Chapter 32: A Transaction of Favors
In Solim's estimation, the teaching level at Hogwarts was not poor. The professors held back, certainly, but that was understandable. Asking a Doctor of Mathematics to teach primary school arithmetic would yield a similar result; it didn't truly reflect their skill. Students of this age needed time to consolidate and internalize their learning. Force-feeding them advanced knowledge would only produce theoretical wizards, useless in any practical sense. To become a competent witch or wizard, one needed practice. What was the use of knowing a spell's theory if you couldn't cast it under pressure?
The true failing of Hogwarts, in Solim's view, was not its pedagogy, but its lack of direction. It set no clear goal for its students.
At Scuol, every student understood the future they faced—the suffering they endured had a purpose. They knew their objectives and the reason for their existence. Hogwarts was different. It taught magic but neglected to shape the wielder. It failed to help students develop a moral compass.
To put it bluntly, Hogwarts lacked a class on ethics.
How to guide students onto the right path, how to be a decent wizard, how to fortify their ideological foundations—these areas were critically underdeveloped. Was it any surprise, then, that it occasionally produced wizards who were rotten to the core and drawn to the Dark Arts? This was especially true in Slytherin, where most young wizards were raised on radical pure-blood ideologies. The school did little to challenge or correct these inherited prejudices. Given the circumstances, the fact that only one wizard of Voldemort's caliber had emerged was, in a way, remarkable.
As Solim spoke, Dumbledore fell into a deep, contemplative silence.
"It is true," Dumbledore said heavily, "that the school's efforts to guide students onto the right path have been... insufficient."
Insufficient? Solim thought. They are non-existent.
"Now that you have identified this problem, do you have any proposed solutions?" Dumbledore asked, his gaze fixed on Solim.
The sudden shift was jarring. They had been discussing Horcruxes, and now they were on student moral development? Was he expected to recommend a curriculum on Marxist theory?
You must be joking, Solim thought. This is a matter for the Headmaster, the deputies, and the professors. Why are you asking me?
"Aren't we straying rather far from the topic?" Solim deflected. "We were discussing Horcruxes. Perhaps we should avoid digressions."
"Guiding the young is a serious topic in its own right," Dumbledore said, though he relented. "But you are correct. Compared to the matter of the Horcrux, it can be tabled for now."
Dumbledore settled back into his high-backed chair. "May I ask a favor of you, Solim?"
When Solim didn't object, he continued. "Now that you are aware of the Philosopher's Stone, would you be willing to offer Harry assistance when the situation demands it?"
"If you mean lending a hand while he's playing his little games, I suppose I could be persuaded," Solim said, his tone pragmatic. "But I don't work pro bono."
Both of them knew the Stone was in no real danger of being stolen. Even if it were, the thief would face not just Dumbledore's wrath, but the full force of the Council's Action Team—a far more terrifying prospect than dodging Death Eaters. The challenges guarding it were not designed for ultimate security, but for a specific purpose: to test Harry Potter.
"I have no particular opinion of your 'Savior,'" Solim stated bluntly. "Frankly, I believe maintaining a distance is the correct course. I have no desire to be entangled in Harry Potter's affairs. However, I am willing to consider your request, Headmaster."
He met Dumbledore's gaze squarely. "You have investigated my past, I'm sure. You know what I've done and the troubles that follow me. You allowed me into Hogwarts, and for that, I acknowledge a debt. The information this ring represents is my thanks. I will need to use it shortly, after which it will be returned to my grandfather." His words served as a dual reminder: he had dangerous enemies, and the Resurrection Stone was on loan, not a gift.
"The ring remains a Horcrux," Dumbledore cautioned, frowning. "Even if Elrond has neutralized its immediate influence, it is still a dangerous object. May I ask what you intend to do with it?"
The topic of Potter had been deftly sidelined once more.
"The Gaunt family ring is the Resurrection Stone. Used correctly, it can recall the soul or consciousness of the dead." Seeing Dumbledore about to interject, Solim raised a hand. "The key phrase is 'used correctly,' Headmaster. Without the proper method, it only conjures shades from the user's memory—illusions that seem real." He glanced toward Snape, who still stood motionless by the wall. "I promised Professor Snape I would let him speak with Lily Evans."
A look of understanding crossed Dumbledore's face. "I see. The potion Severus brewed was for your sister, then."
It was a statement, not a question. Snape's private brewing might have gone unnoticed, but the change in Filch would not have escaped Dumbledore's keen magical perception.
"Speaking of which, Headmaster," Solim said, seizing the opportunity, "could the school perhaps provide the follow-up potions for Mr. Filch?" It was a perfect arrangement: Hogwarts would cover the cost, Snape would do the work, and Solim would retain Filch's gratitude.
He took Dumbledore's silence as acquiescence.
"As for helping Potter," Solim returned to the original proposition, "I can do it. But as I said, I don't work for free."
"Oh? And what is your price?"
Solim's mind raced. What do I want? Phoenix tears, blood, feathers, rebirthing ashes... I want it all. But he knew that was impossible. A transaction required equivalence. How could a minor favor for Potter compare to the rarest of phoenix materials? It was like expecting legendary armor for a beginner's fetch quest. Even he wasn't that audacious.
"I will mention it to you when the time comes," Solim said smoothly. "Don't worry, I won't make an unreasonable demand." It was better, he decided, to have the great Albus Dumbledore owe him a favor. He could collect when the right opportunity arose.
"It seems you have a clear idea of who is behind the plot against the Stone. Am I correct in thinking so?" Dumbledore asked abruptly.
The question caught Solim off guard, but he recovered quickly.
"Speaking of which, Headmaster," he countered, "don't you wish to save the 'brave' wizard? Or have you decided he is beyond salvation?"
Dumbledore had not expected that retort.
He was well aware that something was amiss with Quirrell. If Snape could sense it, it certainly hadn't escaped his notice.
"It appears nothing is hidden from you, inside the castle or out, Solim." For the third time that evening, Dumbledore regarded the young Slytherin with genuine, serious appraisal.
"Forgive my bluntness, but I am not one of those Gryffindors who fails to use their brains. Only they would believe our Head of House is trying to kill Potter in broad daylight." It was a cutting, but accurate, observation.
"Let's conclude here for now, Headmaster. It's very late, and I should return. Professor Flitwick has Charms first thing tomorrow, and I have no wish to be late." Solim made to leave.
"I believe you and our Head of House still have matters to discuss. I'll find my own way back. Don't worry, I won't wander." Without waiting for Dumbledore's dismissal, Solim turned and strode from the office.
It was impolite, he knew, but a crucial thought had just struck him—a question he had long overlooked. Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, a forgotten detail suddenly resurfaces. For Solim, it was the memory of Neville's lost toad on the train. He needed to get back immediately, to consult the Marauder's Map and confirm if any unfamiliar names were lurking within the castle. In his memory, the toad was insignificant, barely a footnote. But he couldn't be sure it was just a toad—not until he found it.
Watching Solim's hurried departure, Dumbledore offered a faint, unreadable smile. He then turned to the silent Potions Master. "Severus," he said, "it seems this student of yours is full of little secrets."