After parting ways with Theodore Nott, Vincent remained in a surprisingly good mood.
Harry kept shooting him sideways glances, wondering if his usually aloof friend was simply thrilled about finally arriving at Hogwarts.
As the Hogwarts Express slowed to a crawl and came to a halt, the passengers jostled and squeezed past one another, the young witches and wizards spilling out onto a dark, tiny platform.
The nighttime chill crept up Harry’s pant legs, making him shudder despite himself.
Vincent, with impressive foresight, had already bundled up in extra layers beneath his school robes.
“I warned you ten minutes ago,” Vincent noted.
Harry adjusted to the cold, slowly accepting the temperature.
“Yeah, you did. You said anyone with a functioning brain would prepare in advance. How was I supposed to know you meant putting on extra clothes?”
Ron and Hermione followed close behind.
Looking up, they saw a lantern bobbing above their heads.
Harry and Vincent heard a familiar voice.
“Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here!”
It was Hagrid, the giant fellow who had acted so strangely when he heard Vincent’s name.
They followed the lantern swinging in Hagrid’s hand, treading down a steep, narrow path.
Shadows pressed tightly around them—perhaps dense woods, or tall thickets of bushes.
At the end of the narrow path, illuminated by the dim lantern light and a faint sliver of moonbeams, stretched a vast, dark lake.
Perched atop a high mountain on the opposite shore stood a magnificent, towering castle.
Vincent stared at the castle, thrown off by a sudden swell of emotion inside him.
Excitement?
Joy?
He had thought he was completely prepared for this moment.
Hagrid watched over the students as they boarded a fleet of small boats.
A tiny lantern hung at the prow of each, scattering specks of starlight across the pitch-black water.
They glided across the lake in their gently swaying boats toward Hogwarts Castle.
While Harry chatted with his newfound friends, Vincent found his attention drifting to the water below.
It was remarkably dark.
“This is the Black Lake,” Hagrid called out.
“Every firs’-year crosses the water to reach Hogwarts. It’s how the four founders originally entered the castle.”
Vincent gave a calm nod.
The name certainly fit.
Hagrid led the first-years up to the heavy wooden doors of Hogwarts Castle and knocked, ushering them into the magical world.
The doors swung open immediately to reveal a stern, impeccably groomed witch in emerald-green robes.
Emerald green was not an easy color to pull off, yet on her, it lent a distinct, commanding air.
Vincent was hardly one for flattery, rarely viewing the world through an appreciative lens.
Yet he could tell this witch was powerful.
And powerful people deserved a closer look.
Much like an extraordinary experimental specimen deserved extra effort from a top scientist.
The last wizard he had met whom he deemed truly powerful was Albus Dumbledore, who had spoken to him in such bizarre riddles back in Diagon Alley.
Hagrid gave a respectful nod to Professor McGonagall.
“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall.”
Professor McGonagall—as the Hogwarts acceptance letter had noted, she was the Deputy Headmistress of this school of magic.
She guided the young witches and wizards across the flagged stone floor, lined with flickering torches.
As they climbed the stone steps, every detail of the castle’s grand interior came into sharp view.
Before ushering them into the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall carefully explained what was expected of them.
Having thoroughly read *Hogwarts: A History* after returning from Diagon Alley, Vincent was already familiar with everything she said.
Even Harry had committed the details to memory.
As Professor McGonagall turned and entered the Great Hall to make preparations, Harry leaned over to whisper to Vincent.
“How do they accurately decide which house to sort us into? I don’t think the book mentioned that, did it?”
“Why not ask Ron? His brothers are all here at Hogwarts.”
Harry turned to Ron, who scratched his head nervously.
“I think it’s some kind of test. I’m not really sure. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I’m pretty sure he was joking.”
Hermione, who had seemed thoroughly confident since they met, was now visibly anxious, muttering spells and facts under her breath.
Vincent felt no trace of nervousness.
He had a feeling whatever Hogwarts threw at them wouldn’t be overly difficult.
He was entirely confident that regardless of the test, he would pass with ease.
Peering over the crowd of huddled heads, Vincent spotted Draco Malfoy, whom he had met once before, as well as Theodore Nott, with whom he had enjoyed a pleasant conversation on the Hogwarts Express.
