — but what did he mean by it not being asleep...

Driven by curiosity, Silven left the staircase and came to that familiar corridor.

A few months ago, it was right here that he had blown out two of the three-headed dog Fluffy's teeth, and delivered it a super-sized takeout.

For most wizards, the suffocating stench on a troll was pure torment, but if you swapped it for a three-headed dog, that smell might just be "fragrant beyond compare."

Thinking about it that way, it probably wouldn't come rushing out to bite him.

Silven wasn't sure either, afraid Fluffy held a grudge, and hadn't dared approach.

Just then...

"Fool, idiot!"

Another voice came from behind the door — shrill, cold, completely different from Quirrell's.

The wand in Silven's hand seemed to sense some familiar presence and suddenly began to tremble violently.

"I know you're eager, but ease up," Silven gripped the wand tightly. "The key character hasn't arrived yet — if we go over now, we're just handing ourselves over."

Soothed by Silven, the wand finally calmed down, and he looked up again at the door before him.

A pool of blood slowly seeped out from under the door...

Wait, didn't Quirrell trick Hagrid out of the three-headed dog's weakness using a dragon egg? A checkpoint you could pass through unharmed just by playing music — why is there blood?

Silven's expression instantly became a sight to behold.

Could it be that his earlier wand blast had cured Fluffy of his music-induced drowsiness?

Then Quirrell just now… oh, let's hope he's all right, and let's hope that Voldemort on the back of his head can pull his weight — it'd be downright embarrassing to be stumped by a dog.

"Aooo… woof… wooo!"

Seeming to catch a scent from outside, the three-headed dog behind the door began to growl again, its ferocity sounding even more savage than before.

"I knew it…" Silven let out a long, quiet sigh. The three-headed dog really hadn't forgotten him.

Fortunately it was locked behind the door right now — as long as he stayed out here, he'd be fine…

"Bang!"

A muffled, strange crash abruptly cut off Silven's thoughts. He instinctively turned his head, and the sight that met his eyes nearly froze the blood in his veins.

The door was open!

In the pitch-black corridor, three pairs of blood-red eyes were staring fixedly at him.

Even worse, Silven could clearly see that the three-headed dog still had half a torn chain hanging around its neck.

"***!"

In that critical instant, instinct made Silven's body react first — without the slightest hesitation, he turned and ran!

(End of chapter)