Harry Potter’s mind had been shrouded in a fog regarding the corridor on the fourth floor.
What, exactly, was inside that fourth-floor corridor?
Connecting the guard dog kept there, the injuries Severus Snape bore after the troll’s intrusion, and Snape’s peculiar attitude toward him, Harry felt he was on the verge of understanding something—though he couldn’t be entirely sure yet.
The troll incident had startled the young witches and wizards at Hogwarts, but the brave little Gryffindors had shone brightly throughout the ordeal.
“None of us saw Ron’s move coming! He used the Levitation Charm to knock out the troll in one go, and Professor McGonagall gave our house a ton of points for it!” Harry’s excitement bubbled through his words, infecting the air around them.
Vincent hadn’t taken part in any of it; he had only heard the thrilling tale from Harry.
Belonging to different houses, the two of them didn’t cross paths often, usually meeting up only in the library.
Previously, Harry had shared his suspicions with him.
Now, there was another topic added to the mix—the troll.
Harry poured out all his thoughts and theories to Vincent.
At first, Vincent had treated it as mere casual chatter, but as the pieces were laid out line by line, he gradually understood what Harry was driving at.
“You’ve told me this three times already, Harry. Ron was indeed very brave—he certainly did Gryffindor’s reputation justice. And all of you are quite impressive for uncovering so many clues.”
Vincent spoke without the slightest inflection.
Though the words sounded like praise, they were entirely devoid of emotion.
The detached tone fell like a bucket of ice water splashed over Harry.
Having grown quite familiar with Vincent, Harry understood what he meant, but he was still unwilling to give up.
“Aren’t we going to do something?”
Harry’s voice carried a tentative note, hoping he might get the response he was looking for from Vincent.
Vincent, however, failed to understand Harry’s anxiety.
“What *can* you do?” he asked back.
First-year students were doing well enough just taking care of themselves.
Having barely crossed the threshold of the magical world, they were far too green and powerless against profound magic and perilous hazards.
What help could they possibly expect to be?
These were his private thoughts, which Vincent refrained from stating aloud.
It would be too dampening.
His attitude was already clear enough for Harry to grasp his stance; there was no need to voice unnecessary pleasantries or harsh truths.
In truth, he was quite a considerate person.
Harry scratched his head and said eagerly, “Not *you*, but *us*. Vincent, you’ll help us brainstorm a way out of this, right?”
The blunt request did not yield the hoped-for response.
Vincent shook his head and said, “My solution is—do nothing at all. Isn’t Albus Dumbledore supposed to be the greatest wizard of light? He will handle everything.”
Vincent spoke in a calm, firm tone; he had no desire to get dragged into such troublesome affairs.
Ron and Hermione were sitting two chairs behind Harry.
The three had come together, with Harry acting as the vanguard.
Had Vincent shown any interest in joining them, Ron and Hermione would have popped over immediately to form a four-person squad.
If Vincent refused, having only Harry talk to him kept things from feeling overly formal.
Only children would think an invitation from three people carried too much weight.
At their age, nothing they did came across as truly solemn—only childishly amusing.
Hearing Vincent’s reply, the trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a bit crestfallen.
They had come to Vincent full of hope to bounce ideas off him, never expecting to receive a response like this.
Hermione sighed helplessly.
She had spent countless hours in the library scouring books, hoping to find some clue about the secret of the fourth-floor corridor.
Yet all her efforts seemed to have been in vain.
The library possessed a vast sea of volumes, but mentions of the fourth-floor corridor were practically nonexistent.
Their clues were far too scarce, making their search as daunting as looking for a needle in an ocean.
Of course there were none.
Before this year, there was nothing unusual about the fourth-floor corridor, so why would the library have records on it?
Seeing their crestfallen expressions, Vincent offered a bit of constructive advice after all.
“If the surroundings won’t yield any new clues, you have to learn to get them from people. Whoever is most likely to know about three-headed dogs should be your target.”
Saying this, Vincent felt a faint wave of helplessness.
How long had he known Harry?
He had always thought he’d taught Harry plenty of methods and knowledge, but it seemed Harry was still far too green and in desperate need of more practical experience.
Sometimes Vincent couldn’t understand why he treated Harry differently.
The sense of familiarity he felt toward Harry struck him as baffling, considering they shared no overlapping past experiences whatsoever.
Harry’s eyes instantly lit up in realization.
“It’s Hagrid!” Harry gasped excitedly under his breath.
When he first met Hagrid, Hagrid had mentioned how much he cared for magical creatures.
If anyone possessed information about magical beasts, going to Hagrid was guaranteed to yield results.
The three young Gryffindors immediately decided to pay Hagrid a visit.
*
Vincent didn’t get involved in their affair.
Instead, he gathered quite a few bits of news from elsewhere.
