If there is anyone at Hogwarts who is both free and busy, it must be Headmaster Dumbledore. He claimed to be free because he didn't have to teach students or correct their homework. Yet he was busy because, as headmaster, he managed not only the school but also numerous responsibilities outside of it.
Dumbledore was more than a headmaster; he was a symbol of Hogwarts itself. The school seemed complete because of him. Yet, he often went out, leaving the deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall, in charge of both major and minor matters.
Tonight—though "night" was technically inaccurate since it was past midnight—Dumbledore finally had time for his usual questioning after finishing his work in the headmaster's office.
"So, which students need our attention this year?" Dumbledore leaned back in his high chair and looked at the Sorting Hat perched on the bookshelf—a clean Sorting Hat.
"It's the same every year. Nothing worth noting," the Sorting Hat replied.
"Oh? Harry Potter and the Selwyn boy aren't worth noting?" Dumbledore asked, pushing back his chair and standing.
"Nothing worth noting. If I were to say anything, that kid Potter doesn't seem to have a good impression of Slytherin. During sorting, he kept saying 'no Slytherin,' even though it's obviously the house most suited for him." The Sorting Hat wriggled in dissatisfaction.
"As for the Selwyn boy, he chose Slytherin himself, but I think Ravenclaw would suit him better. I can also tell he has practiced Occlumency, though not in front of me."
"Occlumency? Not surprising. He studied at Schuyler for six years before coming here. Children there usually develop some skill in Occlumency to defend against the Cruciatus and Imperius curses." Dumbledore walked to Fawkes, his phoenix, and gently stroked its feathers.
"That's nothing to worry about. I've seen countless young wizards over the centuries—gifted, untalented, smart, and foolish. Truly 'notable' children are rare." The Sorting Hat paused, then added, almost shyly, "For thousands of years, none of the previous headmasters thought to clean me. I still have to rely on a young wizard to experience this refreshing feeling. You should thank him."
Dumbledore looked at the motionless Sorting Hat speechlessly. Then, sensing something, he sat back at his desk, eyes on the door.
The headmaster's office door creaked open, and a mass of black cloaked figure slipped in, closing it behind him.
"Ah, Severus, you've arrived."
Snape regarded Dumbledore silently. Anyone disturbed from sleep would be irritable, and Snape was no exception.
"What's the result of your house's 'tradition' this year?" Dumbledore asked directly.
"Lucius' son is a new prefect," Snape replied, expressionless.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Interesting. And Draco gave up the single room meant for prefects?"
"A Selwyn boy," Snape said, remaining silent.
"And the process?"
"Draco didn't act at all; the others were defeated by Selwyn. He didn't utter a single spell."
"Silent spells… that's unexpected." Dumbledore stood, retrieving the Pensieve from the cupboard.
"What? You want to see my memory again?" Snape's tone dripped with sarcasm.
"I just want to understand the boy, Severus, that's all."
"What can a child do?" Snape snapped. "Instead of worrying about a young wizard, why not investigate someone truly suspicious? Professor Quirrell, for instance—Defense Against the Dark Arts, an unknown man hired by the school!"
"Quirinus is not unknown, Severus. He graduated from Hogwarts." Dumbledore's voice was calm.
"I dined with him once. He reeks of deceit. And you promised to protect Lily's son yet turned a blind eye to danger!" Snape growled.
"No, I am not blind. Sometimes focusing too much on visible danger causes one to overlook the real threat," Dumbledore said, beckoning Snape closer. "Before we discuss danger, I want to see this."
Snape hesitated but handed over a memory, which Dumbledore placed in the Pensieve.
"Did no one strike first? Since you're all so timid, I'll take it easy." Solim waved his wand. Only three Slytherin first-year girls were present, and his gentle impediment spell immediately pushed them out of the circle.
"Very skilled blocking spell," Dumbledore murmured, eyes fixed on Solim. Snape stood nearby, pulled into the memory.
Some students finally reacted, attacking Solim. But he was powerful; they aimed at him first. Solim deftly avoided a leg-locking spell aimed at Draco, countered with a shock spell, then tripped Draco. The young master remained passive; if he were injured, his prefect room might be forfeit.
Solim's counter-curse dispelled spells from other students, and with a swipe of his wand-free hand, he created an invisible wall, sealing the circle. All students except him and Draco were pushed out.
"Done!" Solim waved casually, exiting the circle.
Dumbledore leaned in. "Severus, notice the ring on Solim's right hand?"
"A ring," Snape replied. "And he still has clothes… and shoes." He sneered.
"It's no ordinary wand," Dumbledore said, examining the ring and Solim's wand. "I encountered it during my travels, and it was returned to the family that owned it—Selwyn."
"So the child is also a Selwyn?"
"Yes. Solim is an illegitimate son; he wasn't entitled to the family wand. Old pure-blood families preserve remarkable wands over generations. A bastard child owning one is unusual. And he carried two wands. Why do you think that is?"
"Ask him yourself," Snape muttered.
"I recognized the wand and returned it to the family. Selwyn donated it to the school as thanks," Dumbledore explained, gesturing to a large, gold-rimmed mirror behind him.
Snape's gaze was drawn to it, the Mirror of Erised, stirring brief feelings of regret and longing, before his usual numbness returned.
"Use it to protect the Philosopher's Stone," Dumbledore said, looking at Snape. "Do you think it's safe?"
"There's never such a thing as 'safe.' I'm going back," Snape replied, closing the door.
Solim had just finished organizing his prefect room after helping Draco win the prefect title. He discarded decorations he deemed unnecessary. The room would be for sleeping and theoretical magic research only; potion brewing and spell practice would take place elsewhere. Empty classrooms around Slytherin offered hidden spots.
It was late, but Solim had no intention of resting. He leaned against the bedhead, absorbed in his tome. Tomorrow, the first session would be History of Magic to catch up on sleep, followed by spell practice. Only Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts were shared with Gryffindor; all other Slytherin classes were with Ravenclaw. Solim preferred dealing with Ravenclaws, easier due to shared gender. Gryffindor interactions were trickier: "You evil Slytherin, stay away!" or "You Slytherin snake, what conspiracy is this?"
Solim's older brother Neville was in Gryffindor, ensuring future encounters. But for now, the book in his hand remained his top priority.
Solim shared a deep bond with his half-sister, Sirna. Back at Selwyn Castle, she was the only one who made him feel warmth. The Mana Riot he experienced at age four preceded his older brothers Dax and Sabiantes, aged five and six. Pure-blooded families judged magical talent by early power surges; the earlier the onset, the higher the potential. But a surge too early could render a child "silent"—a death sentence in wizarding terms. No Obscure survived past ten.
After the Mana Riot, Solim was sent to Schuyler, a school for elite magical families. From age seven, he endured harsh training, allowed home only once a year. His eldest brother ignored him; the second brother remained distant. Only his father offered occasional attention. His mother? Solim wished to remain far away. Sirna, however, was close, relying on him for emotional support.
Solim's attachment to her became his emotional anchor, sustaining him through years of isolation. His hope was in the book he now read—a plan to change the fate of his Squib sister.