“Everyone—everyone—” “First-years, please pay attention.
First of all, the Forbidden Forest on the school grounds is strictly off-limits to all students.
Some of our older students would do well to remember that.” The white-bearded old man stood.
Even from across the long tables Vincent could see the bright sparkle in his eyes as they seemed to sweep across the red ocean of Gryffindor, though it was impossible to tell who he was singling out.
“Mr.
Filch, the caretaker, also asked me to remind everyone not to practice magic in the corridors between classes.” “And finally, anyone who does not wish to meet with a most painful and messy death should avoid the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor.” Vincent noticed that most of the first-years seemed to find this funny.
Harry, for example, grinned like an idiot for a moment before realizing everyone else had gone quiet.
The Ravenclaws were friendly.
When they noticed the obvious confusion on Vincent’s face, one of them volunteered an explanation.
“Headmaster Dumbledore announces the rules every year when the new students arrive.
The fourth-floor corridor is new, though.
Places that are forbidden usually have a reason—the Forbidden Forest has dangerous beasts, and people say there are even werewolves.” Vincent nodded and offered a small smile of thanks.
Something had either been placed in that newly forbidden fourth-floor corridor this year, or something had suddenly appeared there, turning it into a dangerous place no one was allowed to enter.
Many thoughts flickered through Vincent’s mind, but his face kept only a mild smile as he enjoyed the seemingly endless feast on the long table.
The Hogwarts tables displayed one hundred and eight ways to prepare potatoes.
As a native of England, Vincent had to admit the potatoes here were excellent—mashed, in cakes, fried into chips, and stewed, each version had its own character.
Harry was blending into Gryffindor at impressive speed.
Perhaps his famous name was enough to earn him natural goodwill from everyone.
Vincent was just about to add another entry to his mental experimental notes when Dumbledore continued.
“Now, before everyone leaves the Hall for bed, let us sing the school song together.” The school song?
They were supposed to sing something no one had ever heard?
With a casual flick of his wand Dumbledore sent a long golden ribbon floating into the air.
High above the Hall, visible to everyone, the ribbon twisted like a snake and formed line after line of lyrics.
Vincent could clearly feel the expressions of every teacher at the staff table twist slightly.
Especially the one in black robes, who fixed Dumbledore with a deep, intense stare as if trying to stop him by willpower alone.
It failed.
“Everyone choose whatever tune you like!
Ready—sing!” Dumbledore looked thoroughly delighted.
His whole body swayed gently, and even his beard seemed to join in welcoming the new young witches and wizards.
The entire school began singing the words floating overhead at the top of their lungs, even though every single person used a completely different melody.
“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees…” The moment the sound rose, Vincent understood why everyone seemed to resist the school song that was supposed to symbolize unity.
Almost no two people shared the same tune.
The pair of Gryffindor twins Vincent had met on the platform—the Weasley twins—sang the entire song to the bizarre melody of a funeral march and kept going long after everyone else had finished.
Dumbledore did nothing to stop them.
Instead he conducted them with his wand.
Vincent began to suspect that this magical school was not quite as rigorous and serious as he had first imagined.
The headmaster alone already looked a bit unhinged.
But he had already enrolled.
Leaving might involve some strange memory-erasing procedure for all he knew.
To keep his mind permanently clear and capable of carrying out every experiment in his plans, Vincent decided to give the magical school one more chance.
Vincent’s life at Hogwarts was dull and boring—at least that was how it looked to other people.
For a young wizard who only wanted more knowledge, however, the days were as comfortable and interesting as a fish in water.
They could even be called happy.
Apart from classes, the library, and meals in the Great Hall, he almost never went anywhere else.
The library was his favorite building in all of Hogwarts.
If Harry ever needed to find Vincent, the probability of running into him there was higher than anywhere else.
Harry arrived looking thoroughly cheerful.
“Hi, Vincent.
It’s really good to see you here.” Vincent’s expression did not change.