Draco Malfoy—the arrogant pure-blood wizard who seemed to care for nothing and no one besides himself.
Watching Malfoy strut about with his nose in the air, Vincent controlled himself so as not to frown.
He loathed anyone who acted high and mighty in front of him, but his objective this time was to make friends with Draco Malfoy.
He was actually quite skilled at befriending people; his only Waterloo had occurred with Theodore Nott.
Since he hadn’t succeeded on the first attempt, he would try a more indirect approach—after talking with Malfoy.
Under clear skies and bright sunshine, over lush green grass near a stone pillar, a group of Slytherins gathered, conversing in hushed tones.
Vincent walked up with a smile and spoke in a polite tone, “Mr. Malfoy, it’s an honor to finally talk to you properly. I’ve always heard you’re one of the most brilliant students in Slytherin House.”
He had crossed paths with Draco Malfoy before, but they hadn’t interacted since entering Hogwarts.
Relying on their prior acquaintance, striking up a conversation now didn’t seem out of place.
Donning an intensely hypocritical mask of admiration, Vincent knew exactly how to handle someone like Malfoy.
Get close first, gradually make the other party realize his ability, and then slowly shift their relative power dynamic—Vincent himself was curious as to why he was so adept at this.
If forced to give a reason, perhaps his experiences in the orphanage had taught him a thing or two.
Seeing an unfamiliar wizard who wasn’t even from Slytherin, Draco initially had no desire to talk to him.
When he’d seen him before, he had thought he was a reclusive pure-blood child; as it turned out, he was merely from the Muggle world and sorted into Ravenclaw to boot—boring in every sense.
However, the boy spoke far too pleasantly.
Draco raised his chin slightly and said with smug satisfaction, “Of course. I am the heir to the Malfoy family, naturally superior. What, did you only just realize? Pity you aren’t in Slytherin, or you might have had the chance to follow my lead.”
His tone dripped with arrogance.
Beside him, Goyle and Crabbe looked surprised, as if shocked to find someone even better at flattering Draco than they were.
The two plump boys seemed a little displeased by Vincent’s advances, but since Draco appeared quite interested, they didn’t dare voice any objections.
Out of sight, out of mind—they took a few steps back.
One would have to listen intently to catch their conversation now, ensuring they wouldn’t interrupt Draco.
Seeing Draco’s two sidekicks being so tactful, Vincent hadn’t expected things to go so smoothly today.
He continued to Draco Malfoy, “I hear you’re quite knowledgeable about magical creatures as well. I wonder if you’ve ever heard of a three-headed dog?”
Despite having claimed he wouldn’t meddle in Harry’s affairs, Vincent almost instantly regretted asking about the three-headed dog.
He should have asked about something more important, like Theodore Nott.
Malfoy’s brow furrowed.
He hadn’t expected the boy’s first question to be about a three-headed dog.
Did Slytherin sound like a house associated with magical creatures?
He should be asking a Hufflepuff.
Still, this was Vincent Riddle.
Vincent had kept a low profile at Hogwarts, but among the faculty, almost every professor praised him as an exceptionally diligent student, holding him in even higher regard than Hermione Granger from Gryffindor.
Now that this boy had a problem he couldn’t solve and had come to ask him, Draco felt immensely flattered and smug.
He pondered for a moment and realized he actually did know something about three-headed dogs.
Clearing his throat softly, he said, “A three-headed dog? Of course I know about them. They’re extremely dangerous magical creatures. Though unlike those foolish Gryffindors, I wouldn’t go around provoking one.”
Though inwardly thrilled, Draco still put on a disdainful front.
Vincent smiled faintly.
Malfoy’s posturing was entirely transparent to him.
A spoiled child—he knew precisely how to manage such boys.
Adopting a tone even more disingenuous than Draco’s, he said, “Draco, you truly are as insightful as I thought. I agree, those Gryffindors are far too reckless. But I must ask out of curiosity—how did you know about three-headed dogs?”
Malfoy hesitated for a second, but the expression on Vincent’s face was disarmingly earnest.
“I read about it in a book. The Malfoy family has a library as large as an entire room—hardly inferior to Hogwarts. My father loves collecting ancient texts of all kinds.”
Vincent nodded.
“I see. Draco, your father is truly visionary. Books are invaluable treasures.”
Hearing Vincent’s words, Malfoy swelled with even greater pride.
He found Vincent to be a sensible person, far less annoying than those Gryffindors.
Consequently, his attitude toward Vincent softened, so much so that he failed to notice Vincent had seamlessly dropped “Malfoy” and started calling him “Draco.”
“You’re certainly much more tactful than when we last met.”
“Perhaps growing up makes one realize that superior individuals were nearby all along.”
Uncertain about the relationship between Draco and Theodore Nott, Vincent pondered how to subtly steer the conversation toward Nott.