Prejudice

This Quidditch match had been far from smooth. A lot had gone wrong, and Harry had nearly been thrown from his new broom from thirty feet in the air.

After the match ended, he desperately wanted to find somewhere they could speak freely and discuss things. So after a brief celebration, he went with Ron and Hermione to Hagrid's hut.

It was the safest place he could think of.

Harry stepped forward and knocked on the door.

Whenever he had visited before, Hagrid had always opened the door right away. This time, however, they waited for a long while, and there was no sound at all from inside.

Not even Fang barked.

"No one home?" Harry glanced suspiciously toward the window, but the curtains blocked his view.

"That shouldn't be possible. I clearly saw Hagrid come back just now." Ron stepped forward as well, trying to peer through the keyhole. "I definitely wouldn't mistake Hagrid for someone else, right?"

"Maybe he and Fang went into the Forbidden Forest again," Hermione said.

But just then, the wooden door suddenly creaked open from the inside.

"Hagrid!" Harry looked up in surprise. "I thought you weren't home."

"Ah, something came up. I couldn't get away for a moment," Hagrid said guiltily. "Come in and warm yourselves up."

The three of them suspected nothing and hurried into the cabin.

It really was cold outside in November. The wind cut like a knife, and the room with its burning stove was far more comfortable.

Then they saw the other guest in the room.

"Silvan..." Harry said in surprise. "Why are you here?"

"As you can see." Silvan pointed at the enormous stick on the floor before him. "Doing some handiwork."

Only then did Harry notice the saw in Silvan's hand and the pile of wood shavings on the floor.

He did not quite understand, but he did not ask any further questions.

The three exchanged glances without speaking. Ron had originally wanted to say something, but he quickly changed the subject and began discussing the recent weather.

Harry and Hermione joined in as well.

Since they had not prepared anything beforehand, the three were completely forcing the conversation, moving from the weather to homework, then Quidditch. Each topic was more awkward than the last.

At first, Hagrid would chime in with a few words, but eventually he stopped talking too, and the atmosphere grew increasingly awkward.

Hermione frowned. She had noticed it from the start: Hagrid seemed very nervous, and his eyes kept darting in one direction.

Sometimes, even in the middle of speaking, he would unconsciously tilt his head that way.

Memorizing his movements, Hermione glanced in that direction too.

But all she saw was a burning fireplace and an old bedsheet hanging nearby. There was nothing else.

Strange. What was there to be nervous about with those things...? Hermione did not understand and wondered if she had been looking in the wrong place.

But the cabin was only so big. She looked around and found nothing out of place.

If she had to name something... perhaps Silvan counted.

He had not gone to watch the match today. He seemed to have been the only Gryffindor student who had not attended.

For the moment, she could say that he was not interested in Quidditch. There were plenty of students like that, herself included.

She had only gone to the match this time to cheer for Harry, or for her own House.

After all, Hogwarts rarely had such lively large-scale events. Opportunities like this were rare, and joining in was more interesting than staying in the deserted castle.

But Silvan had not gone, and it was not because he had anything important to do. He had simply stayed behind to carve wood.

Silvan and Harry could be considered friends, right? Hermione could not quite understand why he would skip a friend's match just to carve wood.

And Hagrid's strange behavior was also very concerning.

Her gaze moved back and forth between Silvan and Hagrid, but she could not make anything of it. The feeling was deeply uncomfortable.

Then there was Ron's poorly timed voice.

"Hermione, don't you think so...?"

"We can trust Silvan." Irritated, Hermione had no idea what Ron had been asking her, so she simply said, "Let's get to the point. There's no need to beat around the bush."

"Of course, we trust him," Ron said, his tone sounding somewhat stiff.

"What are you talking about?" Hagrid had finished brewing pine needle tea and set it before them.

"Someone is trying to hurt Harry, during the Quidditch match." Hermione said, "He nearly fell off his broom!"

"It was Snape." Ron stopped hesitating and turned to Harry. "Hermione and I both saw it. He was casting a spell at your flying broom, muttering under his breath, staring at you the whole time."

"Nonsense." Hagrid naturally did not believe Ron's one-sided account. "Why would Snape do something like that?"

"I don't know, but we really saw him."

"Maybe he was casting a counter-spell." Silvan, who had remained silent until then, suddenly spoke. "After all, casting a counter-spell also requires keeping your eyes fixed on the target."

"Silvan?" Ron turned to him in disbelief. "How could you..."

"Don't misunderstand. I'm not trying to defend Snape, only adding another possibility." Silvan cut him off directly. "Even if you don't believe it, given the current circumstances, that possibility cannot be ruled out."

Harry and Ron said nothing. Hermione stared at her teacup, deep in thought.

"You can keep talking. I'm heading back." Silvan stood and pointed at the wooden stick before him, now much thinner than before. "Hagrid, can I take this with me?"

"Sure, take it." Hagrid agreed without much hesitation.

It was only a piece of wood. Giving it to Silvan was no big deal.

"Thank you." Silvan used a Levitation Charm to control the wooden stick, carrying it past the three of them as he left the cabin.

Whether Snape had been trying to harm Harry or save him did not matter, because Harry already had his answer.

Prejudice in people's hearts was like a mountain. Harry's prejudice against Snape could form an entire mountain range.

Under such circumstances, even if Silvan told him the truth now, he would not believe it. Even if the real culprit admitted it personally, Harry would still hold on to a measure of doubt.

Of course, Snape had brought it on himself. Anyone would have been unable to endure the things he had done. The fact that Harry had not fallen out with him yet was already proof that he was too meek.

After putting the wooden stick back in his dormitory, Silvan headed to the Great Hall for lunch.

Not long after, Harry and the other two returned as well.

Perhaps because of what had been said in the cabin, they did not choose to sit beside Silvan as usual. Instead, they sat far away from him.

Silvan could understand that.

To eleven-year-old young wizards, what he had said earlier was no different from outright "defecting to the enemy." It was normal that they could not make sense of it right away.

But Silvan did not care.

Every day, besides attending classes and doing homework, he had to spend his free time at Hagrid's hut perfecting the wand core, adjusting and polishing the wand body, and carving magical runes into it. He was busy all day long. How could he possibly have time to pay attention to Harry and the others' feelings?