“So, when exactly did you two meet?”
Harry had watched Theodore say something that caused Vincent to display a rare expression of utter bewilderment.
As soon as Theodore left, Harry hurried over and casually asked how they knew each other.
“Before I came to Hogwarts,” Vincent said, watching the direction Theodore had gone and realizing he seemed to have been played.
He naturally ignored the fact that he had been the one who initiated the conversation.
Vincent didn’t even realize it himself, but he was starting to behave a bit like a typical, foolish child—unable to resist pestering anyone who piqued his interest.
He hadn’t noticed, but the sharp Miss Granger had.
Stepping behind Harry and Ron, she didn’t rush forward to speak to Vincent.
Instead, her gaze followed his toward the corridor bend where Theodore had vanished.
Ron had no love for Slytherins, though luckily Malfoy bore the brunt of his hostility.
Compared to Malfoy, Ron held a milder stance toward Nott, whose presence in Slytherin was relatively low-profile.
Slytherin was intensely clannish.
Outsiders had no real idea what went on inside, knowing only that Malfoy was infamous and the Nott family was prominent, albeit much more reserved.
The first-years gave away very little.
Apart from high-profile families like the Malfoys and the Parkinsons, no one else had really built a name for themselves yet.
“I thought you were finally going to air out your beef with Slytherins,” Ron said, flinging an arm over Harry’s shoulders to tell him to calm down.
“Though I don’t really have an opinion on Nott.”
“Relax, Harry. Vincent’s sharp. He won’t get fooled by a Slytherin that easily.”
With Theodore gone, the cold wind dispersed the warm air around Vincent once more.
He seemed to step back into his cool, detached persona as a typical Ravenclaw.
“I agree with you, Ron.”
Vincent was about to say something else when Hermione spoke first.
“Before coming to Hogwarts? That sounds like the start of some weird fairy tale.”
Harry suddenly felt even stranger about it.
A vague memory struck him—he seemed to recall where he had seen Theodore Nott before.
“Vincent, was he the boy in Ollivanders?” Harry asked.
“I think we brushed past him there, and again on the Hogwarts platform. I can’t believe I remember that so clearly! Don’t tell me you two knew each other back then and you never mentioned it?”
Memory was like dust-covered glass; the moment a tiny fragment was recalled, it was like the light of a Scourgify spell sweeping across it, instantly wiping away the haze.
Vincent knew he had to quickly change the subject to deflect their attention.
“Hermione, make sure to get some rest when you go back to the Muggle world for Christmas. We’ll handle the rest. Who knows, maybe by the time you’re back, I’ll have found a clue.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Hermione said, playing along, which only made Vincent feel even more unsettled.
Ron quickly put the little episode out of his mind.
Harry still wanted to press further, but there would be plenty of time later, so he didn’t rush.
What gave Vincent a headache was Hermione.
After her offhand comment, she fell silent.
Far from putting him at ease, it made him feel the clever Miss Granger was harboring even more suspicions, biding her time to dig up more of his secrets.
“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not like I’m going to sneak back during Christmas break just to see if you and Theodore Nott exchanged chocolates,” Hermione remarked.
Clutching her books to her chest, she flashed Vincent a breezy smile before turning and walking away.
Vincent suddenly realized he had left some sort of leverage in the hands of this sharp, witty young witch, even if he didn’t quite know what that leverage was yet.
Having a somewhat close relationship with a Slytherin hardly counted as blackmail material.
Besides, Theodore didn’t even consider them close—their relationship was strictly at the “acquaintance” stage.
Theodore Nott really was strange.
How did he manage to notice every time Vincent approached him intentionally?
Had his first impression made him that tense?
*
Vincent really had been busy lately.
Harry’s accusation against Professor Snape still lacked concrete evidence, their investigation into the Philosopher’s Stone required more sources of information, his relation with Theodore remained distant, and Professor Quirrell was watching him like a hawk, giving him the lingering sensation of being targeted by something terrible.
Who on earth called Hogwarts the safest place in the world?
In just half a year, before Christmas had even arrived, he had racked up more problems than in the previous eleven years of his life combined.
Weighed down by these thoughts and worries, Christmas arrived at last.
Students departed one after another aboard the Hogwarts Express, leaving the usually bustling castle as silent and peaceful as falling snow.
If one listened closely, the delicate pitter-patter of snowflakes landing on the eaves could be heard echoing through the empty corridors.
The bright sunlight reflected off the blanket of white felt cozy, though staring at it too long was unwise—snow blindness was no pleasant experience.
Most students staying at Hogwarts didn’t spend all day trudging through the snow anyway.
They had plenty of time to lounge in their common rooms, the Great Hall, or even the library—spaces that now felt entirely their own.
Vincent was one of those who left the common room to enjoy the quiet of the library.
