The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting golden light across the corridor. Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood just outside Professor Weasley's office, peering at the door.
Harry and Ron were nudging it open just a crack, squinting to catch a glimpse inside.
"Why are you two being so sneaky?" Hermione asked, puzzled. "It's the middle of the day."
Realizing this wasn't a midnight adventure, Harry laughed quietly and gave the door a proper knock. "Knock knock."
They waited. No response.
Harry pushed the door open a bit more. The wooden frame gave a soft creak as it moved.
"It's very rude to enter a professor's office without permission," Hermione murmured disapprovingly. Still, she followed the other two inside without hesitation.
The sight that greeted them left them speechless.
To the left of the professor's desk, an entire wall was covered in writhing green vines. It was Devil's Snare—dense and alive. Even more shocking, one of its vines was flipping through a book on the desk, and another was wrapped around a wand that was sparking intermittently.
Harry's eyes widened. He recognized the wand immediately. It was Vison's spare.
"What is this thing?" Ron asked, blinking in confusion.
Harry stepped closer to the desk, already familiar with Devil's Snare. He noticed the book it was reading—The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
He frowned. Was the Devil's Snare… learning how to cast spells?
The idea seemed absurd.
Just then, the Devil's Snare became aware of its audience. It quickly stashed the wand into the desk drawer and slid the book back onto the table, vines quivering.
"We saw it," Harry said gently, touching one of the vines. "You don't have to hide it."
The vine drooped, as if ashamed.
"Don't worry," Harry added with a smile. "I won't tell the professor."
Hermione and Ron exchanged glances as they watched Harry speak to a plant.
"Has he lost his mind?" Ron whispered.
Before Hermione could reply, Harry waved them over. "Come on! It won't hurt you. This is Professor Weasley's Devil's Snare—it's really friendly. It's my friend."
Still unsure, Hermione and Ron inched closer. The Devil's Snare curiously reached out to brush their robes, its touch surprisingly gentle.
"It really won't attack us?" Hermione asked nervously. "Every book I've read says Devil's Snare strangles anything that comes near it until it dies."
Ron, suddenly alarmed, froze mid-step.
"Professor Weasley's Devil's Snare is different," Harry said reassuringly. Then he turned to the plant. "Could you make us three cups of tea?"
Ron and Hermione looked utterly confused. The Devil's Snare responded immediately, brewing three cups of black tea and setting them neatly onto the table with saucers.
"See?" Harry said proudly, gesturing to the tea. "Told you."
"But Harry," Hermione said cautiously, "we just barged into Professor Weasley's office. Won't he be furious?"
Harry was already browsing the bookshelf. "Don't worry. I've never seen Professor Weasley angry."
"But we shouldn't be in here without permission—" Hermione began, but Ron cut her off with a pat on the shoulder.
"Relax. The professor likes Harry. It'll be fine."
"Hermione, is it this one?"
Harry was holding up a thick book. Hermione and Ron quickly gathered around.
She took it from Harry's hands and flipped it open. "Yes, this is it!"
She scanned the pages of The Untold Story of Nicolas Flamel.
"Got it!" she exclaimed. "It's the Philosopher's Stone! It says Nicolas Flamel once made a stone that could turn any metal into pure gold and also brew an elixir of life—whoever drinks it becomes immortal."
"Any metal into gold?" Ron repeated, his eyes wide. "So if we get the Philosopher's Stone, we'll be rich? Like... dripping in Godric?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's just a theory. There's no proof it's really the Philosopher's Stone."
Harry, meanwhile, had grown quiet.
Was the Philosopher's Stone really hidden on the fourth floor?
Hermione shut the book and returned it to its place. "We have class soon! We need to go."
The trio filed out of the office, and behind them, the Devil's Snare reached out and locked the door.
Then it took the textbook back out and resumed practicing spells, sparks dancing from the wand in the dim office.
Later, Vison made his way back toward his office.
He had just come from observing Quirrell again. The man's transformation was startling. According to students, Quirrell was still clinging to his textbook during lessons, but he no longer stuttered.
It was unsettling.
Deep in thought, Vison pushed open the office door—then stopped.
Something was wrong.
Someone had been here. Three untouched teacups sat on his desk like evidence.
The Devil's Snare emerged from a suitcase and used its vines to draw an image in the air—a face.
Harry's face.
"No wonder you let them in," Vison muttered, finally smiling.
He dropped into his chair. There were still fifth-year holiday assignments to mark.
The students had been given a mock exam, modeled after past O.W.L. questions.
"Miss Donovan… Mr. Flint…" he murmured, marking papers.
He paused when he reached another student's parchment.
"Mr. Cartright… 'Can the egg of a Bowtruckle be used to stew beef and create unparalleled deliciousness?' Genius!"
Vison promptly gave him a failing grade but scribbled a note to try the recipe himself sometime.
Meanwhile, Harry's interest in the Philosopher's Stone had started to wane.
Gold? He had a vault full of Godric, inherited from his parents. He didn't need more.
Immortality? He was only eleven. The idea felt distant, like something out of myth.
Ron, however, couldn't stop muttering about the Philosopher's Stone and gold.
"Philosopher's Stone... Godric... pure gold..."
His eyes sparkled with dreams of wealth.
Hermione, for her part, remained curious. As soon as their last class ended that day, she rushed to the library, intent on uncovering more information about the Philosopher's Stone.
And somewhere in a quiet corner of Hogwarts, a sentient Devil's Snare was casting sparks from a wand, silently learning.
FOR MORE CHAPTERS
patreon.com/Johnybairstow