After leaving Diagon Alley, life for Vincent and Harry seemed largely unchanged.
Except that the book in Vincent’s hands was now *Hogwarts: A History*, and Harry had taken to carrying his wand everywhere, eagerly wanting to discuss magic with Vincent.
Aside from that, their lives remained as calm and tranquil as in previous years.
There was one other thing Harry found bizarre: Aunt Petunia’s attitude toward him no longer seemed as resentful as before, but became peculiar and hard to fathom.
“Vincent, why do you think that is?” Harry asked.
“Aunt Petunia’s actually been leaving dinner for me lately. It couldn’t be that she’s suddenly sad I’m going away to school, could it?”
Harry chuckled at his own question.
How could Aunt Petunia ever be reluctant to see him go?
She had wished for him to leave their house as soon as possible so he wouldn’t waste another penny of their money.
He had spent his entire miserable childhood under Aunt Petunia’s roof, going hungry, staying cold, and sleeping in a cramped cupboard under the stairs.
Now that he was leaving for school, Aunt Petunia suddenly changed her tune and treated him well—it was suspicious no matter how he looked at it.
Vincent turned a page of his book and said nonchalantly, “Perhaps she’s looking through you at someone else.”
Harry didn’t catch Vincent’s words; he was busy experimenting to see what magical uses his wand might have.
Harry hadn’t noticed, but Vincent had seen it multiple times.
Whenever Harry was talking to him at his house, Mrs.
Petunia Dursley next door would peek through the screen of the garden fence, her gaze devoid of her usual disgust, filled instead with a deep, lingering nostalgia.
Vincent was intimately familiar with that look.
His adoptive parents used to look at him the exact same way—seeing their deceased biological son through him.
Who was Mrs.
Petunia Dursley seeing through Harry?
Her deceased sister?
Hadn’t people said their relationship was terrible?
Mrs.
Dursley didn’t even allow Harry to mention his mother at home.
Whenever the topic came up, she would bristle like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, looking ready to pounce on him.
Not that violence was uncommon in that house.
Vernon Dursley and their son Dudley Dursley frequently beat and kicked Harry.
As an outsider, Vincent had no way to intervene in their family affairs, so he could only secretly hand Harry candies and painkillers whenever Harry got hurt.
Harry didn’t take Vincent’s casual remark to heart.
Anyone bullied from childhood who was suddenly told their abuser had changed their ways and wanted to get along wouldn’t believe a word of it.
He used breadcrumbs to feed Hedwig.
At first, the lovely bird cooperated, but soon she began preening her feathers, refusing to give him so much as a second glance.
“Vincent, aren’t you going to bring a pet to school?” Harry asked.
Having owned virtually nothing of his own growing up, Harry treasured Hedwig like a prized treasure.
Vincent replied evenly, “No. Taking care of a pet is too much trouble.”
He disliked pets.
Being responsible for a living creature was a bothersome chore.
If people could abandon their own biological children, what did a pet matter?
For some reason, Vincent suddenly recalled the young boy he had seen back at Ollivanders—refined, handsome, from a wealthy family, yet clearly unhappy.
They were remarkably similar: possessing advantages that others envied, yet knowing in their hearts that they held nothing in their hands.
Vincent looked over at Harry, who was playing with Hedwig again.
He had observed this subject for a long time, yet still couldn’t decipher the source of Harry’s cheerfulness.
Perhaps the story of the “Golden Boy” could only be understood in the wizarding world where he was born.
Vincent lowered his eyes back to his book, his expression devoid of joy or sorrow, filled only with an empty stillness.
*
After a thoroughly unforgettable birthday, time seemed to fly by.
Amid Harry and Vincent’s daily anticipation, the start of the term drew nearer, and they finally packed up all their belongings to head to King’s Cross Station.
Before leaving, Vincent sent a letter to his adoptive parents, explaining that he was attending a special boarding school and might not return for a long time.