“So it’s true what they were saying. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”
The blonde boy from his memory strutted over, oozing his usual arrogant air, yet proactively extended a hand toward Harry.
If Draco Malfoy had known back at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions that Harry was *the* Harry Potter, his attitude would undoubtedly have been far warmer.
Vincent didn’t need to think twice to predict Harry’s reaction.
Watching Harry reject the proffered hand, Vincent felt not a ripple of emotion.
“Care to make a wager, Harry?” Vincent murmured.
“I bet your life at Hogwarts will be intertwined with his for the foreseeable future.”
Harry looked at him as if he had just pronounced a dark curse.
“Tell me you’re not secretly practicing dark magic on me.”
Vincent merely twitched the corner of his mouth.
“Not right now. Can’t make promises for the future, though.”
The doors reopened, and Professor McGonagall led the first-years inside.
The ceiling of the Great Hall was so high it seemed nonexistent, punctuated only by thousands of floating candles flickering in midair.
Pearly-white ghosts drifted between the long tables, chatting animatedly among themselves.
Vincent tried to glean some useful information from their babble, only to realize most of their chatter could be found in textbooks.
In the magnificent and solemn hall, candlelight flickered across the eager faces of the new students.
Professor McGonagall set a four-legged stool in front of the first-years and placed a shabby, patched wizard’s hat upon it.
The next second, the hat burst into a strange song.
Vincent suddenly felt that if *this* was the sort of test Hogwarts administered, he might not be quite so confident after all.
What disturbed him even more was that once the hat finished singing, thunderous applause erupted across the hall, with wizards at all four tables clapping enthusiastically.
Vincent began to wonder if people in the wizarding world lacked artistic taste entirely.
Surely the flaw wasn’t in *his* aesthetic judgment?
Vincent never doubted himself.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment and began calling out names.
“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.”
Glancing down at her parchment, she called, “Hannah Abbott!”
Vincent watched a blonde girl step out from the line and put on the hat.
After a mere pause, the hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!”
So sorting was really this simple?
Just watching a hat decide everyone’s destination?
Vincent paid little attention to the rest, offering extra scrutiny only when Theodore Nott went up to be sorted.
He had calculated the alphabetical order in his head and assumed he would be called before Harry.
Yet when nearly everyone else had been called, he remained as the very last person standing.
*Ah, Riddle.
That name truly grows more intriguing by the minute.*
Standing alone as the crowd of students diminished around him, Vincent felt not the slightest shred of panic.
Standing straight as a pine, he possessed an innate, unflappable composure.
He was somewhat tall for his age, making him quite striking in the hall.
His neat, short black hair looked sharp and lively; beneath a broad, clear forehead and slightly arched eyebrows rested a pair of deep, luminous eyes that glinted like cold stars in the night sky, radiating quiet calculation and intellect.
Dumbledore’s eyes had been fixed on him all along.
Seeing his calm, unbothered expression, the old headmaster felt the image overlap with his memory of another young boy.
He wasn’t sure if history was repeating itself, but as an old wizard who had walked this path before, he knew what must be done to guide a young wizard down a different road.
He could hardly claim to be entirely blameless for what had transpired all those years ago.
Finally, it was Vincent’s turn.
He walked forward with unhurried steps and sat upon the four-legged stool.
He had noticed that the Sorting Hat took varying lengths of time for different students.
Malfoy had been declared a Slytherin almost instantly, whereas Harry had taken quite a while before Gryffindor was shouted.
Knowing Harry, Vincent could tell from his facial expressions and subtle shifts that he had been conversing with the hat.
A talking hat—Vincent was genuinely curious about it.
The Sorting Hat was gently placed upon his head.
After a moment of silence, its deep, ancient voice resonated inside Vincent’s mind.
“Hmm, let’s see… courage tempered with cunning, ambitious yet thoroughly rational. Child, you possess the distinct traits of Slytherin. I believe Slytherin House would suit you extraordinarily well.”
Vincent’s brow furrowed, and he firmly rejected the suggestion, speaking back to the hat in his thoughts, “No, Mr. Sorting Hat. I don’t believe Slytherin suits me at all. I crave knowledge and possess an insatiable pursuit of wisdom. I wish only to go to Ravenclaw.”
