Chapter 47: The Vault of Low Expectations
Harry's mind was consumed by the Philosopher's Stone and Snape. Overhearing what he believed was Snape threatening Quirrell in his office had cemented his conviction: Snape was making his move. The Stone was in imminent danger.
Exams were finally over. The moment Harry finished his History of Magic paper, he, Ron, and Hermione rushed to find Solim in the Great Hall. They had just learned that Dumbledore had been urgently called away from Hogwarts. The Stone's primary guardian was gone. Harry and Ron were certain Snape would strike tonight.
"I've figured it all out, Solim!" Harry began, the words tumbling out in a rushed, breathless stream. "Remember Hagrid's dragon? Snape did that on purpose—to trick Hagrid into revealing how to get past Fluffy! And I've seen him threatening Quirrell! He probably knows how to bypass all the protections now! With Dumbledore gone, he'll do it tonight! We have to move now!"
Solim, seeing the genuine panic in Harry's eyes, didn't offer any teasing remarks. Instead, he simply drew several items from his robes.
"Take these. They'll be useful. But you return them to me afterward. If they're broken, you pay for them." He handed a ring to Harry, which could transfigure into a single, simple knife. He gave Ron a leaf-shaped brooch that would emit a protective shield if the wearer was in mortal peril. To Hermione, he gave a familiar, charmed coin.
"You know how to use this," he said to her. "Do what you must. Good luck." With that, he turned and left them to their fate.
On his way through the castle, Solim passed Argus Filch and offered a polite nod. True to his word, Dumbledore had arranged for Filch's potion regimen, deducting the cost from the school board's funds. Filch was now deeply grateful to Solim, often turning a blind eye to his nighttime wanderings and even tipping him off about Professor McGonagall's patrol routes. As long as he avoided her, Solim could move freely after curfew.
That evening, Solim met Draco, Neville, and a very weary-looking Evans at their pre-arranged spot near the third-floor corridor.
"Hurry up," Evans muttered, pulling out his wand. "The little ones are already on the move." He cast a series of spells over the group.
"Is this a Disillusionment Charm?" Solim asked, feeling a strange coolness settle over his skin.
"A variation. They won't notice you unless you make a racket or walk directly in front of them," Evans explained.
Their meeting point was just outside Evans's room, a stone's throw from the forbidden door. They found it ajar, and inside, the massive three-headed dog, Fluffy, was fast asleep, a low, rumbling snore emanating from its three throats. A magically enchanted harp played in the corner—clearly Hermione's work, far more effective than Harry's flute had been.
Ignoring the open trapdoor for a moment, the group stared in fascination at the slumbering beast. A living, breathing Cerberus was a rare sight. Solim was the first to snap out of it. He pulled several glass vials from his pouch and approached the dog.
"Solim, have you gone mad? What are you doing?" Draco hissed.
"It's a living Cerberus! Its saliva, blood, claws... they're all incredibly valuable alchemical ingredients." Holding his breath against the potent smell of dog breath, Solim swiftly collected three vials of drool and a clump of coarse hair before retreating.
"Alright, they should be ahead of us now. Let's go," Evans said, and without further ado, he jumped into the dark hole.
Solim was the last to jump. As he fell through the darkness, he heard Draco's panicked shout from below. "Something's grabbing me!"
A moment later, the room was flooded with light as Evans conjured a burst of flame. The light-phobic Devil's Snare recoiled instantly, slithering away into the shadows. Solim, who had been about to land in its grasp, managed to grab a retreating vine, saving himself a hard landing.
"What was that?" Draco gasped, brushing himself off.
"That was Devil's Snare," Solim said, irritation clear in his voice as he rubbed his sore tailbone. "Didn't you pay any attention in Herbology? It was on the exam! Didn't you study?"
While a flustered Draco tried to compose himself, Neville had remained remarkably calm. He had recognized the plant immediately and was preparing to relax to escape its grip when Evans acted first. Neville might be timid in a duel, but in his element—Herbology—he was more knowledgeable than even Hermione.
"It was too dark! How was I supposed to know it was Devil's Snare? If I'd known..." Draco's complaint died in his throat. He stared at the retreating vines, then at Solim, his expression one of pure disbelief. "Devil's Snare? They're using Devil's Snare to protect the Philosopher's Stone?"
He wasn't stupid. The disconnect was staggering. The Philosopher's Stone was a legend, an object of immense power. Devil's Snare was a common, first-year-level obstacle. Using it to guard the Stone was like using a garden gnome to defend Gringotts. Any witch or wizard with a wand could bypass it with ease, let alone a wizard cunning enough to attempt the Stone's theft.
If Draco saw the absurdity, Evans felt it tenfold. The moment he'd landed in the tangling vines, his heart had sunk. When he confirmed it was indeed Devil's Snare, a profound sense of professional despair washed over him.
If the Stone is stolen, he thought miserably, the official blame will fall on Dumbledore. But will I escape unscathed? His sole mission this year was to ensure the Stone didn't leave Hogwarts. To fail so spectacularly in his first year on the job would be a career-ending catastrophe. He could already hear the whispers: 'That's Evans, the fool who lost the Philosopher's Stone because he couldn't recognize a pathetic security measure.'
He had trusted Dumbledore's competence, but this... this was a slap in the face. How is Devil's Snare supposed to protect anything?
Seeing Draco's incredulous stare and Evans's look of utter devastation, Solim simply reached into his expanded pouch and pulled out four large buckets of freshly popped, buttery popcorn.
"Here," he said, handing them out. "Don't fret. Don't get angry. Let's just watch the show."