Exams

Hogwarts' end-of-year examination week had finally arrived, and the castle was steeped in an atmosphere of tension and anxiety. Students buried themselves in their final revisions, and the library was packed to capacity.

Silas Cyril, the Ravenclaw student who usually seemed so indifferent to his studies, displayed astonishing—or rather, expected—ability in the examination room.

Transfiguration examination:

Professor McGonagall required them to turn a beetle into an exquisite snuffbox. Silas took out his wand and lightly tapped the beetle scuttling about on the desk, barely even uttering an incantation. A soft glow flashed, and the beetle vanished, replaced by a silver snuffbox set with tiny gemstones and engraved with intricate vine patterns. Its lid could even open and close automatically. Professor McGonagall picked up the snuffbox and examined it closely, a flicker of barely concealed surprise and approval passing through her eyes. In the end, she awarded an impeccable "O (Outstanding)."

Charms examination:

Professor Flitwick required them to make a pineapple tap-dance across the desk. Silas completed it effortlessly once more. The pineapple he conjured not only performed standard tap-dancing steps, but even spun and glided across the desk before finishing with an elegant bow, like a professional dancer. Professor Flitwick was so excited that he nearly fell off his pile of books, and he awarded an "O" without hesitation.

Potions examination:

This was the most closely watched examination, because everyone knew how Snape felt about Silas. The task was to brew a Forgetfulness Potion. Snape glided silently through the classroom like an enormous bat, inspecting every student's work with icy eyes. When he reached Silas's workstation, he stopped. Silas's movements flowed smoothly and naturally, every step incomparably precise, his heat control exactly right. The finished potion possessed a textbook-perfect mother-of-pearl sheen and spiraling steam. Snape stared at the cauldron, his expression terrifyingly dark. He could not find the slightest flaw. In the end, he could only announce coldly, in a voice that seemed squeezed out from between his teeth, "...O." Then he turned and left at once, as though staying a second longer would suffocate him.

However, when it came to the A History of Magic examination:

The examination hall was silent, save for the scratch of quills across parchment. Silas looked at the questions on Goblin Rebellions, the International Statute of Secrecy, and the Medieval Witch Burnings, and his head began to spin. He tried desperately to recall Professor Binns's hypnotic lectures, only to find his mind completely blank.

Why did the goblins rebel? Poor treatment? What year was the Statute of Secrecy enacted? 1692? Probably? Witch burnings... what did that have to do with A History of Magic? Weren't those just stupid things Muggles did? Did the ruling class use wizards as scapegoats for their mistakes?

He scratched at his head and ears, barely managing to write a few lines before he started making things up, mixing one thing with another. When he handed in his paper, he looked at the crooked writing and vast empty spaces on it, then covered his face in agony.

"It's over... I'm afraid this one's going to be a 'D'..." Silas lamented. He was truly helpless when it came to a subject that relied entirely on memorization.

In the end, Silas Cyril completed his first year with "O" grades in the overwhelming majority of subjects, but most likely a disastrous result in A History of Magic. This extreme distribution of grades perfectly reflected his complicated and contradictory nature: he possessed extraordinary talent for practical magic, yet when it came to theoretical knowledge requiring rote memorization... he had terminal laziness.

While Silas battled his A History of Magic paper in the examination hall, Harry Potter had already combined his remarkable deductive ability with the fragments he had heard about Snape and reached what he considered an indisputable conclusion: Professor Snape would steal the Philosopher's Stone from the forbidden third-floor corridor today, after the final examinations ended and everyone's attention was scattered!

He immediately found Ron and shared this "major discovery." (Hermione had not entirely believed Harry's speculation, partly because of Silas's earlier assessment that Snape was "just a bastard who bullied students, not an accomplice of the Dark Lord," and partly because she trusted Dumbledore's arrangements more. Besides, she still had revision to do, so she had not come along this time.)

The two little lions, filled with a sense of duty to "save the Philosopher's Stone and stop Snape," secretly slipped up to the forbidden door on the fourth floor.

Unexpectedly, they passed the earlier obstacles quite smoothly:

Fluffy the three-headed dog: Harry used an owl whistle to put it to sleep, and they slipped past.

Devil's Snare: Ron remembered Hermione's instructions—though she had not come, her knowledge had remained—and stayed calm and still. The Devil's Snare released them.

Flying keys: Harry's talent as a Seeker came into play again. Riding a broomstick, he accurately caught the old key.

They made their way to the door of the next room without incident. However, the situation here was not quite the same as it had been in the story—there was no knocked-out troll in the room.

Because in this timeline disrupted by Silas, Voldemort, with the aid of the sling ring, had no need to make Quirrell clear the obstacles one by one as in the original story. He had simply opened a portal directly to the final room where the Mirror of Erised was located. Naturally, there was no need to deal with the guardians of the earlier obstacles, including this troll.

So, when Harry and Ron cautiously pushed open the door, what they saw before them was a living, enormous mountain troll. It was boredly striking the ground with a wooden club, reeking horribly!

The troll immediately noticed the two intruders as well. Its murky little eyes lit up at once, and it let out a deep roar. Raising its massive club, it charged toward them with heavy steps!

"Uh-oh..." Harry's face went deathly pale in an instant, and his heart nearly leapt out of his throat. Only then did he remember that Silas seemed to have mentioned Quirrell bringing a troll into the castle, only for it to be dealt with on Halloween... so why was there another one here?!

Ron was even more terrified. He grabbed Harry's arm, his voice cracking as he screamed, "Run! Harry! Run! Have you forgotten what Silas said?!"

As Ron dragged him backward, Harry's mind went completely blank. He asked instinctively, "What... what did he say?!"

Ron used all his strength to yank Harry out of the room, then slammed the door shut with a BANG, bracing himself against it with his back. As the troll inside began smashing against the door, he shouted, "He said before, 'It isn't worth risking your life!' Are we insane, risking our lives against a troll over an uncertain guess?! Run!!"

Reason—and the memory of Silas's practical maxim—finally overcame impulse. Harry instantly came to his senses as well. Yes, they were only first-year students. Charging headlong at a vicious troll was no different from throwing their lives away!

The two did not hesitate any longer. They fled back the way they had come at the speed of a hundred-meter sprint, leaving the troll's roars and the sounds of it battering the door far behind. This time, Gryffindor courage chose a strategic retreat in the face of the more important principle of "staying alive." As for the Philosopher's Stone? They would leave Professor Dumbledore to worry about that!