Chapter 35: Fractures and Suspicions
The savior, Harry Potter, had been restless. During the Christmas holidays, while exploring the castle under his new, anonymous Invisibility Cloak, he had discovered a magnificent mirror. In its reflection, he didn't see himself, but his long-dead parents, smiling at him with profound love. The sight was a seismic shock, filling a hollow space in his heart he had carried for a decade. But when he returned for a second night, he was found by Headmaster Dumbledore, who gently but firmly explained the mirror's seductive danger. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," the Headmaster had said, and the mirror was removed. Harry knew he was right, but the loss was a fresh ache.
His attention was soon forcibly redirected by the relentless training schedule of Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Wood, desperate for the House Cup, wrung every spare minute from his team. Consequently, Harry spent most of his days in the air. The effort paid off; in their match against Hufflepuff, he caught the Snitch in a record-breaking five minutes, right under Professor Snape's hooked nose. The thought of Snape's furious, contorted expression was deeply satisfying.
The triumph was short-lived. After the match, while walking back to the castle, Harry spotted Snape and the stuttering Professor Quirrell slipping into the Forbidden Forest. His curiosity piqued, Harry followed under his cloak. Hidden amongst the trees, he witnessed a chilling scene: Snape was threatening Quirrell, his voice a low, menacing hiss, demanding to know how to get past a giant, three-headed dog. Harry's victorious mood shattered, doused by a bucket of icy dread. Snape was after the Philosopher's Stone.
He hurried back to the castle, where the Gryffindor common room was in uproarious celebration. Pulling Ron and Hermione into an empty classroom, Harry locked the door and relayed his discovery.
Before Hermione could analyze the situation, Ron burst out, "We knew it! We knew that greasy git was no good! He's the only one in the school who'd try to steal the Stone! Remember his leg, Harry? Bitten by Fluffy! This is the proof! We have to go and expose him right now!"
He then shot a pointed look at Hermione. "Honestly, Harry, you should've just talked to me about this. No need to bring her. She's awfully chummy with that Slytherin, Selwyn. How do we know she won't run and tell him everything?"
Harry inwardly groaned. He knew what was coming.
Hermione, who had been pondering the strange dynamic between Snape and Quirrell, froze. Her face flushed with a mixture of hurt and anger. "Fine," she said, her voice trembling. "I'll go. You two can figure it out yourselves. It's not as if you'd last an afternoon in the library researching this properly! You're just... lazy and you talk big! Don't come to me for help ever again!"
With that, she wrenched the door open and stormed out, her eyes glistening.
Harry turned to Ron, exasperated. "You upset her again! Have you forgotten what happened on Halloween?"
Ron had the decency to look slightly abashed, but he quickly doubled down. "Harry, she's too close to Slytherin! We can't take the risk. It's better if it's just the two of us. We have to find a way to stop Snape ourselves."
"And how do we do that? Tell the professors?" Harry was starting to question his friend's judgment.
"Are we just going to do nothing? Let Snape get away with it?" Ron insisted, leaning closer. "We're the only ones who know! If the professors won't listen... we'll have to get to the Stone first, before he does!"
Harry stared at him, aghast. "Are you mad? How? We can't even get past Fluffy! Snape got bitten, remember? What chance do we have?"
"I've thought of that," Ron whispered conspiratorially. "Fluffy's Hagrid's. He must know how to handle him. We'll go and get the secret out of Hagrid."
Meanwhile, Hermione wandered the quieter corridors of the castle, her vision blurred by unshed tears. The raucous celebration in the common room felt alien to her current mood; she needed solitude. A bitter thought crossed her mind: Maybe Solim was right. Perhaps Gryffindor isn't the right place for me.
She had never truly fit in with the boisterous, rule-breaking nature of her house. She tolerated the noise and the constant loss of hard-won house points due to reckless stunts. But the whispers behind her back—calling her a show-off, a know-it-all—always came from the very same students who loved to be the center of attention themselves. It was a hypocrisy she found exhausting.
Without realizing it, her feet had carried her to the small, disused classroom she, Solim, and Neville often used for private study.
Hesitating for only a moment, she touched the enchanted doorknob on the portrait that served as their door and stepped inside.
"Huh? What are you doing here at this time?" Solim looked up from his book, surprised. Hermione was usually in the library at this hour.
Then he noticed her red-rimmed eyes.
Frowning, he gestured to a chair. "Sit. What happened?"
After a moment's internal debate, Hermione haltingly told him about Harry seeing Snape threaten Quirrell in the forest.
"None of that is surprising, nor is it your real problem," Solim said dismissively. "The Stone is perfectly safe. It's just those two Gryffindors, refusing to use their brains as if the world would stop turning if they did." His tone made his opinion of their intelligence perfectly clear.
He then pointed a finger at her face. "Let me guess. This," he said, indicating her tear-stained cheeks, "is a Weasley Special."
"Weasley? What's that idiot done now?" a voice piped up from the adjoining room.
Draco Malfoy and Neville emerged, wands in hand, having evidently been practicing spells next door. The mere mention of the Weasley name was enough to pique Draco's interest.
"Go back to your practicing," Solim said, shooing them away without a second glance. He turned his full attention back to Hermione. "I actually have a question for you. That toad, Levi, Neville's pet. You saw it on the train."
Hermione was taken aback. Weren't you supposed to comfort a crying person? This was an abrupt change of topic.
"I think there's something wrong with that toad. I need you to help me keep an eye on it," Solim continued, his expression utterly serious. "Note when it appears, when it vanishes. If possible, try to figure out where it goes. You know I can't get into the Gryffindor common room."
"What's wrong with the toad?" Hermione asked, her own distress momentarily forgotten. Solim wouldn't be this intense over nothing.
Solim leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I suspect that toad is an unregistered Animagus who has infiltrated the school."