Chapter 97: Professor McGonagall Answers Questions and Resolves Doubts

Ron guessed right—the points Hermione and Silven had earned in Herbology hadn't even warmed their hands before they were docked, but not by Snape—by Professor McGonagall.

A dispute that began because of Lockhart ended with Lockhart slinking away in disgrace.

Ravenclaw was the biggest winner; originally third in the House standings, they had vaulted straight to first.

Oliver Wood was furious. He could hardly believe Professor McGonagall had banned them from using the Quidditch pitch—they were about to hold tryouts for new team members, and she was banning them from the Quidditch pitch?

"She can't do this!" Wood said after pacing the common room a dozen times. "If we can't use the pitch for two months, we'll definitely lose this year's match!"

Fred and George wore uncharacteristically solemn expressions.

"At least Slytherin can't use it either," George said.

"Ravenclaw's no concern, and Hufflepuff only has one Cedric worth noticing," Fred said thoughtfully. "Looking at it that way, things might not be as bad as we thought."

"If we can't train for two months, they'll all become tough opponents," Wood said. "I'm going to see Professor McGonagall. We'll all go tomorrow—she can't possibly want to see us lose the Quidditch Cup."

"Are you sure you can convince Professor McGonagall?" Fred asked.

"We'll have to try."

"Alright."

"Harry…" Wood called out. "You're coming too, right?"

"Yes, no problem." Harry, sitting in the corner, hurriedly replied, then glanced at Silven beside him.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that—what did you mean by a strange sound just now?"

"The kind you've never heard before," Silven said. "Cold, and it sounds spine-chilling."

Harry thought seriously for a moment. "Does Nearly Headless Nick count? Honestly, every time I hear a ghost speak, it gives me the creeps."

"No."

"Then there's nothing," Harry shook his head.

"Are you sure?"

"Um… I think so." Harry hesitated again.

Mainly because Silven's words were too vague, and there was no way he could remember every sound he'd heard on a normal day.

But from the look on Harry's face, Silven had already gotten his answer. He let out a small breath of relief, said nothing more, and went back to reading *Human Transfiguration: From Beginner to Master* on the desk.

This was the first book on the parchment, and probably the simplest, but the content was still harder than the *Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration*; Silven looked like he was struggling a bit.

He rubbed his sore eyes and began to understand why Professor McGonagall had advised him against learning Animagus transfiguration just yet.

……

The next morning, the Quidditch team members went to Professor McGonagall's office bright and early, only to run into the Slytherin team coming from the other direction in the corridor outside the door.

They had come for the pitch as well, but the one walking at the front wasn't captain Marcus Flint—it was Snape. He had actually brought the team over personally.

The Gryffindor players exchanged glances. Although no one liked the Potions professor who never distinguished right from wrong and always favored Slytherin, at this moment they couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy.

"Professor Snape." Oliver Wood stepped forward to greet him. "We…"

"Move aside." Snape wore his usual sneer, ignoring every Gryffindor player outright. Seeing this, the Slytherin players behind him all put on airs of insufferable arrogance.

"These guys…" Fred was so angry his temples throbbed, but there was nothing he could do.

Because Snape was right there; no matter how angry he got, he had to hold it in, or he'd only suffer a bigger loss.

"George, look at that person…" His sleeve was suddenly tugged. Harry pointed at the back of the Slytherin line. "That guy wouldn't happen to be Malfoy, would he?"

Fred followed his gaze and sure enough, among a group of burly Slytherin players, a blond head stood out conspicuously.

Draco Malfoy was wearing a brand-new team uniform, trying hard to straighten his back, yet still half a head shorter than the people beside him.

At the same time, he saw something even more jaw-dropping—the brooms in the players' hands were all shiny new ones.

Merlin's beard. Fred couldn't help licking his lips. So startled that he even forgot to correct Harry for mixing him and George up again, he hurriedly nudged Oliver Wood's sleeve with his elbow.

"Oliver, you…"

"I see them." Wood's voice was trembling. "All Nimbus 2001s, this year's latest model."

The Gryffindor team fell even more silent.

The best broom on their team was Harry's Nimbus 2000, and there was only one.

The others… Fred and George were still using Cleansweep Fives, a model over thirty years old.

Perhaps their gazes were too obvious; the Slytherin players across the way noticed. They exchanged glances, then in perfect unison turned their brooms around, deliberately flipping the golden "Nimbus 2001" labels outward, brimming with provocation.

