Chapter 42: Consequences and Confinement
And so, the Gryffindor trio was tentatively reunited. Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy found himself operating alone. While he had Crabbe and Goyle for muscle, they were useless for anything requiring subtlety. Solim had made his disinterest in the scheme perfectly clear, leaving Draco to see it through himself. Yet, he was undeterred, pouring all his energy into the endeavor with the single-minded focus of someone deeply invested.
In this, however, Draco was proving himself a poor Slytherin. He was expending immense effort on a venture with a low chance of success, and worse, he was putting himself on the front lines. This was a stark departure from the Malfoy family creed. It was often said you would never find a Malfoy at the scene of the crime, though the weapon might be covered in their fingerprints. Draco, by contrast, was charging into the fray with the blunt force of a Gryffindor—a strategy for which he was ill-suited.
His failure, therefore, was almost inevitable.
On Saturday night, long after curfew, Draco—lacking an Invisibility Cloak and unable to cast a competent Disillusionment Charm—was caught red-handed by Professor McGonagall while skulking towards the Astronomy Tower. Just as she had him by the ear, preparing to march him to Professor Snape, Harry and Ron, hidden around a corner, witnessed the scene.
Their muffled giggles and silent jeers were short-lived. Argus Filch, drawn by the commotion, appeared moments later. Having forgotten the Invisibility Cloak at the top of the tower, the two Gryffindors were caught with equal ease.
This time, at least, Neville and Hermione were not implicated. The cloak could barely cover three stationary people, and moving with it only hid two effectively. Neville, now privy to their plans, had wisely stayed away.
When the news broke the next morning that Gryffindor had been docked a staggering one hundred points, Hermione was speechless. Thankfully, it was a Sunday, giving her time to process the sheer scale of their folly.
After Harry confessed the full story of the previous night's debacle, Hermione found she was beyond scolding them. The only silver lining was that they had, at the last moment, heeded her advice and not brought the dragon into the castle. The alternative consequences were too dreadful to contemplate.
She listened to their story in silence and then walked away without a word. The dragon was gone; Hagrid was safe. As for what punishment these two human-shaped calamities would face, she no longer cared. In her view, they had earned every bit of it, and perhaps the hardship would serve as a much-needed lesson.
By noon, every Gryffindor knew that two of their first-years were responsible for the colossal point loss. Harry and Ron became pariahs. Older students met them with cold stares or open scorn. With the end-of-year House Cup competition heating up, a hundred-point deduction was a death knell for Gryffindor's chances, all thanks to a pair of reckless newcomers.
In contrast, Draco's fate in Slytherin was far more comfortable. While some were displeased with the fifty points lost on his account, they kept it to themselves. A significant factor was Gryffindor's even greater loss, which gave the Slytherins, always keen to see their rivals humbled, a certain grim satisfaction. Moreover, the Malfoy name carried weight, and Draco's promise to sponsor seven top-tier brooms for the Quidditch team next year ensured he faced no real backlash.
Over breakfast, Draco showed Solim a note from Professor McGonagall. "I have to find Filch in the trophy room at eleven tonight for my detention," he said, puzzled. "Why Filch? Shouldn't it be with Professor Snape?"
Solim skimmed the note and handed it back. He knew what awaited them: a trip into the Forbidden Forest. While it would be terrifying for them, he knew it wasn't genuinely life-threatening.
"Apparently, the school has something else in mind for you," Solim replied dismissively. He had no interest in the lurking Voldemort or Quirrell, but his curiosity was piqued by the mention of a dead unicorn. He had never seen one, and the creatures were notoriously valuable. A unicorn's horn was a Class-A Non-Tradeable Material, fetching a high price on the black market for use in high-end wand cores, potions, and alchemy. While the thought of filling his purse was tempting, he was no fool; he lacked the tools and a foolproof plan, and venturing into the Forest under such circumstances was sheer madness.
"Don't be a hero tonight. Keep your head down and do as you're told," Solim advised, feeling a slight obligation to warn the boy. He knew Draco's temperament would lead him to trouble.
Though he knew of Voldemort's current, pitiful state, Solim had no desire to see it for himself. What would he even say? Hello, Tom, I just wanted to see how miserable you've become? The risk far outweighed the morbid curiosity. A cornered, desperate Voldemort, with nothing left to lose, was unpredictable. Refusing a demand for loyalty could be fatal. Accepting would be a death sentence in itself, as Quirrell's decaying body demonstrated. Meeting the Dark Lord was not on his agenda.
"Just be obedient and don't cause any trouble. I'm warning you." With a final glance at Draco, Solim made to leave.
Draco quickly stood and followed. "You know something, don't you?" he pressed. "You always know things I don't."
Solim couldn't very well tell him, You're going to meet your father's idol tonight, so maybe ask for an autograph. It seemed in poor taste. Instead, he remained silent. Let Draco wonder. He was certain the shaken boy would come seeking answers tomorrow.
In a way, Solim thought it might be good for Draco to see Voldemort for what he now was. The man was a poor idol—a vessel of hatred and negative energy, a corrupting influence on wizarding youth. It was better for Draco to see the truth.
Besides, while Lucius had been a Death Eater, had he ever truly been a willing one? The company he kept had undoubtedly shaped Draco's warped admiration. As Dumbledore had rightly assessed, Draco was not a killer. His soul was not yet corrupted. He was just a privileged, arrogant boy. Having grown close to him in Slytherin, Solim knew Draco had potential, if he could only be steered away from wasting it.
Seeing the positive changes in Neville, Solim felt that Draco, too, was in need of a similar reformation. A shock to the system might just be the catalyst.