“You’ve come to the library looking for me seven times this week.
That can no longer be called coincidence.
“All right, out with it.
What did Professor Snape do to make your life difficult this time?
Or do you need me to help finish some homework?” He set aside the spellbook he had been reading and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a mild headache.
When he had first chosen to help this boy under the Dursleys’ oppression, he had never imagined he would end up responsible for assisting with teachers’ homework assignments.
Harry gave an embarrassed little laugh, scratched his head guiltily, and pulled his potions homework out of his bag.
A second later he was already sitting comfortably beside Vincent.
“There are so many classes at Hogwarts, but only Potions gives me a real headache.
“That, and the fact that the corridors to the classrooms are too hard to navigate.
I keep arriving late, and Professor Snape never lets me hear the end of it.” The school supposedly had one hundred and forty-two staircases.
Some were wide, some narrow and shaky and liable to jump to different places.
It did sound difficult.
But they had already been in classes for a week.
If Harry still could not find every classroom reliably, the problem was no longer just the corridors.
Harry’s words failed to stir any sympathy in Vincent.
His excellent memory had already mapped every route.
“You should try letting your friends help you.
Hermione Granger, for example.
She’s a very clever witch with strong ability.” Vincent had never denied that point since meeting her on the train, and he believed it even more now.
If it were left only to Harry and Ron, there was no telling how many times a week they would be late.
Harry completely failed to notice that Vincent had just subtly mocked his intelligence.
Instead he cheerfully launched into a full report of his week of classes.
From Astronomy to Herbology to Defense Against the Dark Arts with the strange professor who reeked of garlic—Harry seemed to have endless words and energy.
Vincent could not understand why anyone would repeatedly share the details of classes they both attended.
He himself would never do such a thing.
This was the gap between specimens, he supposed.
Fortunately he had understood that difference from the very beginning when he chose to help Harry.
He accepted the waves of chatter with good grace and treated them as background accompaniment while he continued his own work.
They were in the library, so Harry could only speak in a low voice.
When he finished he fell quiet and began honestly looking up references to finish his potions homework.
He could not actually dump everything on Vincent.
He had arrived a little early for the homework session.
Ron and Hermione should find them before long.
“Just because you couldn’t answer the three questions he asked at the start of class, he assigned you extra potions work.
I can’t decide whether he’s being responsible or deliberately picking on you.” Vincent flipped through the parchment in Harry’s hands and questioned Professor Snape’s methods.
“Yeah.” At the mention of it Harry seemed to lose all strength and slumped onto the desk again.
“‘What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'” Harry repeated the words in a perfect imitation of Snape’s tone, making a deliberately ridiculous face that tugged the corner of Vincent’s usually straight mouth upward a little.
“Who would expect him to ask a first-time potions student something that specialized?” “Okay, maybe it wasn’t that specialized, but I’d never studied potions before.
Not knowing is understandable, right?” Vincent: “If you had previewed properly before term started the way I suggested…” “There is no way I could have previewed an entire textbook!” Harry declared with absolute certainty.
“On this one point I actually find myself agreeing with Harry.” Hermione walked over carrying a massive tome.
Her small frame compared to the thick book made it hard to believe she could walk so normally while holding what looked like a brick.
“I fully support Vincent’s preview theory, but Professor Snape’s current behavior is definitely deliberate targeting of Harry.” Ron lagged a step behind her and dropped into the chair next to the young witch.
“See, Vincent?
Even Hermione supports us.
So it has to be Snape’s problem.” “Hey—” Hermione gave an offended little huff.
“The way you said that makes me sound completely unreasonable.” Vincent lowered his eyes and continued examining the parchment in his hands.
He found it strangely hard to admit that he had already grown used to this noisy study atmosphere.
Diagonally across from them a small Slytherin group was sitting together.
When he lifted his gaze Vincent could see Theodore’s back and, when the other boy turned slightly, the faint remaining baby fat still soft on his cheek.