Chapter 86: The Gap Between Wizards

Everyone decided to head back to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, and Silven went along too, though he was distracted the whole way.

"Hey, Silven, what are you thinking about?"

Silven felt someone yank hard on his arm and jolted awake, only then noticing they had already arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

But he was still walking forward out of habit, and if Fred hadn't been gripping his arm, he probably would have walked straight into the door ahead.

"Thanks," Silven said.

"You're welcome," Fred said, looking at Silven curiously. "But what were you thinking about just now? We were talking to you and you completely ignored us."

"Thinking about something else," Silven said. He glanced at Jin Ni, who was sneaking peeks at Harry, hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and asked anyway.

"Sorry, Jin Ni—did you happen to see a black-covered diary at Flourish and Blotts earlier?"

"Child, did you lose your diary?" Mr. Weasley, who was walking ahead, turned back and asked. "Did you drop it at Flourish and Blotts? We can go back and help you look for it."

"No, I don't know," Silven said dismissively, staring at Jin Ni the whole time.

The young witch scrunched up her face and thought hard for a moment, then shook her head. "I didn't see it, but if your name was written on it, I'd be happy to help you look."

Her expression was very serious—she probably wasn't lying.

"Ah, no need," Silven shook his head. "It's just an empty notebook, it doesn't matter if it's lost."

"If you don't mind, we could give you a new one," a man in formal attire walked over—it was Hermione's father.

Although Mr. Granger knew nothing about the Wizarding World, nor about so-called wizard families, he could tell that the boy had just been speaking up on their behalf.

By any measure of reason or sentiment, they ought to express their thanks.

A diary happened to be a decent opening—though he wasn't sure whether this little wizard would even use their kind of diary… Muggle? That should be the term, right?

"Ah, thanks." Silven didn't even register what he'd said, nodding absently again.

"Sorry, I might have some other things to take care of, so I'll head back first."

Silven waved his hand and, without waiting for anyone to say anything, turned and headed back to Diagon Alley.

He didn't go anywhere else—he went straight back to Flourish and Blotts.

By then the chaos had just subsided, and the shop assistants were preparing to restore the mess of a scene to order.

Silven joined in under the pretext of helping, while carefully examining every corner of the floor.

But by the time all the books had been returned to the shelves, he still hadn't found any trace of the diary.

The shelves, the counter, even the cracks—he'd checked them all repeatedly. Nothing.

How could that be?

Silven stood in the middle of the street, brows tightly furrowed. Things seemed to be unfolding a bit beyond his expectations.

He'd deliberately targeted Lucius Malfoy not only because he couldn't stand that pureblood-supremacist air of his, but also for another purpose… to provoke Lucius into handing the diary over directly.

He'd even deliberately picked up a book to hold.

Only Lucius, upon hearing his own name, seemed to have backed down a bit and didn't do that.

Maybe he was worried Silven would blurt out the fact that the Malfoys had once been Muggles too.

Only then did Silven realize he probably shouldn't have given his real name.

In the eleventh century, a young wizard from an ordinary family—Armand Malfoy—disguised himself as a regular knight, followed William I across the sea, and later used his wizardly abilities to crush a Muggle uprising, thereby earning special privileges—and only then did the Wizarding World's Malfoy family come into being.

Quite interesting, isn't it…

The Malfoys were originally a wizard family of Muggle origin. The status, wealth, and honor they now possess all ultimately trace back to a Muggle monarch's reward.

It's just that so much time has passed that almost no one in the Wizarding World knows this anymore… though that clearly doesn't include Ollivander.

Lucius was well aware of this too. Even though at Silven's current age, even if he said it out loud, people might not necessarily believe him, and it would be hard to shake the Malfoys' present standing.

But the cautious Lucius didn't want to take any possible risk, so he chose to back down.

"Oh, I should've just said my name was Silven Weasley at the time," Silven scratched his hair.

Lucius had been in a rage at the time—maybe hearing the name Weasley would've made him shove the diary over on the spot.

As long as he could get the diary, it wouldn't matter even if Draco exposed his identity.

But the result of Lucius backing down was not only that his plan fell through, but also that the diary that should've gone to Jin Ni vanished without a trace.

After leaving Flourish and Blotts, the unwilling Silven went to Knockturn Alley as well, but old Borgin likewise knew nothing about any diary.

He only said Lucius had sold him some dark magical items, and generously produced a list… Silven read it three times, and indeed there was no name related to a diary on it.

After all that running around, by the time Silven got back to the wand shop, it was already evening.

The dim, yellowish sky was just as gloomy as Silven's mood.

He wondered whether the diary had been picked up by someone during the chaos, or whether Malfoy had never brought the thing out in the first place.

Silven agonized over it for several days.

During that time he didn't even have the heart to peddle stickers—every morning he'd shove the work onto his grandfather and head off to Flourish and Blotts.

After several days in a row, the owner of Flourish and Blotts actually felt a bit bad—she kept thinking Silven was coming every day to help shelve books out of guilt over the brawl that day.

But the owner didn't think that incident had anything to do with Silven at all—he'd only said a few words, he hadn't thrown a punch; the real culprit was clearly Lucius Malfoy, who'd suddenly gone berserk.

And yet Silven came to help every day, while Malfoy couldn't even be seen, not even a single apology letter.

No wonder Ollivander is the oldest wizard family in the Wizarding World—just this composure and bearing alone is something those types who constantly chant pureblood supremacy can't compare to.

So every time Silven came to help, she'd give him a little something as payment.

It was a bookshop, so naturally what she gave was books.

A History of Modern Magic, The Practical Spells Compendium, and the Standard Book of Spells series (Years Three, Four, and Five).

All fairly popular books—among them, the Standard Book of Spells was also a Hogwarts textbook, corresponding to third, fourth, and fifth year. Giving them now was effectively saving Silven the cost of three books.

However, just as she was about to give him The Standard Book of Spells, Year Six, Silven didn't show up that day.

He gave up looking. With Harry around, he wasn't worried about not running into Voldemort's soul eventually—so why keep clinging to a single diary?

With that time to spare, Silven figured he might as well do something else—like figuring out what to do with that desiccated transforming lizard he'd gotten off a Death Eater.

(End of chapter)