With the help of the Weasley family, a few upper-year students led them into the Hogwarts Express train carriage, leaving to mind their own business only after settling them in.
They were indeed a kind and warm-hearted family, and their reaction was particularly intriguing after learning that Harry was the legendary Harry Potter.
The Weasleys’ youngest daughter kept sneaking glances at Harry, looking as though she had a million things to say to him, though in the end she only hid shyly by her mother’s side.
Even the other new students around the Weasleys who were about their age couldn’t resist sneaking several glances at him once they learned Harry’s name.
The Weasley twins stowed the luggage, pushed their younger brother into the compartment, and bounded off in a flurry of laughter, their eyes darting back to Harry right up until they left.
Harry didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but Vincent silently took note of these oddities.
Harry probably still had no idea what was really going on.
Harry might not have understood, but he could sense that his name held a special significance in the wizarding world.
Even though both of them had grown up in the Muggle world, Harry still turned to Vincent first when faced with such baffling questions.
He still remembered the look Vincent had given him back then—disdain mixed with a trace of pity: “Aside from the covers, you haven’t actually read a single word of the books we bought from Flourish and Blotts, have you? Honestly, Harry, sometimes I envy your attitude. No matter how extraordinary the knowledge is, you manage to stay completely unfazed, never risking the danger of greedily swallowing it whole.”
Harry: “…You’re just mocking me, aren’t you?”
Vincent: “I’m so glad you understood.”
Though the process had been a bit bumpy, Harry had eventually learned why everyone treated him this way.
*Hogwarts: A History* recorded the story.
He was the “Golden Boy” praised across the wizarding world, possessing what seemed to be a Merlin-blessed ability to survive an attack by the Dark Lord himself.
Looking back now, Harry suddenly felt a strange gratitude for Vincent’s scorn and sharp tongue.
At least when he had been infuriated by those annoying words, his heart hadn’t ached quite as much.
Only on the brink of entering this new world had he learned that his parents had died because of him—that they hadn’t perished in a car crash, but had heroically sacrificed themselves to protect him.
He was a child who had been loved.
A surge of emotion swelled in Harry’s chest, stitching the scars of his first ten years into a new, mended shape.
Ron stole another glance at Harry, noticing the scar on his forehead, but managed to hold back from asking anything.
It had been fine when the compartment was lively earlier, but now that quiet had descended, Vincent stared silently out the window in detached contemplation.
Harry was equally quiet, immersed in his own memories, making Ron feel as though the air inside the compartment had turned thick and suffocating, making it hard to breathe.
It was an atmosphere heavy with condensed sorrow.
The shouting of a trolley vendor outside broke the uncomfortable silence.
Harry’s eyes lit up, and Ron seized the opportunity to tell him about the fascinating snacks sold on the train.
After hearing Ron describe a couple of them, Harry pulled out a Gold Galleon and bought out the entire cart.
Vincent unwrapped one as well, and a small portrait card fell out—Albus Dumbledore.
“Chocolate Frogs come with collectible cards,” Ron explained.
“I’ve never managed to get them all, but I’ve already got several of Headmaster Dumbledore.”
Vincent looked with amusement at the biographical text on the card.
It was practically a dossier listing all his achievements—Dumbledore had even defeated the evil Dark wizard Grindelwald.
Recalling the Dumbledore he had met—a kindly, white-haired old man who looked quite sprightly for his age—Vincent couldn’t picture him wielding a wand in a duel.
“Is Headmaster Dumbledore really that powerful?” Vincent asked.
Harry’s friend Hagrid had called Dumbledore “the greatest wizard of all time.”
What kind of person could truly be considered the greatest—someone who discovered the uses of dragon blood, or someone who defeated the Dark wizard Grindelwald when he tried to tear Europe apart?
Vincent sank back into his thoughts, while Harry and Ron grew talkative over the delicious treats.
“Have you guys thought about which House you want to be in? Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin—Hogwarts has four Houses in total, and there’s a sorting test when we arrive. I don’t know how they test us; my family wouldn’t tell me a thing. But I’ll definitely be in Gryffindor. My whole family’s been in Gryffindor.”
“You have such a large family,” Harry said.
“You must all be really close.”
Harry recalled the big family he had seen on the train platform—parents and noisy older brothers alike, a close-knit and harmonious household.
Ron gave a small laugh, voicing an insincere complaint: “Having too many family members isn’t all great. Take my wand, for instance—it’s Percy’s old one. And my pet—”
He pulled a rat out of his pocket.
It was a very old rat, looking thoroughly listless, with patches of missing fur and what appeared to be an old wound on one of its paws.
But it was so small that Vincent barely cast a glance at it.
“Scabbers is really old. He wasn’t my pet originally, but he’s mine now. Having a pet is better than having none, right?”
Harry wasn’t sure how to reply, but Vincent cut in smoothly: “Having a pet is always something to be happy about. Unlike you, I don’t know how to care for pets, so I didn’t bring one at all. Anyone who can take good care of a pet is impressive. Your family really must be wonderfully close to keep even a rat so well cared for.”
Ron grinned at that.
“Speaking of which, before term started, Fred and George taught me a spell to change a rat’s color. Want to see?”
He raised his wand, eyes shining with eager excitement.
While Harry was still pondering the Houses, a soft knock sounded at the door.
A girl with bushy hair opened the compartment door.
“Hello, have any of you seen a toad? Neville’s lost his, and he’s looking for it.”
She carried an extraordinary air of confidence and boldness.
She held her chin slightly high as she spoke, holding a wand in her hand, already fully dressed in her Hogwarts robes, looking every bit the wizard.
And indeed, she was no different; everyone riding this train was an incoming Hogwarts student, destined to become a wizard.
Harry shook his head.
“I haven’t seen a toad. You could try looking somewhere else.”
Vincent followed the room’s gaze and glanced at the young girl at the door.
He shook his head and turned back to the window, as though the passing scenery outside were a breathtaking masterpiece he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
The girl’s eyes lit up when she noticed the wand in Ron’s hand.
“Are you practicing a spell? I’ve tried a few at home myself. Mind if I see what kind of magic you’re doing?”
Even as she asked, she sat right down beside Ron, fixing her eyes on the wand in his hand.
“I’m Hermione Granger, by the way.”
Though introducing herself after already taking a seat was a bit backward, everyone still introduced themselves in turn.
In the innocent world of children, exchanging names was enough to make someone a friend.
“Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”
A flash of light sparked from the tip of the wand, and the previously listless rat seemed to suffer a terrible fright, leaping up and diving straight into the pile of treats.
Harry felt a bit of regret; he had only eaten a few Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans from the box he had just opened.
Hermione looked thoroughly unimpressed.
“Is that supposed to be a spell? I’ve practiced a couple at home myself. Here, let me show you.”
Saying this, she pointed her wand straight at Harry’s battered glasses.
These were the glasses Dudley Dursley had broken.
Vincent had gone with Harry to buy a new pair, which was currently packed away in his trunk.
If the Dursleys found out he had the money to replace his glasses, there was no telling what fuss they would make, so Harry had decided to wait until he arrived at Hogwarts before switching them.
Now, seeing Hermione’s wand pointed at his glasses, he couldn’t take his eyes off the wand tip.
“Oculus Reparo.”
The glasses, which had been held together by a bit of string, were flawlessly repaired.
Only then did Vincent finally give this seemingly haughty girl a proper look.
“You’re a very clever witch.”
A new research sample.