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Harry's mind had been consumed by thoughts of the Philosopher's Stone and Professor Snape. Ever since he overheard Quirrell speaking in his office, Harry had been convinced that Snape was threatening him, forcing him to reveal how to reach the Stone. Now, more than ever, Harry believed Snape intended to steal it.
Exams were approaching, and under Hermione's relentless insistence, Harry had managed to squeeze in some last-minute revision—though he still thought it was a waste of time. Today was Thursday, the final day of exams.
When they finished their last paper—History of Magic—Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurriedly cornered Solim in the Great Hall. They had just learned that Dumbledore had left Hogwarts. That meant the Philosopher's Stone was more vulnerable than ever.
Harry and Ron were certain that Snape would make his move tonight.
"I've got it all figured out, Solim!" Harry burst out, speaking so fast he barely had time to breathe. "Do you remember Hagrid's dragon? Snape must have tricked Hagrid into revealing how to get past Jamie. I've seen him threaten Professor Quirrell—he must already know how to pass all the protections. And now that Dumbledore's gone, Snape's bound to try tonight! We have to act before it's too late!"
Harry's anxiety was written all over his face. Seeing how worked up he was, Solim didn't tease him as he usually would. Instead, he calmly reached into his robe and pulled out a few objects.
"Take these," he said, handing one to each of them. "They'll help you—but you'd better return them afterward. And if they get damaged, you'll compensate me for them, at full price."
He gave Harry a simple silver ring imbued with a polymorph charm—it could transform into a knife when needed.
To Ron, he handed a leaf-shaped brooch.
"When you're in danger," Solim explained, "this will cast the Iron Armor Charm once. It only works once in a short period, so don't waste it."
Hermione received a small bronze coin.
"You've used this before," he said to her, "so you know how it works. Good luck."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving the three to their mission.
As Solim made his way through the corridors, he ran into Filch and greeted him.
Speaking of Filch—Dumbledore had recently granted him a small allowance from the school board's funds so he could buy potion ingredients. These were given to Snape, who would then prepare potions to help Filch with his duties. Because of this, Filch had grown quite fond of Solim. If he caught Solim wandering the castle after hours, he would usually pretend not to see him. He even warned Solim whenever Professor McGonagall was on patrol.
For Solim, nighttime wandering was never a problem—as long as he didn't run into McGonagall.
That evening, Solim met Draco at a prearranged spot where they found Neville and Evans already waiting.
"Hurry up," Evans said impatiently, lowering his voice. "That little fellow said they've already gone ahead." He drew his wand and tapped each of them in turn.
Solim felt a subtle shimmer in the air. "Is that the Disillusionment Charm?" he asked.
Evans nodded. "Yes. As long as you don't make noise or walk right into them, they won't notice us."
They were gathered in the corridor outside Evans's room. Just around the corner was the door leading to Jamie—the massive three-headed dog guarding the trapdoor.
When they finally reached it, Jamie was fast asleep. The harp beside him played softly, enchanted to continue the lullaby. It was clearly Hermione's work; she'd enchanted it much better than when Harry had tried with his flute. Thanks to her, the group wouldn't have to risk waking the beast.
None of them spoke as they approached the open trapdoor. All eyes were on Jamie. A real, living three-headed dog was something few had ever seen—even in photographs.
Solim was the first to move. He pulled a small bottle from his cloak and crept toward the sleeping creature.
"Solim! Are you insane?" Draco hissed, his voice trembling. "What are you doing?"
"This is a living three-headed dog," Solim whispered back. "His saliva, blood, nails, and fur are all rare and valuable potion materials."
Holding his breath—Jamie's mouth smelled foul enough to make anyone faint—Solim carefully collected three vials of saliva and a few tufts of fur before stepping back, pale but triumphant.
"Alright," Evans said, "they must be below already. Let's go."
Without hesitation, he jumped through the trapdoor first.
Solim followed last, dropping through the darkness. He hadn't even landed when Draco's voice rang out in panic.
"Something's wrapping around me! Get it off!"
In an instant, Evans conjured bright flames, illuminating the room. The tendrils recoiled, slithering back into the shadows.