He asked them not to worry if he couldn’t reply to their letters in a timely manner.
Even though he knew they wouldn’t reply, Vincent still explained how they could send him mail.
He had asked Harry’s friend and learned that America had its own wizarding school.
If his adoptive parents wished, they could find a way to write to him through wizarding means—an owl could carry a family’s regards across the distance.
However, what Vincent wanted wasn’t his adoptive parents’ meager affection; he preferred a generous transfer of funds.
The surname Riddle was given by them, while his striking appearance came from biological parents he had never met—both carried their own secrets, and Vincent loved uncovering secrets.
*
Vincent and Harry stood amid the bustling crowds at King’s Cross Station.
It was the back-to-school season, and the station swarmed with people pushing trolleys loaded with luggage.
Parents exchanged reluctant, affectionate farewells with their children, who were full of eager nervousness.
Only Vincent and Harry stood like two fools with nowhere to go.
“Didn’t your friend tell you how to get in?” Vincent asked.
“Didn’t Headmaster Dumbledore, who treated you to ice cream, tell you how to get in?” Harry retorted.
Vincent: “…”
Harry: “…”
The very first hurdle on their journey into the wizarding world was that they couldn’t find Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, rendering them completely unable to reach the school.
Staring at the sea of commuters, Harry felt a sudden wave of helplessness.
Vincent gave him a push.
“Come on, go ask around.”
Harry looked left and right in disbelief.
“Most people here are ordinary Muggles. How are we supposed to ask about that?”
Vincent said calmly, “Ask them one by one. We can’t come all the way to the train station only to miss Hogwarts over something like this. Compared to becoming a wizard at Hogwarts, being looked at like a freak right now is no big deal. You won’t ever cross paths with these people again anyway.”
The refined boy’s eyes were resolute; as long as the desired outcome was achieved, the process was a negligible detail.
Harry began moving back and forth between Platform 9 and Platform 10, asking everyone he could find where Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was.
After Harry asked two people, Vincent suddenly spotted a familiar figure in the crowd.
Rather than asking strangers one by one, finding a wizard on their way to Hogwarts near the platforms was far quicker.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters had to be nearby.
As long as they waited patiently, they were bound to catch a student heading inside.
As for why he sent Harry off to ask around…
he had to give him something to do.
“Master Nott, the Lord is too busy today, but he instructed me to bring you a school gift. It has been placed in your trunk. He hopes you will study diligently at Hogwarts and uphold the glorious name of the Nott family.”
Theodore sneered.
*Glorious name.* How much further could he possibly humiliate the Nott name or pure-blood prestige?
Ever since the Dark Lord was defeated by a baby, their so-called glory had vanished into thin air.
It was the boy he had seen back at Ollivanders Wand Shop.
He was definitely going to Hogwarts too.
Vincent put on a polite, professional smile and walked toward his prey.
His target walked straight into the barrier wall and vanished.
Vincent: “…”
How was anyone supposed to find that?
He noticed Harry standing near the barrier.
Just as he was about to head over and inform Harry that he had found the entrance, Harry, pushing his heavily loaded trolley, backed up and accidentally bumped into someone.
It was a large family, all sharing a distinct trait of vibrant red hair.
A plump, kindly woman was ushering her children, and her expression softened the moment her eyes fell on Harry.
A soft-hearted, warm, and kind lady.
Vincent liked people like that.
They saved him a great deal of effort.
“Harry, I found the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters,” Vincent called out.
He then turned to the woman.
“Oh, hello, ma’am. Are you heading to Hogwarts as well? What a wonderfully lively family you have.”
Molly Weasley was a genuinely kindhearted woman.
Holding a small travel bag, Vincent gracefully thanked her twin sons for helping move his luggage, casually complimenting her gentle charm and lovely appearance.
His flattering words sounded almost poetic yet perfectly natural, leaving Molly beaming from ear to ear within seconds.
Kindhearted people really saved a person effort—literally so.