During breakfast the next day, Hermione hurried to the Slytherin table. She ignored the hostile glances and walked straight to Solim.
"Solim, I have something to tell you. Last night—"
Hermione was interrupted before she could finish.
Of course, it would be interrupted—a Gryffindor Muggle-born had wandered into the area where blood purity was a sensitive topic. Hermione could have been pointed at with a wand if a professor weren't watching.
"Hmph, a—"
"Brace," Solim said, smiling at Zabini across the table. "Are you really going to say that word?"
Zabini was about to retort when Draco kicked him under the table. Solim smiled at the interaction, then turned to Hermione.
"You haven't eaten yet. Go eat first before talking about anything else."
After sending Hermione away, Solim turned back to Zabini and Draco, gesturing to the food before him.
"There's nothing wrong with being proud of your bloodline. But using it to hurt others," he paused, glancing at Zabini, "is childish and low-level."
"Blaise, I'm looking forward to your final grades."
"Final grades?" Zabini sneered. "What do written grades even mean?"
"Written grades aren't comprehensive, but they reveal a lot," Solim replied, wiping his mouth. He then looked at Draco. "Want to hear yours together?"
Leading Draco to the Gryffindor table for the Slytherins' sake, Solim experienced the typical Gryffindor welcome—but he was completely immune to their childish trash talk.
Draco, however, was different. Though he had changed under Solim's influence, his Slytherin instincts couldn't be erased overnight. Fortunately, he knew they were in someone else's territory and followed Solim's example, keeping silent.
"Hermione, the old place. I'll bring the suitcase there later, and don't forget the book."
Before Hermione finished eating, Solim took Draco and left the Gryffindor table.
"Did you tell him?" Harry asked Hermione quietly.
"I was ready to," she replied.
"Why? It's none of his business." Harry's words were muffled as he spoke with a mouthful of food.
"Even if I didn't, Neville would've," Hermione said firmly, blaming Neville.
"A Slytherin spy in Gryffindor?" Ron finally swallowed, looking at Neville and Hermione. "Maybe two."
"I'm too tired to argue. Come on, Neville." Hermione gave Ron a blank look and beckoned him to leave.
"Wait, Hermione. We're involved too. If there's anything… you know? Harry and I should know."
"It's up to you, but I warn you—keep your mouth shut," Hermione said, leading Neville away without looking back.
By the time Hermione and Neville reached the small classroom with their two companions, Solim and Draco had already arrived. Hermione had wasted some time retrieving a book from her dormitory, since Gryffindor's common room was on the eighth floor.
"Okay, let's hear it. What's so important that you skipped breakfast?" Solim asked once they were seated.
"Solim, do you remember the fourth-floor hallway that Dumbledore said we shouldn't approach at the start-of-term feast? We found a huge dog with three heads there last night."
Hermione recounted the events of the previous evening to the group.
"A huge dog with three heads? You mean a three-headed dog?" Solim rubbed his chin, feigning thought. "It must be tied up, or you wouldn't have returned safely last night."
Three-headed dogs are classified as five-star dangerous magical creatures. Facing one head-on without sufficient power would be suicidal. Even if both teams attempted it together, victory was uncertain. Most magic has little effect on creatures rated five stars in danger.
"That's not the point! It's guarding something. The dog is over a trapdoor!" Hermione's voice trembled with urgency.
"So? What does that have to do with you?" Solim asked coldly, leaving several people speechless.
"You're curious about what it guards, aren't you?" Solim crossed his arms and glanced around. "But do you have the strength to investigate?"
It's one thing to be curious; it's another to know your limits. Gryffindor students are inexperienced compared to the other houses.
Slytherins, generally precocious, might be curious, but they never recklessly endanger themselves. Ravenclaws would likely be more interested in the dog itself than the trapdoor. Hufflepuffs… well, they barely venture out at night unless food calls them.
"If you want to know about the dog, read Casmander's writings. If you're curious about the trapdoor, hehe, write a suicide note first."
Solim's words were clearly aimed at Harry and Ron. Neville remained unaffected. Hermione, sensible as ever, felt conflicted.
"Listen, it feels like you already know something," Hermione said cautiously.
Glancing at her, Solim mused briefly before speaking. "You want to play this adventure game, don't you? I won't stop you, but the consequences are yours."
Before coming to Hogwarts, Solim had struggled with whether to get involved in Harry Potter's affairs. Not participating meant watching life from the sidelines, but involvement brought change. By being here, he showed he was willing to stir things up. After all, observing a story is different from experiencing it.
"You might as well guess who's guarding that dog. I'm not interested in this matter; I expect you to take the risk yourselves." Solim felt like an NPC, watching as the protagonists accepted their quest.
"Hagrid!" Hermione and the Gryffindor trio exchanged excited glances.
"Now that you know everything, are you still in the mood to sit here?" Solim asked, wanting to get rid of them quickly. He still needed to meet Snape and Filch. Even Sundays were busy for him.
Hermione watched him hesitate, torn between rationality and desire. Her mind warned her of danger, but her heart burned with curiosity and courage.
"Solim… is this… right for us?" she asked hesitantly.
Seeing her inner conflict, Solim smiled. Conflict between reason and desire is a hallmark of human nature. But now he didn't want to talk further.
"Ask your heart," Solim said, tapping his chest. "We'll discuss book returns later. I'll be here tonight."
After the three left, Solim looked at Neville, who had stayed behind.
"Aren't you going?"
Neville shook his head. "I'm practicing the Disarming Charm today."
Neville may seem dull to some, but he has focus and clear goals. Even with limited talent, he can achieve much.
"And Draco? You want to stay with Neville or not?" Solim asked. Freshmen usually sleep in, catch up on homework, or wander the castle. Few have clear plans.
"Fine, I'll go with Neville," Draco shrugged.
Solim raised an eyebrow and pulled out a few blue potion bottles. "These are motivation potions. Your magic isn't enough yet; these will save you time."
Motivation potions restore magical power, with minimal side effects. The downside: overuse leads to drug resistance, eventually rendering them ineffective.
"Encouragement potions aren't cheap," Draco said, accepting one. "What about you?"
"I have other things to do. Use them well—saving them for me is pointless," Solim said.
These potions were handed down by Solim's grandfather. Solim consumes them like water and practices magic constantly. His natural skill ensures he doesn't need them, unlike others who would waste time waiting for their magic to recover.
"Okay, practice on your own. I'm leaving. See you at lunch." Solim waved and departed.
After exiting, he headed straight to Snape's office in the basement. Today was packed with errands.