"The Devil's Snare," Solim muttered, brushing himself off. "Didn't Professor Sprout teach you about it? It was even on the written exam! You really didn't study, did you?" He shot Draco a disapproving glare.
If Solim hadn't grabbed one of the shrinking vines mid-fall, he would have landed flat on his back. Evans's quick spell had saved them all from being strangled.
Neville, in contrast to Draco, remained calm. The moment he recognized the plant, he relaxed his body—he knew that struggling only made it worse. He had studied Devil's Snare thoroughly and knew exactly how to handle it. Among Professor Sprout's students, Neville had earned the highest marks in Herbology, even higher than Hermione.
"It was too dark!" Draco protested, his voice shaking. "How was I supposed to know it was Devil's Snare? If I had known, I wouldn't have—wait…" He suddenly froze, staring at the retreating vines in disbelief. "They used Devil's Snare to guard the Philosopher's Stone?"
Draco looked from the dark corners of the chamber to Solim, utterly incredulous.
The Philosopher's Stone—the most powerful magical artifact known—guarded by a plant? It made no sense.
"Even Gringotts wouldn't use something this weak to protect a vault," he muttered. "Any wizard with a wand could deal with Devil's Snare, let alone someone powerful enough to steal the Stone."
Even Draco, who often missed the bigger picture, could see how absurd it was.
Evans looked just as disturbed. When he'd first fallen into the vines, he couldn't believe his eyes. He'd thought he was mistaken—surely Hogwarts wouldn't rely on something as trivial as Devil's Snare to protect such a treasure.
But as the realization sank in, despair settled over him.
If the Philosopher's Stone were stolen, the first person to be blamed would undoubtedly be Dumbledore—but Evans knew he wouldn't escape responsibility either. His main duty this year had been to keep watch over the Stone, ensuring it never left Hogwarts.
And now?
His heart sank. If the Stone's stolen under my watch, I'll be a laughingstock. Fired in my first year! Everyone will say, 'There goes the fool who lost the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts.' No one will ever hire me again.
Evans clenched his fists, frustration boiling inside him. The more he thought about it, the more absurd the situation seemed.
"If this," he muttered bitterly, glaring at the scorched vines, "is the kind of protection they came up with, then we deserve whatever happens."
Solim, meanwhile, remained calm. He looked at the fuming Evans, the panicked Draco, and the bewildered Neville. With a small smirk, he reached into his cloak again—and, to everyone's astonishment, pulled out four buckets of popcorn.
"Come on," he said casually. "Don't panic. Don't get angry. Let's eat and watch how this plays out."
Draco blinked. "You brought popcorn? Seriously?"
Solim shrugged. "Well, it's going to be a long night."
Neville let out a weak laugh despite himself, and even Evans couldn't help but sigh.
The four of them stood there, the enchanted fire flickering over their faces, the air still thick with the scent of smoke and damp vines. Somewhere below, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already facing the next challenge, oblivious to the hidden watchers above them.
"Do you really think they can make it?" Draco asked after a moment.
Solim didn't answer immediately. He looked down through the trapdoor, eyes glinting with curiosity.
"That," he said finally, "is exactly what we're about to find out."
As the flames died down, the silence of the underground corridor settled around them. The faint echo of distant footsteps reached their ears. Solim's expression turned thoughtful.
"For what it's worth," he said softly, "if Dumbledore really trusted this setup, maybe there's more to it than meets the eye."
Evans frowned. "Or maybe he's just testing them."
"Testing?" Draco asked. "You mean—he wants them to go after the Stone?"
Solim only smiled faintly. "Maybe."
The others exchanged uneasy glances. The idea that Dumbledore might allow students to face these dangers was hard to believe—but then again, Dumbledore had always been unpredictable.
"Either way," Solim said, breaking the silence, "our job's simple. We watch, we learn, and we don't interfere unless things get out of hand."
Neville nodded, adjusting his wand nervously. "Right."
They settled into their positions, invisible under the Disillusionment Charm, waiting and watching as the night unfolded.
Below them, Harry Potter's first great adventure was already in motion—and above, unseen in the shadows, another story was quietly taking shape.
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