What Snape Knows About Quidditch

What Silvan did not know was that shortly after he left, someone else approached from the other side of the corridor.

Snape walked up to the Gargoyle, spoke the password, and ascended the spiral staircase behind it to the headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was searching for something on a bookshelf and turned around upon hearing the movement.

"Severus, how rare. Is there something you need?"

"I saw Ollivander just now," Snape said. "So, have you finally decided to expel him?"

"I don't follow you." Dumbledore turned around. "To me, this was merely a minor accident. While it violated school rules, it hardly warrants expulsion. Besides, Minerva has already issued a punishment; she is the head of Gryffindor, after all."

"But what about the troll spine?" Snape said, unhurried. "Furthermore, I recall telling you that Ollivander also purchased a Red Cap heart from Knockturn Alley."

"You have purchased such things as well," Dumbledore said. "Yet you remain the head of Slytherin, Severus."

"We are not the same!"

"To me, you are." Dumbledore thought for a moment, then added, "However, a student going to Knockturn Alley to buy goods is indeed unseemly. Let us deduct five points from Gryffindor. I hope this punishment will help him remember to stay away from such dangerous places."

Snape's face turned as cold as frost.

Five points from Gryffindor? What kind of punishment was that? He deducted more than that from Harry in a single class.

He even suspected that the Gryffindor students wouldn't even notice they had lost five points.

"Do as you see fit." Snape couldn't be bothered to waste more breath. "Now, what about the matter I raised last time? Have you considered it?"

"You want to referee the next Quidditch match because of Harry?"

"That fool Potter will likely never realize that Quirrell is the one trying to kill him," Snape sneered, as if speaking of a brainless troll.

"The general counter-curse is only moderately effective. I must be close enough to Potter to ensure his broom doesn't malfunction again."

"You don't actually have to do this." Dumbledore opened the window and glanced at the Quidditch pitch outside. "I will be attending the next match. Quirrell will not dare to pull any tricks."

Snape did not speak, simply standing there, staring at Dumbledore...

"Very well, if you insist." Dumbledore compromised with a soft sigh.

"I will inform Madam Hooch. She will finally be able to watch the entire match from the stands in peace."

"A wise choice." Snape said, then turned on his heel. His black cloak billowed high, and he swept out of the headmaster's office like a giant bat.

He even pretended not to hear Dumbledore's parting words, "I hope you will be fair and impartial," as he slammed the door shut with a bang.

"What did you say? Snape is going to be the referee?" Once Oliver Wood broke the news, the Gryffindor common room erupted into chaos.

No one cared about Silvan anymore; everyone swarmed toward him.

Smashing up the dormitory last night and skipping class this morning—and Minerva McGonagall's Transfiguration class at that—had turned Silvan into a celebrity in Gryffindor.

Even though he explained repeatedly that he hadn't skipped class, it was useless.

Fortunately, the team members returned at that moment, and all talk of smashed dorms and skipped classes became trivial in the face of Quidditch.

"You've got to be kidding. When has he ever been a Quidditch referee?"

"It's a conspiracy. He'll never judge fairly."

"Let's go protest to Professor McGonagall!"

"It's no use, the headmaster decided this!"

"Then what do we do? Just lose the match?"

"There must be another way. As long as we follow the rules, he won't have an excuse to pick on us."

Everyone chattered away, discussing what to do. Silvan didn't join the fray, instead taking the opportunity to sneak back to his dormitory alone.

He wanted to avoid them coming to their senses and suggesting something terrifying, like him leading a revolt against Minerva McGonagall.

Although he wanted to learn how to become an Animagus, he didn't want to turn into some animal in a different way.

The commotion in the Gryffindor common room lasted until midnight, but by the following Saturday afternoon, the match began as scheduled.

Silvan had nothing to do, so he prepared to watch the game with the others.

As he sat in the stands, Silvan suddenly heard Hermione's voice to his right.

"Remember, it's the Leg-Locker Curse. Don't forget."

"I know," Ron said impatiently. "Stop nagging."

"Hm?" Silvan turned his head.

"For the sake of a fair game." Noticing Silvan's puzzled expression, Hermione whispered, "We discussed it last night. If Snape shows any sign of wanting to hurt Harry, we'll use the Leg-Locker Curse on him."

"Attacking a professor? Are you trying to see how easily Hogwarts expels students?" Silvan shook his head. "I understand your intentions, but it's unnecessary. Look at who that is."

With that, he pointed toward the teachers' stand.

"Dumbledore!" Ron nearly shouted. "Dumbledore is here to watch the match too! That's great. With him here, no one can hurt Harry!"

Both of them looked instantly relieved, simultaneously pulling their wands out from their sleeves.

As it turned out, just as Ron had hoped, Harry's broom didn't have a single problem until the match ended.

Though, perhaps there hadn't been time for any conspiracies, as the match lasted less than five minutes from start to finish. Silvan hadn't even finished his third roasted walnut.

After the cheers ringing through the Quidditch pitch died down, the crowd began to disperse.

While walking between the castle and the Quidditch pitch, Silvan kept his gaze fixed in one direction.

"What are you looking at?" Neville asked curiously.

"That!" Silvan pointed toward a massive willow tree near the greenhouses. It was much taller than an ordinary willow, its trunk gnarled and rough, radiating a sense of power.

The Whomping Willow, one of the most precious magical plants in the wizarding world.

He had been too shy before, but after half a school year, Silvan finally started setting his sights on the old tree.

He couldn't help it; he was bored.

After finishing that two-foot wand, Silvan always felt uninspired when making ordinary wands, as if he had lost his original passion.

He had no classes yesterday afternoon, and Silvan had intended to use the Red Cap heart he bought earlier, but he only managed to make two wands before his inability to concentrate led to an increasingly high failure rate.

In the end, he even considered doing his homework... he had actually thought about doing homework while crafting wands!

That was terrifying.

So, after feeding the rest of his materials to Tom, Silvan decided to find himself a new goal.