“Your attention, please—”
“First years, please note that the forest on the school grounds is strictly forbidden to all students. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”
The white-bearded old man stood up.
Even across the long tables, Vincent could see his sparkling eyes, which seemed to sweep over that sea of red, though it was hard to tell if he was singling anyone out on purpose.
“Mr. Filch, the Hogwarts caretaker, has also asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used in the corridors between classes.”
“And finally, anyone who does not wish to suffer a painful, untimely death should avoid the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor.”
Vincent noticed that the first years seemed to find this funny—Harry, for instance, chuckled foolishly for a moment before realizing everyone around him had fallen silent.
The Ravenclaw students were very friendly.
Noticing the obvious confusion on Vincent’s face, one of them took the initiative to explain.
“Headmaster Dumbledore announces the rules every year at the start of term. The fourth-floor corridor is a first, though. I’ve heard forbidden places always have a reason—like the Forbidden Forest having dangerous beasts, and supposedly even werewolves.”
Vincent nodded, offering a smile in thanks.
What had been placed in the newly forbidden fourth-floor corridor this year?
Or had something suddenly appeared there, making it unsafe?
Thoughts flashed through Vincent’s mind, though his face maintained only a faint, polite smile as he enjoyed the seemingly endless feast on the long table.
The Hogwarts tables displayed a hundred and eight ways to prepare potatoes.
As a born-and-raised Ingram, Vincent had to admit the potatoes here tasted quite good—the mashed potatoes, potato cakes, French fries, and stewed potatoes each had their own unique charm.
Harry integrated into Gryffindor very quickly, perhaps because his name was famous enough that everyone held a natural fondness for him.
Thinking of this, Vincent was just about to add a mental note to his experimental record when Dumbledore continued:
“And now, before we leave the Great Hall for bed, let us sing the school song together!”
The school song?
They had to sing it even if they hadn’t heard it before?
With a light flick of his wand, a long ribbon of gold floated forth, coiling in midair for all to see like a twisting snake, spelling out line after line of text.
Vincent could clearly sense the twitches of discomfort on the faces of all the faculty members at the staff table.
Especially the one in black robes, who stared intently at Dumbledore with a dark gaze, looking as though he wished he could cut him off with his eyes alone.
But he failed.
“Everyone pick your favorite tune! Ready—sing!”
Dumbledore looked exceptionally delighted, his beard swaying gently with his movements, expressing his warm welcome to the new young witches and wizards.
And so, the entire school began singing loudly at the text above, even if everyone’s melody sounded bizarre.
“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald, Or young with scabby knees.”
The moment the singing started, Vincent understood why everyone felt a lingering resistance toward what was supposed to be a unifying school song.
Almost everyone was singing to a different tune.
A pair of Gryffindor twins—the Weasley twins he had met on the platform—were singing it to a slow, lugubrious funeral march.
Even after everyone else had finished, they carried on with the tune.
Dumbledore didn’t stop them; instead, he conducted them with his wand.
Vincent began to doubt whether this magical school was as rigorous and earnest as he had initially envisioned.
If nothing else, the Headmaster of Hogwarts seemed a bit unhinged.
But he was already enrolled, and he didn’t know if leaving would subject him to some bizarre memory-wiping procedure.
To ensure his mind remained sharp and capable of conducting all the experiments in his plan, Vincent decided to give this magical school another chance.
*
Vincent’s life at Hogwarts was rather dry and boring—or so it seemed to others.
But for a young wizard who only wanted to acquire more knowledge, it was a perfectly happy and intriguing existence, like a fish in water.
Aside from classes, the library, and meals in the Great Hall, he went almost nowhere else.
The library was his favorite spot in all of Hogwarts.
If Harry wanted to find Vincent, the probability of bumping into him there was higher than anywhere else.
Harry beamed.
“Hi, Vincent! Good to see you here.”
Vincent’s expression remained unchanged.
“You have come looking for me in the library no fewer than seven times this week.