Harry had originally planned to come with him, but the Gryffindor common room was simply too comfortable.
He and Ron could sink into the plush armchairs by the fireplace, warm and cozy, wasting away the entire day.
So far, the number of times Harry had beaten Ron at Wizard’s Chess could be counted on one hand, yet he never grew tired of playing.
In Hermione’s words, Wizard’s Chess was a barbaric game where pieces smashed each other over the head with weapons.
Vincent found it somewhat intriguing, though he hadn’t yet had the chance to learn from Ron.
Getting competitive in Wizard’s Chess could be quite loud, and neither Harry nor Ron fancied getting lectured by Madam Pince before being politely kicked out of the library.
*
The Hogwarts library was the favorite haunt of Ravenclaws—or rather, anyone who loved learning could hardly dislike it.
Vincent held a copy of *The Compendium of Spells*—a fresh one.
He lost count of how many compendiums of spells he had already read through in the Hogwarts library.
Incantations were a key medium through which wizards directed their magic, and properly modifying a spell could elevate magic to an entirely new level.
Which was precisely why, upon noticing Theodore’s unusually warm body temperature, he had wondered if Theodore had modified the Warming Charm.
So far, Vincent had failed to successfully modify a single spell.
For someone so immensely gifted in academics, it was a rare touch of frustration.
“Knowledge in the wizarding world is as vast as an ocean, much like the spells we use daily—in practice, we only rely on about a hundred or so.
Trying to master too many at once will only weigh your learning down.
“Perhaps you could take things slowly and not put so much pressure on yourself.”
Headmaster Dumbledore was like a fixed NPC in Hogwarts, randomly spawning all over the castle.
Vincent calmly turned a page to read the next spell, only looking up reluctantly when Dumbledore sat down across from him.
“Good afternoon, Headmaster Dumbledore. I assumed you would be busy arranging tonight’s feast.”
Far from being offended by the remark, Dumbledore chuckled.
“You are quite right.
Ordinarily, I ought to be doing just that, but fortunately I have a most exceptional Deputy Headmistress.
Minerva will see to the dinner arrangements, ensuring every young witch and wizard staying at Hogwarts feels the warmth of home.
“I am doing something similar myself, albeit on a slightly smaller scale. Tell me, Vincent, have you enjoyed your first half-year at Hogwarts?”
*So the Headmaster works this hard, moonlighting as a student counselor.
Perhaps Hogwarts should spend a bit extra to hire a proper psychology professor,* Vincent thought.
He exercised great restraint, holding back the Muggle jargon he wanted to use to mock Dumbledore’s behavior.
“It’s been very good, Headmaster Dumbledore. But if you were to listen a bit more closely to what the students are actually thinking, you might realize Hogwarts isn’t as peaceful as it appears on the surface—and you might find yourself with even more to do.”
Even now, Harry’s accusations against Snape hadn’t been withdrawn, even if he had only voiced them to his friends.
Dumbledore could tell that Vincent wasn’t in the mood to chat.
“Well then, it seems I did not pick a very opportune moment.”
Vincent had tried to bring up his suspicions about Professor Quirrell before, but Dumbledore had deflected his concerns with effortless ease.
Vincent had no choice but to temporarily assume Dumbledore knew what he was doing.
On the surface, at least.
Once he gathered solid evidence, he wouldn’t even need to go through Dumbledore—he might just handle Quirrell himself.
“I have never doubted your capabilities. The young witches and wizards of Hogwarts possess unparalleled magical talent. With proper learning and guidance, your souls will surely shine brilliantly.”
Dumbledore truly behaved like an NPC, popping up out of nowhere, delivering a few cryptic lines, and preparing to leave.
“By the way, while acting alone is certainly convenient, proper teamwork can achieve twice the results with half the effort.”
Vincent found him stranger and stranger.
Dumbledore clearly didn’t trust him completely, yet he acted so magnanimous and relaxed when dealing with him…
Well, actually, Vincent could tell that Dumbledore was being entirely sincere.
Which only made it all the stranger.
Watching the old white-haired man quietly walk away, Vincent suddenly felt an unspeakable wave of loneliness.
The white snow outside didn’t carry this feeling, nor did the quiet, empty library.
He had lost his soulmate—his confidant.
Vincent realized this truth.
He had never had a true kindred spirit.
Every person he had interacted with so far had been carefully selected; no one had ever met the standard of a true confidant.
Theodore…
he was merely a similar control sample under variable isolation, hardly a confidant.
The loneliness brought on by Dumbledore came out of nowhere, leaving Vincent unable to rationalize or explain it even on his way to the Christmas Eve feast.
*He really is a terrifying old wizard.
His methods are far more powerful than I imagined.*
This thought reached its peak at the Christmas Eve dinner!