Chapter 9: I Consider This Behavior Very Rude

After the topic of wands, the compartment fell into an uncommon silence, mainly because Hermione didn't quite dare keep talking to Silven, afraid he might upset Neville again.

Silven was happy for the peace; once the train wasn't jolting so much, he opened the book in his hands again.

Compared to chatting with Miss Know-It-All, wands were far more interesting.

This book had been given to him by Ollivander before departure, and much of its content opened Silven's eyes.

How to put it—the Ollivander Wand Shop had been going for over two thousand years now, even longer than Hogwarts's history, and what it had left behind was far more than just that one small, shabby shop on Diagon Alley.

Although the book in Silven's hands wasn't from the oldest batch—just a "new book" from over five hundred years ago—for him it was more than enough.

……

From morning to afternoon, the sky gradually darkened. When Silven looked up again, Hermione and Neville were already gone, and he was the only one left in the compartment.

"Arrived?" Silven instinctively looked out the window.

The sky was very low, a greyish haze, and felt somewhat oppressive.

But at that moment the compartment lights came on too, and under the dim yellow glow the window immediately turned pitch black—nothing could be seen at all.

Besides, Hermione had come back.

"Silven, you…" She opened the compartment door, slightly startled,

"What is it?"

"Ah, nothing." Hermione shook her head and explained, "I thought you were still reading, so I came specially to remind you to put on your robe quickly—we're almost there."

"Thanks." Silven nodded.

"You're welcome." Hermione said.

She had come back to fetch her luggage, and could remind Silven along the way.

But before she could even take her trunk down, Silven stopped her.

"No need—someone will carry our luggage for us."

"Are you sure?" Hermione was a little doubtful.

"Of course." Silven said with a smile, "If everyone dragged several big trunks along, the transport the school prepared might not be quite enough."

Hermione's doubts only grew.

She really wanted to ask what kind of transport it was, but just then the train had come to a complete stop.

"Please leave your luggage on the train; we will deliver it to the school for you." The voice echoed through the train, confirming Silven's words.

They really didn't need to carry their luggage.

"First-years, first-years over here!" Another unfamiliar voice called from outside.

"Let's hurry out too." Hermione said, watching in confusion as Silven took a small leather bag down from the luggage rack.

"Some valuable things are safer carried yourself." Silven slung the bag over his shoulder and covered it with his wide robe.

During this process, the occasional clinking and clanking of collisions came from inside the bag.

Hermione suddenly guessed what it was.

Probably gold and silver coins—if so, it really should be carried oneself. Her own money was all in her pockets, just not as much as Silven's, so she didn't need a separate bag.

That wasn't strange either—a wand family was the equivalent of an arms dealer in the magical world; they certainly weren't short on money.

Speaking of rich, she had just run into a boy supposedly from a very wealthy family, who had no manners at all, came with two sidekicks, and acted as if he wanted to lift his nostrils to the sky.

Compared to him, Silven's temperament was far better; when facing her and Neville he had always been very patient.

Just a little too hardworking—he had been reading the whole time on the train.

Although it was "casual reading," not textbooks, she couldn't help feeling a slight sense of crisis in her heart.

But Silven didn't know what Hermione was thinking; after changing into his robe he followed the crowd off the train.

Outside, a giant of a man was holding up a lantern and shouting loudly:

"…Sorry, Harry, I don't have time to talk to you more now, first-years come over here quickly."

Neville, who had gotten off first, was already beside him and now waved vigorously at Silven and Hermione.

"Over here, hurry!"

"Neville…" Hermione walked over quickly and asked, "Did you find your toad?"

"No." Neville's face instantly fell, "I asked every compartment—everyone said they hadn't seen Trevor…"

"Maybe he's hiding in some out-of-the-way corner." Hermione said, "Don't worry, I'll go find the driver right now and ask him to look for it when he's moving the luggage. The train is only so big—we'll definitely find it."

"Thank you, Hermione." Neville was so moved he was almost in tears.

He was truly moved—growing up, Hermione was the first stranger willing to help him like this.

But before they could even act, a shrill cat's cry drew everyone's attention.

On the other side of the crowd, Silven, gripping his pet by the scruff of its neck with one hand, forcibly pulled something out of its mouth…

A toad?

At that moment, a lantern appeared above their heads just in time.

In the lantern's light, Neville could also see the toad clearly.

"Trevor!" he cried ecstatically, ran over at top speed, and took the toad from Silven's hand.

"Thank you!"

"Don't mention it." Silven shook his head; he wanted to say more, but Hagrid had already come over.

An eleven-foot giant brought an impact on the new students that was beyond compare—everyone's eyes were drawn to him, Neville included.

So Silven said nothing more.

Under Hagrid's lead, the group began to stumble forward.

Silven walked at the very back, looking at Tom in his hand, whose face was written all over with defiance.

"I wasn't trying to steal your prey." Silven said, regardless of whether Tom could understand.

"... but Rafe is also a pet; strictly speaking, you two are half-colleagues. I personally believe eating a colleague is very impolite."

"Aow!" Tom howled.

"You think so too, right?" Silven said to himself, stroking Tom's head.

Tom was stunned—when had he agreed? He'd just been cursing a moment ago.

That was his prey!

Caught from the roadside bushes—how's that a colleague?

Besides, even if he were a colleague, he'd eaten plenty back at the pet shop. If you really counted his value, he was worth at least fifteen Galleons.

Unfortunately, Silven couldn't understand him and kept talking to himself.

"Before we reach the castle, we need to make a pact—don't eat colleagues, okay?"

"Aow!"

"If you eat me, I'll have to pay compensation—you know I don't have many Galleons, and all of them are already spoken for..."

"Ugh... Aow!" He struggled on.

"Of course, if you refuse to change, I'll just have to cut costs elsewhere... like trying whether half-blood magical beasts can replace the original wand cores."

Silven suddenly narrowed his eyes. "I remember the owls at Eeylops Owl Emporium all have a bit of catoblepas blood—that's why they're so smart. You probably do too."

"Meow~"

The pressure on his wrist suddenly lightened, then a soft, wet sensation spread over his hand.

Looking again, Tom—who had been thrashing violently—had suddenly become docile, now gently licking his hand, his sounds even resembling a normal cat's meow.

Still a bit coarse, with a feeling of wanting to pinch but not quite managing it.

But none of that mattered.

"Good Tom..." Silven smiled, stroking the cat's head. "I knew you could understand me."

(End of Chapter)