That can hardly be described as a mere coincidence.
“Out with it. How did Professor Snape make things difficult for you this time, or what homework do you need me to help you finish?”
Vincent set down the spell book he was reading and pinched the bridge of his nose with a slight headache.
When he had first chosen to help this little boy under the oppression of the Dursleys, he hadn’t expected that he would end up being responsible for assisting him with his teachers’ homework.
Harry chuckled bashfully, scratching his head guiltily before retrieving his Potions homework from his bag.
In the next second, he naturally took a seat beside Vincent.
“Hogwarts has so many classes, but Potions is the only one giving me a massive headache.
“That, and the routes to the classrooms are just too confusing. I can’t reach them on time, and Professor Snape keeps scolding me for it.”
There were said to be 142 staircases and corridors in total, some wide, some narrow, swaying and jumping to different places.
It did sound difficult, but after a whole week of classes, still being unable to find every classroom accurately was hardly just the corridors’ fault.
Harry’s words failed to elicit much empathy from Vincent, whose superior memory had long since mapped out every route.
“You should try asking your friends for help—Hermione Granger, for instance. She’s a very clever witch, remarkably capable.”
Vincent hadn’t doubted that since first meeting her on the train, and he was even more convinced now.
If left to Harry and Ron alone, there was no telling how many times a week they would be late.
Harry didn’t realize at all that Vincent had subtly insulted his intelligence.
Instead, he happily babbled about his experiences at school that week.
From Astronomy to Herbology, and then to Defense Against the Dark Arts with that strange professor who smelled of garlic, he seemed to have an endless stream of words and energy.
Vincent couldn’t understand why Harry insisted on repeatedly sharing details about classes they both attended.
He would never do such a thing himself.
*This must be the variance between test subjects,* he thought.
Fortunately, when he first decided to help Harry, he had understood this.
He accepted the torrent of talk well enough, treating it as background noise while continuing his intended work.
Since they were in the library, Harry could only whisper to him.
Once finished, he fell quiet and honestly began looking up references to complete his Potions homework; he couldn’t leave everything to Vincent, after all.
He had come earlier specifically for this Potions essay.
In a little while, Ron and Hermione would probably find them here too.
“Just because you couldn’t answer the first three questions he asked, he gave you extra Potions homework? Should I call him dutiful and responsible, or simply deliberate in picking fights?”
Vincent flipped through the parchment in Harry’s hand, questioning Professor Snape’s methods.
“Tell me about it,” Harry muttered weakly, flopping onto the desk.
“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”
Harry mimicked Snape’s tone as he repeated the sentence.
His exaggerated expression made the normally flat corners of Vincent’s mouth turn up slightly.
“Who could have guessed he’d ask someone completely new to Potions such a specialized question?
“Well, maybe it’s not *that* specialized, but since I’ve never touched Potions before, it’s understandable that I didn’t know, right?”
Vincent said, “If you had done your prep reading as carefully before term started as I suggested…”
“I still couldn’t have pre-read the whole book!” Harry insisted resolutely.
“On this point, I actually find myself wanting to agree with Harry.”
Hermione walked over clutching a massive tome.
Comparing her petite frame to the heavy volume, one had to wonder how she could walk normally while carrying such a brick.
“I strongly support Vincent’s theory about preparing beforehand, but Professor Snape’s current actions really are intentionally picking on Harry.”
Ron was a step behind Hermione, sitting down in the chair next to the young witch.
“See, Vincent? Even Hermione supports us. It’s definitely Snape’s fault.”
“Hey—” Hermione huffed in dissatisfaction.
“You make it sound like I’m usually unreasonable.”
Vincent lowered his eyes to continue reading the parchment, surprised to find himself growing accustomed to such a noisy study atmosphere.
Diagonally across from him, a Slytherin clique was sitting.
Looking up, Vincent could see Theodore Nott’s back, as well as a hint of lingering baby fat on his cheek as he turned his profile.