Evans turned his grief and frustration into appetite. He stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth and chewed loudly.
"What is this stuff? It's actually pretty good."
Evans was the typical sort of wizard—little contact with Muggle things. Popcorn was completely new to him. The same went for Neville and Draco; both were tasting it for the first time.
"Alright, eat as we go," Solim called out, leading the group forward in a loose formation.
They continued onward—past the Devil's Snare, then the room with the enchanted keys Professor Flitwick had set up.
Evans began to frown. Something wasn't right.
Seriously? Are these professors being too casual? he thought. Using something this simple to guard the Philosopher's Stone? Or maybe… the Stone isn't even here at all. Maybe the professors planted this whole setup as a smokescreen to mislead intruders.
He looked down at the door that had already been counter-cursed, rolled his eyes, shifted the popcorn to one hand, and pointed his wand at the keyhole with the other.
With a soft click, the door unlocked instantly.
To Evans, neither the Devil's Snare nor this enchanted door counted as real obstacles. For an adult wizard, breaking an anti-curse or even blasting the door apart was child's play. The unlocking spell that confused most students was nothing to him.
But what's going on here? Evans wondered, brows furrowing. What are these professors thinking?
He glanced over at Solim, who was still happily munching popcorn. "Hey," Evans asked, "you seem to know something. What's the deal with the Philosopher's Stone?"
Every time he looked at Solim, Evans felt a little awkward. He hid it well—no one noticed—but deep down, he still felt embarrassed. After all, this eleven-year-old had seen through his Animagus form. The memory alone made Evans want to cast Obliviate on everyone who knew about it.
Solim squinted at him, chewing leisurely. "You'll figure it out soon enough. Save your questions—I'm gonna need your magic later."
By now, Harry and the others had already crossed Professor McGonagall's giant chessboard. The room was in chaos—scattered with shattered stone pieces of various sizes. Fortunately, Ronald was unhurt, thanks to something Solim had given him earlier. He was walking forward beside Harry and Hermione.
"My God, what happened here?" Draco gaped at the destruction. "Did something explode?"
"This was Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration," Solim explained to Draco and Neville, who both looked completely lost.
Many young wizards underestimated Transfiguration.
To them, it was nothing more than turning one thing into another—like Professor McGonagall's first class demonstration where she transformed a desk into a pig's head. Harmless. Silly, even. They thought unless one planned to go into transfiguration work after graduation, it didn't really matter.
Spells, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts were what most students cared about.
But that attitude was dead wrong. Any wizard with real insight knew Transfiguration was an essential skill. Nearly every powerful wizard—Dumbledore, Voldemort, Snape, even Evans himself—was a master of it.
Transfiguration was the essence of European magic. It combined offense, defense, and control into one seamless discipline. In the right hands, it could shape the battlefield itself. But it wasn't something you could just memorize from a textbook. Transfiguration required deep theory, practice, and a refined grasp of magical control.
It wasn't a spell in the usual sense. You couldn't just shout an incantation and expect it to work. You needed precision. Power. A steady will. That's why so few wizards ever mastered it.
Evans stood among the ruins of the chessboard with an odd look on his face. When he first entered the room, he thought all the simple tests before had been decoys—set up to lull intruders into a false sense of security. Surely, this was where the real danger began.
But upon closer inspection, his confidence crumbled.
The chess pieces had been transfigured, yes, but the work was… sloppy. When broken, they didn't restore themselves, and there was no binding enchantment linking the board's positions. In fact, Evans realized, you didn't even have to play the game at all.
As long as you didn't walk directly into the path of the chess pieces, you could simply walk around the entire board. They wouldn't move an inch.
That loophole was massive.
Evans couldn't take it anymore. He strode quickly to Solim's side. "Tell me, what are these Hogwarts professors even thinking? These traps don't protect the Stone at all! What's Dumbledore playing at?"
Solim smirked. He hadn't expected a wizard of Evans's level to be so impatient. But since they were nearly at the end, there was no harm in telling him now.
"You've noticed it too, haven't you?" Solim began as they walked. "Aside from the three-headed dog at the start, the rest of these so-called defenses are… well, easy. Not just for adult wizards—even senior Hogwarts students could pass through most of them."
Evans frowned. "Then why bother setting them up at all?"
"That's the point," Solim said. "The simplicity doesn't mean Dumbledore's careless. It means the real protection doesn't rely on these obstacles. They're just meant to delay intruders—and more importantly, to test Harry and his friends."
Evans blinked. "Test them?"
"Think about it," Solim continued. "If Dumbledore really wanted to guard the Stone, he'd just keep it in his office. The guardian statues alone would stop anyone without the password. These so-called traps aren't for protection. They're for observation."
Evans's lips twitched. "So you're saying… this whole thing is an amusement park built for the Boy Who Lived?"
"More or less," Solim shrugged. "Our headmaster never really cared about whoever broke into Hogwarts. What he wanted was to see how Harry performed under pressure—to understand his heart, his courage, his choices. Protecting the Philosopher's Stone was secondary."
Evans stared blankly for a few seconds, then sighed deeply. "Unbelievable."
Solim tossed the rest of his popcorn aside. "Anyway, stop eating. You'll lose your appetite in the next room."
Sure enough, as they entered the next chamber, Draco almost threw up.
"What the—ugh—what is that?" he gagged, covering his nose. Neville turned green and pinched his own tightly.
Solim casually cast a Bubble-Head Charm on himself first, sealing out the smell. Then, only after Draco and Neville had suffered for a bit, did he grant them the same spell.
Once protected, both boys looked far less miserable.
"You could've done that earlier," Draco grumbled.
Solim didn't seem apologetic at all. "Experience builds character," he said with a smirk. "You two have never faced a troll before—now you know what one smells like."
Evans, meanwhile, hadn't used any spell. The stench didn't bother him in the slightest. Compared to what he'd seen in his life, this was nothing.
No one said another word. They hurried past the unconscious troll, eager to leave the stinking chamber behind. The air grew cooler, the atmosphere tenser. The end was close now, and everyone could feel it.
"Evans," Solim said, "cast a Silencing Charm on Draco and Neville. We can't risk them making noise later."
Evans nodded, flicking his wand. The two boys' footsteps and whispers faded into perfect silence.
Solim then stepped ahead, wanting to check whether Harry, Hermione, and Ron had cleared Snape's challenge yet. Earlier, he had given Hermione a coin—but it wasn't enchanted. Not magically, at least. It was soaked in fire-resistant potion.
If thrown into flames, the coin would suppress or extinguish them temporarily. Solim was certain Snape's magical fire wasn't Fiendfyre. As long as it was ordinary enchanted flame, his potion would work.
When he reached the next empty room, Solim turned, his usual grin gone. His expression was sharp, serious.
"Alright," he said quietly. "From here on, it's real."
The group straightened, the last bits of casual chatter fading away. Ahead lay the true test—one that wasn't part of any school game.
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