Chapter 86: The Gap Between Wizards

Everyone decided to return to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, and Silven went with them, though he remained distracted the entire way.

“Hey, Silven, what are you thinking about?”

Silven felt his arm yanked hard—he snapped back to awareness, only then realizing they had reached the Leaky Cauldron.

He had been walking forward automatically; if Fred hadn’t grabbed his arm, he would have crashed into the door ahead.

“Thanks,” Silven said.

“No problem,” Fred said, studying him curiously. “But what were you thinking about just now? We called your name and you didn’t even respond.”

“Thinking about something else,” Silven said. He glanced at Ginny, who was sneaking glances at Harry, hesitated a moment, then stepped forward to ask.

“Sorry, Ginny, back at Flourish and Blotts, did you see a black-covered diary?”

“Child, did you lose your diary?” Mr. Weasley turned back from ahead. “Did you drop it at Flourish and Blotts? We can go back and help you look.”

“No, I don’t know,” Silven replied evasively, his eyes fixed on Ginny.

The young witch frowned, thinking hard, then shook her head. “I didn’t see it. But if it had your diary inside, I’d be happy to help you find it.”

Her expression was sincere—she wasn’t lying.

“Oh, no need,” Silven said, shaking his head. “It was just an empty book. Losing it doesn’t matter.”

“If you don’t mind, we could give you a new one,” said a man in formal attire—Hermione’s father.

Though Mr. Granger knew nothing of the magical world or wizarding families, he could tell that the boy had just been defending them.

Out of decency and principle, they ought to express their gratitude.

A diary made a perfect topic—but he wasn’t sure whether this young wizard would even use their diary… Muggle? That must be the term.

“Oh, thanks,” Silven said, not even registering what he’d been told, nodding off again.

“Sorry, I’ve got some other business. I’ll be going.”

Silven waved goodbye, before anyone could respond, and turned back toward Diagon Alley.

He didn’t go anywhere else—he returned to Flourish and Blotts.

The chaos had just settled; shop staff were preparing to restore the wreckage to order.

Silven joined in under the pretense of helping, carefully scanning every corner of the floor.

But even after every book had been returned to the shelves, he found no trace of the diary.

Shelves, counters, even the cracks—he checked them all repeatedly. Nothing.

How could this be?

Silven stood in the middle of the street, frowning. Things had slipped beyond his expectations.

He had deliberately provoked Lucius Malfoy—not only because he disliked the man’s pure-blood arrogance, but also to anger him into handing the diary to him directly.

He had even picked up a book to hold.

But Lucius had seemed to back down the moment he heard his name.

Perhaps he feared Silven would reveal that the Malfoys had once been Muggles.

Only then did Silven realize—he shouldn’t have revealed his own name.

In the eleventh century, a young wizard named Armand Malfoy disguised himself as a common knight, followed William the Conqueror across the sea, and used his magic to suppress Muggle uprisings, earning privileges that gave rise to the wizarding Malfoy family.

Interesting, isn’t it?

The Malfoys were once wizards from Muggle families. Their current status, wealth, and honor all originated from a Muggle monarch’s favor.

But so much time had passed that almost no one in the wizarding world knew this… though clearly, Ollivander was not among them.

Lucius knew this well. Even if Silven, at his young age, revealed the truth, few would believe him—it wouldn’t shake the Malfoys’ current standing.

But cautious Lucius refused to risk even a sliver of danger, so he chose to retreat.

“Oh, I should’ve just said I was Silven Weasley,” Silven muttered, scratching his head.

Lucius was furious then—he might’ve handed over the diary the moment he heard the name Weasley.

As long as he got the diary, even if Draco exposed his identity wouldn’t matter.

But Lucius’s retreat ruined his plan—and now the diary meant for Ginny had vanished too.

After leaving Flourish and Blotts, unwilling to give up, Silven went to Knockturn Alley—but old Borgin didn’t know anything about the diary either.

He only said Lucius had sold him some Dark artifacts, and even generously produced a list… Silven checked it three times. There was no mention of a diary.

After all this, Silven returned to the wand shop by evening.

The dim, yellow light matched his gloomy mood.

Had someone picked up the diary in the chaos? Or had Malfoy never brought it out in the first place?

Silven agonized for days.

During this time, he had no interest in selling stickers. Every morning, he dumped his work onto his grandfather’s lap and rushed off to Flourish and Blotts.

After several days, the shop owner felt embarrassed—she had assumed Silven was burdened by guilt over the fight and came daily to help tidy the shelves.

But she didn’t think Silven had anything to do with the incident—he’d only spoken a few words, never lifted a hand. The real culprit was clearly the suddenly insane Lucius Malfoy.

Yet Silven came every day to help, while Malfoy didn’t even show his face, let alone send an apology.

No wonder Ollivander was the oldest wizarding family—their grace and composure were beyond those who constantly preached pure-blood supremacy.

So every time Silven came to help, she gave him something in return.

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

*Modern Magical History*, *Detailed Explanations of Practical Spells*, the *Standard Spellbooks* (Volumes Three, Four, Five).

All popular titles; the *Standard Spellbooks* were even Hogwarts textbooks for third, fourth, and fifth years—giving them now effectively saved Silven the cost of three books.

But when she was about to give him *Standard Spellbook Six*, Silven didn’t come that day.

He stopped looking. After all, Harry was around—he’d eventually encounter Voldemort’s soul again. Why cling to a diary?

He’d rather spend his time on something else—like figuring out what to do with the dried, transfigured lizard he’d taken from a Death Eater.

(End of Chapter)