Timid Quirrell

Perhaps it was the shared experience of having points deducted, but after Halloween, the time Harry, Hermione, and Ron spent together began to increase rapidly.

Although there was still some friction between Ron and Hermione that kept their relationship from being inseparable, it was close enough.

At the very least, they had sat together in every class since Halloween.

The trio was beginning to take shape.

Silvan also found it quite magical... he didn't know if it could be considered the guidance of fate, but despite some slight deviations in the process, Harry had eventually found his external brain.

And then there was the incident in the fourth-floor room... Silvan had assumed the school would at least conduct a symbolic investigation, but there was absolutely nothing.

The professors seemed to have reached an agreement; they all kept their mouths shut regarding the three-headed dog or the troll, and anyone who asked would only receive an answer about a Peeves prank.

The whole affair was as if it had never happened.

Oh, except for Quirrell. He had taken leave and hadn't come to class for several days, with Snape substituting the entire time. According to him:

"Your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was frightened by a prank, and he needs to rest." His tone was filled with disdain and contempt for Quirrell.

He seemed to be in a good mood, occasionally making a little joke about Quirrell during class.

Correspondingly, however, Harry was not very happy.

Snape's dislike for Harry did not seem to change because of the different subject, and it even seemed to intensify. If Defense Against the Dark Arts required a lab assistant, that person would be Harry one hundred percent of the time.

If the textbook content didn't strictly require it, Snape would create the conditions himself.

The first thing Harry did when he opened his eyes every day was check his schedule. If he saw Defense Against the Dark Arts or Potions, he would curse Snape for five minutes and then remain listless for the rest of the day.

In a sense, Harry was probably the only person in the school who hoped Quirrell would get better soon.

After all, although Snape targeted Harry, his classes were indeed much more interesting than Quirrell's, and most people liked them quite a bit.

Harry's prayers seemed to have worked.

In the second week, Quirrell reappeared in Hogwarts Castle.

It was just that he looked even stranger than before, the most intuitive manifestation being the odd smell on him.

Before, it had been the smell of garlic, but now there was an added scent of rotten onions.

"This is knowledge I learned in a wizarding tribe," he explained during a Defense Against the Dark Arts class. "This scent can repel many-headed magical creatures."

Silvan had reason to suspect that the "many-headed magical creatures" he referred to was Fluffy the three-headed dog.

Harry had told him about what happened that day. He didn't know the specific details, but the part about Quirrell was crystal clear.

Simply put, he had been scared to the point of vomiting, all the way from the fourth floor to the hospital wing.

In a sense, being able to vomit for that long could be considered a special talent.

It was just that Quirrell wouldn't admit it, mumbling a few vague words to brush it off. When Ron impatiently asked him what had happened that day, Quirrell's face turned beet red, and he stammered, followed by things no one could understand—something about "care and prevention of magical creatures," and something about "guarding against colleagues."

He even brought up the weather and the school kitchen's onions, which made everyone roar with laughter, filling the classroom with a joyful atmosphere.

Unfortunately, this could not change the fact that Defense Against the Dark Arts had become boring again.

In this atmosphere, Hogwarts entered November.

The weather was getting colder, and most people had switched to thickened robes and cloaks.

Harry had been exceptionally busy these past few days because the Quidditch season had begun. The team members had to undergo special training three times a week, each session lasting over two hours.

As a novice who knew nothing, Harry's training volume was only higher, and he left early and returned late every day.

Fortunately, the first-year curriculum was light. In the gaps between his full-hearted preparation for the matches, Harry could finish his homework—provided, of course, that Hermione was willing to help him.

Harry was now incredibly grateful to have a friend like Hermione. Under the temptation of homework, he abandoned Ron without hesitation and chose to stand with Hermione.

This left Ron depressed for a long time, until one day, Harry snuck the homework Hermione had helped revise and placed it in front of Ron.

After that, Ron gave up the struggle and raised both hands in surrender.

Hermione's personality was annoying, but if she was willing to help solve this troublesome homework, she was the most popular witch in all of Hogwarts, bar none.

Silvan did not join the already-formed trio. These past few days, he had used the school's owls to purchase a batch of wand materials through his own channels.

Originally, he had wanted to ask his grandfather Ollivander for help, which would not only be convenient but also save a lot of money, but the owl couldn't find him.

The owl he had hired with three nuts flew a circle and returned the letter unopened; it hadn't found Ollivander.

Silvan wasn't too surprised by this result.

In fact, ever since Silvan had mailed off the Red Cap nerve wand overnight, his grandfather seemed to have become abnormal, such as sending back three consecutive pieces of blank parchment.

From Wednesday to Friday, there was a reply every morning, but there wasn't a single word on them.

It wasn't a letter written with special ink; it was just blank parchment.

Later on, he disappeared entirely, not knowing where he had gone to sulk, and even the owls couldn't find him.

There was no other way; Silvan had to grit his teeth and buy the items with his own money.

Fortunately, the things he wanted weren't expensive, and Malfoy's deposit helped a great deal.

By the way, Malfoy still hadn't come to find him, as if he had completely forgotten about it.

Then came the long wait.

It wasn't until noon a few days later that Silvan finally received the package he had been longing for.

At that time, he was chatting with Hagrid at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid had collected quite a few good things in the past few days: five unicorn tail hairs, a handful of centaur tail hairs, a small bundle of hippogriff feathers, and three two-foot-long spider legs...

Looking at so many good things, Silvan suddenly felt a bit guilty and couldn't help but reflect on whether his behavior of blowing up Fluffy's mouth with his wand that day had been a bit excessive.

Then, a package slammed into him.

A dusty owl dropped a kraft paper parcel and flew away without looking back, its service attitude being extremely poor.

However, Silvan just rubbed his shoulder where he had been hit and didn't care at all.

It was already rare enough that those people in Knockturn Alley had actually sent the goods after taking the money; who cared about service attitude?

"Such a big package, what did you buy?" Hagrid asked casually.

"A Dog Shut-up Stick..." Silvan blurted out.

"What?"

"Ah, nothing." Silvan waved his hands hurriedly. "I have to go back now. I'll come see you again on the weekend."