Hermione made up with her friends.
Just as mysteriously as Vincent had discovered their falling out, when he saw them again, they were the Gryffindor trio once more.
Perhaps that was the strange connection between friends: falling out over peculiar things, yet always patching things up in the end.
Vincent made another note in his observation journal: *Sudden arguments and reconciliations are normal phenomena that can—and frequently do—occur between friends.*
*Friend*.
Even the word itself seemed to carry a whiff of irrationality.
Vincent was well aware that a barrier stood between him and the real world.
He hadn’t quite figured it out yet, but he knew he eventually would.
Human development was a process of moving from ignorance to understanding.
Experience brought growth, and even if he lacked enough time to experience everything firsthand, it didn’t matter—Vincent was an expert observer.
Having a vast pool of subjects to observe could yield enough raw experience for him to draw the conclusions he sought.
Since arriving at Hogwarts, Vincent had recorded quite a lot in his observation journal.
There were entries about Harry, as well as the students he had newly met from Gryffindor and Slytherin.
Among them, a dedicated category was reserved specifically for Theodore Nott.
Someone who was so similar to him, yet entirely different, naturally deserved extra thought and attention.
Vincent’s suspicion regarding Professor Quirrell hadn’t lessened, but at the moment, Quirrell wasn’t the top priority.
The whole of Hogwarts had descended into a festive mood—Christmas was fast approaching.
Christmas had originally been deeply intertwined with religion, but the Muggle world had evolved it into a general celebration.
Even those who held no religious faith couldn’t bring themselves to reject Christmas.
Wizards didn’t practice the so-called religions of Muggles; perhaps to them, the stories written in evangelical texts were less interesting than children’s fairy tales.
Yet no one could say for certain why wizards had started celebrating the holiday in the first place.
The Muggles’ origin lay in religion, and perhaps the wizards’ did as well, but no one cared about that anymore.
Christmas—the mere mention of the word conjured up images of days when even the air tasted sweet.
Hogwarts was a full-time boarding school that opened its links to the outside world only during special holidays.
Young witches and wizards could take the familiar Hogwarts Express out of school, return to their homes, and share everything that had happened at school face-to-face with their families.
Most of the students chose to reunite with their parents over the holiday, though there were always one or two exceptions each year.
Hogwarts thoughtfully provided them with the option to stay at school.
Vincent’s adoptive parents were no longer in Britain, and there had been no news from them for a long time since their last contact.
Quite naturally, he chose to stay at school.
Why return to a cold, lifeless house on Privet Drive devoid of any warmth when he could spend a magical Christmas at Hogwarts?
He did prefer peace and quiet, but during a holiday like this, listening to the occasional burst of laughter and cheer was a pleasant change.
Harry naturally chose to stay at Hogwarts as well.
He certainly didn’t feel he ought to head back to Privet Drive to spend Christmas with Aunt Petunia and the rest of them.
“Looks like the two of us are spending Christmas together again this year. But let’s get one thing straight—I don’t want chocolate for my present this time,” Harry said with excitement as he hovered next to Vincent.
Not far off, Hagrid was dragging a massive Christmas tree in through the main doors.
Seeing him from downstairs, Harry stood on tiptoe to peek over, and Hagrid clearly noticed them as well.
A thick blanket of white snow covered the courtyard in front of Hogwarts Castle, and the trail Hagrid left behind as he dragged the fir tree was impossible to miss.
If anyone had been admiring the scenery from a high tower at that moment, they would surely have blamed him for being overly diligent, continuing to labor even as snow fell around him.
What was a towering tree to them was hardly a difficult task for a half-giant with giant blood running through his veins.
“That tree sure is beautiful.”
Hermione wasn’t staying at Hogwarts, but she couldn’t help staring wistfully at the Christmas tree as well.
The weather wasn’t particularly suited for chatting outdoors.
Harry and the others were heading to class and had only paused for a couple of sentences when they happened to run into Vincent passing by.
Ron had also chosen to stay at Hogwarts.
Although he could have gone home, this year he preferred to spend Christmas alongside his friends—such as Harry, and Vincent too.
Mrs.
Weasley didn’t mind at all; word was that they were going overseas to visit their son who lived abroad and spend Christmas with him.
This made Harry feel much better, knowing he hadn’t disrupted his friend’s family holiday.
Apart from them, all the ungraduated Weasleys were staying behind.
During the Christmas break, Gryffindor would be the most populated house at Hogwarts.
“Hagrid, that tree looks fantastic!” Ron said, liking the tree just as much.
A Christmas tree was the very soul of the holiday.
Having a gorgeous, beautifully decorated tree would make their Christmas all the more wonderful.
After all, this was the tree that was going to spend Christmas with them.
“Aye, picked it out real careful, I did. I’ll be dragging it into the Great Hall in a bit. If you lot want, you can come help decorate it, too.”
Hagrid still wasn’t particularly fond of Vincent, but he had managed to reach a point where he could ignore him without harboring overt hostility.
As for chatting with him or becoming friends who shared personal matters like Harry and Ron did, there was still a long way to go.
Hogwarts was not overly strict with its young students, and in little matters like this, the staff were more than happy to grant them complete freedom.
Hanging a few stars or lovely bows on the Christmas tree—no one would refuse that.
Even the sternest and most serious Professor McGonagall would take delight in the children’s whimsical ideas.
Christmas—a merry Christmas.
Watching the snowflakes drift down from the sky, Vincent could almost sense a hint of sweetness riding on the chilly breeze.
It wasn’t the cloying scent of icing, nor was it the crisp smell of ice and snow rushing through an open window.
He couldn’t quite describe it, but it seemed to carry a faint trace of warmth.
How strange that he could feel warmth in a world enveloped by ice and snow.
Hagrid bid them goodbye and prepared to keep dragging the Christmas tree toward the Great Hall.
Before leaving, he gave Vincent, who stood beside Harry, another look that he believed was subtle.
Even after all this time, and despite Dumbledore’s personal assurance, Hagrid still felt somewhat uneasy whenever he saw this young wizard.
Vincent was used to it.
It was just his face that made people feel uneasy.
But for a face as handsome as his to unsettle people, what on earth had the previous Riddle done to earn such universal outrage?
While searching for traces of the previous Riddle at Hogwarts, Vincent had found his trophy.
A Slytherin prefect who had earned a trophy at Hogwarts, and who was said to have applied to stay on as staff after graduation, though Dumbledore had turned him down.
Aside from that, what he did after graduating, where he went, and any later news about him—Vincent hadn’t been able to find a single trace.
It had happened too long ago.
If that Riddle were still alive, he would be an adult wizard in his sixties or seventies now…
Wizards weren’t like Muggles, so Vincent couldn’t quite bring himself to call him an old man.
If he were still alive, he would definitely have left traces behind.
The professors at Hogwarts couldn’t possibly be entirely in the dark either—they were hiding things from him, whether on Dumbledore’s orders or out of their own volition.
He turned his head to avoid Hagrid’s inquiring gaze; he had no desire to respond to an observation that offered no useful information.
At that exact moment, as he turned his head, he caught sight of Theodore walking away behind him, and that faint sense of warmth suddenly grew strikingly intense.
*It was Theodore.*
Suddenly, Vincent found it much more logical.
If it was Theodore, it wasn’t strange at all for a warm feeling to linger even in the freezing snow.