Seven Nimbus 2001s pressed down on Wood like a mountain; a wave of helplessness quickly spread through his whole body. For some reason, a thought suddenly popped into his head—he hoped Professor McGonagall would stick to her decision and not let them use the Quidditch pitch.

That seemed to be the only way to douse Slytherin's arrogance.

Snape noticed this too. He let out a mocking laugh and knocked confidently on the office door.

As a colleague, Professor McGonagall should give him face. He was very much looking forward to the sight of Gryffindor being utterly defeated on the Quidditch pitch.

"Knock, knock…"

The sound echoed through the empty corridor.

"Professor McGonagall, they seem to be looking for you."

On the second floor, in a small room beside the library, Silven happened to glance outside and, through the half-open door, caught a glimpse of shadowy figures on the floor above.

"No, you're seeing things," Professor McGonagall said without looking up. She waved her wand, separated a portion of content from the magazine, and tucked it between the pages of the book.

"These articles should be of some help to you. Did you understand everything I said earlier?"

"More or less," Silven nodded.

He had pulled an all-nighter the day before, only finishing the thick *Human Transfiguration: From Beginner to Master* at dawn. There were parts he didn't understand, and quite a few of them, so Silven simply went straight to Professor McGonagall.

Then he was brought to this little study beside the library.

This was Silven's second time here. The first was last term, when he and the Weasley brothers came out of the secret passage carrying Whomping Willow branches and were caught red-handed by Professor McGonagall—it was here that two hundred points were docked from them.

Coming back felt rather familiar.

"I suggest you pair it with the *Intermediate Guide to Transfiguration* and the *Advanced Guide to Transfiguration*; the library should have both." Professor McGonagall handed the book back to Silven.

"There are some, but Lady Pince won't let me borrow that many," Silven said. "I'm planning to buy one at Flourish and Blotts."

Professor McGonagall nodded; this was something she couldn't help with either.

Lady Pince in the library, and Madam Pomfrey in the school hospital—as a rule, even Dumbledore, as headmaster, would not interfere with their thoughts and opinions.

In other words, if Dumbledore spoke loudly in the library or the school hospital, he would just as unceremoniously be thrown out.

Although if she insisted, she could make Lady Pince change her mind, there was no need for that.

In any case, Intermediate Transfiguration Guide and Advanced Transfiguration Guide were textbooks used in upper years, so he'd have to buy them eventually.

"You can use one of the school's owls to send a letter to Flourish and Blotts, and they'll send what you need over," Professor McGonagall reminded him.

"Any other questions?"

"No more," Silven shook his head.

"Remember to close the door properly," Professor McGonagall said. "Also, I'd like to handle some things in quiet today." She pointed at a thick stack of parchment on her desk.

"Understood," Silven said with a smile. "I'll be in the library all day today—I won't have time to chat with the team members."

Professor McGonagall gave an almost imperceptible nod.

Silven took his book and headed for the door, but as he opened it, he paused again.

"What is it?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"It's like this." Silven thought for a moment, then said: "Yesterday when I was borrowing books, I happened to come across a legend about a Chamber in the school. Salazar Slytherin left a monster inside it, one that would purge—"

"What utter nonsense." Silven was cut off impatiently by Professor McGonagall before he could finish.

"There is no Chamber in this school, and certainly no monster. Salazar Slytherin—do you think anything could live for a thousand years?"

"It seems there is…"

"Mr. Ollivander, I can help you with difficult questions on Transfiguration, but that does not include vague, unfounded legends."

Silven was cut off once again.

"If you still want to learn Animagus transformation, I hope you'll put your energy into books that are actually useful. Now then, you may go."

Silven stood in the corridor, looked at the door closed behind him, and shrugged helplessly.

Well, he should have expected that.

He then looked up toward the upper floor. The people who had been gathered outside Professor McGonagall's office earlier had already left, and Silven happened to see Snape riding the staircase down with a furious momentum, his gloomy face looking as though it could drip water.

Better not to provoke him.

Silven quickly averted his gaze and just happened to see Lockhart on the opposite corridor. He had changed into a pale purple robe, dressed up like a peacock, and was signing autographs for two young wizards.

But every now and then he nervously glanced up, as though afraid Peeves might suddenly spring out from some corner and dump another bag of flour on his head.

Hmm, seemed no different from before.

Silven yawned, planning to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast first, then go back to the dormitory to catch up on sleep. Today was the weekend, so he could sleep until noon.

……

(End of chapter)