The shabby hat seemed taken aback, lapsing back into deep deliberation.
“Child, Slytherin can grant you glory and power. Why are you so set on Ravenclaw? You are far better suited for Slytherin.”
“What defines ‘suitability’?” Vincent countered inwardly.
“If I desire it, then it becomes suitable, regardless of preconceived notions. I believe Ravenclaw suits me better.”
A resolute gleam shone in Vincent’s eyes.
“Mr. Sorting Hat, glory and power are not what I seek. I revere knowledge and long to explore the unknown from Ravenclaw’s high tower, exchanging ideas with the wise. The ocean of knowledge is my true destination.”
If not for his desire to learn magic, Vincent figured he might have ended up at Oxford in the future.
Whether by acing the exams or donating a building, both were well within his capabilities.
The Sorting Hat twitched slightly.
“Well, well… the young wizards this year are obstinate indeed! Since you are so resolute, then let it be—RAVENCLAW!”
The hat bellowed the last word aloud to the hall.
As the announcement echoed through the Great Hall, a faint smile curved Vincent’s lips.
He stood up and strode toward the Ravenclaw table, welcomed by thunderous applause from his new housemates.
He surveyed his surroundings calmly.
In his eyes, the houses were nothing more than designated spaces for learning magic, carrying no grander intrinsic meaning.
He knew his own thirst for knowledge and his passion for deep inquiry; Ravenclaw’s intense academic environment was undeniably where he belonged.
Harry and his new friends had all gone to Gryffindor.
Hearing that Vincent was sorted into Ravenclaw, Harry felt a mix of disappointment and relief.
At least it wasn’t Slytherin.
Ron had described Slytherins to him—a bunch of spoiled, arrogant bullies who relied on family wealth to act with impunity, made bitter, nasty remarks, constantly put others down, and often ended up becoming Dark wizards.
Except for acting with lawless impunity, Vincent fit almost every other part of that description.
Harry certainly didn’t want his friend running the risk of becoming a Dark wizard.
Vincent nodded across the hall to Harry, but the next moment he caught Theodore Nott’s gaze.
Theodore quickly averted his eyes, attempting to pass the glance off as accidental.
Taking his seat at the Ravenclaw table, Vincent swept his indifferent gaze across the hall before letting it settle on Theodore once more.
Theodore—the Nott destined for Slytherin.
Vincent couldn’t help but ponder whether Theodore had ever considered other possibilities for himself.
Watching Theodore’s mixture of pride and aloofness, Vincent speculated about what was going on in the boy’s mind.
Perhaps in Theodore’s worldview, Slytherin’s traditions and prestige aligned perfectly with his inner traits, so the thought of going anywhere else had never crossed his mind.
Or perhaps he, like Vincent, had harbored a passing curiosity about other houses, only to be constrained by familial expectations or ingrained beliefs.
Vincent didn’t know the answer, but he found himself mildly intrigued.
People both similar and different…
Vincent mused on Theodore while simultaneously contemplating Riddle.
The *previous* “Riddle” of Hogwarts.
Upon seeing him sorted into Ravenclaw, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and even Hagrid, who had led them across the lake, all seemed to breathe a subtle sigh of relief.
The staff table was situated some distance from the students, but Vincent deliberately stole glances in their direction.
Noticing his scrutiny, Dumbledore offered him a subtle smile.
Vincent had never intended to hide anything anyway.
Whatever wasn’t mentioned in the textbooks, he would uncover himself within Hogwarts.
In this Hogwarts filled with magic and mystery, everyone trod their chosen paths.
Vincent would embark on his own unique journey in Ravenclaw.
At the same time, he would occasionally keep an eye on students in other houses—like Theodore—to see how they developed and changed along their respective paths.
The feast proved quite satisfactory to Vincent; the food tasted no worse than what he was accustomed to, which was a pleasant surprise.
As the meal drew to a close, Dumbledore suddenly stood and tapped his goblet.
Clear and sharp, the sound chimed across the noisy hall, bringing immediate silence.
Vincent turned his gaze toward the headmaster as well.