Harry and Hagrid split up.
Hagrid used his size to head over to Flourish and Blotts and buy the books and supplies Harry needed.
Harry went alone first to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions to get his school uniform.
The Hogwarts acceptance letter had specifically named this shop.
There had to be a reason.
Harry took a deep breath and was about to push the door open when a familiar face stepped out from inside.
“Vincent?
What are you doing here?” Harry felt a little light-headed.
Ever since that letter arrived, his entire life had flipped upside down.
He still couldn’t understand why the letter had found him.
The Dursleys’ sudden change in attitude was even harder to figure out.
And when Hagrid showed up, Harry had been completely overwhelmed.
He had never imagined that anyone in the world besides Vincent would remember his birthday.
Now it felt even more like he was dreaming and seeing the most unbelievable things.
“Vincent?
Is my dream about to end?
I think I just saw you here.” From the moment he met Hagrid, Harry had felt dazed, like he was walking through a dream.
Seeing the familiar Vincent inside that dream only made him more certain it wasn’t real.
There couldn’t be a coincidence this big—that the boy next door happened to be a wizard too.
Harry watched the familiar face pull the familiar look of mild disgust.
Vincent raised an eyebrow, voice just as dry.
“Yeah.
Fastest way to wake you up is a punch to the face.
Want to try it?” Harry’s green eyes still couldn’t quite catch up.
Vincent sighed.
“Come inside.
You’re blocking the doorway.
Bad for business.” He steered Harry into Madam Malkin’s and let out another long breath.
He had known his story with Harry wasn’t finished.
He just hadn’t expected it to pick up again this soon.
“Vincent, are you a wizard too?
How did you get here?
Are you going to Hogwarts with me?” Harry was too excited.
On a normal day he never would have fired off questions one after another.
But today everything he had seen in Diagon Alley had him buzzing.
Only today.
Any other time Vincent would have snapped at him a couple of times.
Today he held it in.
Let the kid talk.
“Madam Malkin,” Vincent said, “please measure him as well.” He had already ordered his own robes and knew the routine by heart.
Harry followed him deeper into the shop.
Through gaps between the mirrors and bolts of fabric he caught sight of the measuring tape floating in midair on its own and stared in open curiosity.
“Another Hogwarts first-year?
You two know each other, so definitely not Muggle-born.
Decided on a house yet?” A rather blunt voice drifted from farther inside.
Madam Malkin appeared, smiled at them, and gestured for Harry to step forward for measuring.
Only then did Harry see who had spoken.
A blond boy whose skin was so pale Harry almost thought it looked unhealthy.
He was about the same age as Harry, but his hair was fixed rigidly in place with gel.
It looked strange.
Harry wasn’t sure whether he should answer.
He hadn’t understood what the boy meant, so he simply walked over to Madam Malkin and let her start measuring.
Vincent tossed the question lightly back.
“Looks like you’ve already decided which house you’re going to.
It must suit you perfectly.” When you didn’t want to answer something, you asked a question of your own and let the other person talk until they ran out of steam.
The blond boy answered at once.
“Of course.
A Malfoy is going to Slytherin.
Only the noble pure-blood wizards of Slytherin are worthy of being around a Malfoy, and only Slytherin is worthy of a Malfoy.” He spoke with rising and falling emphasis, the pride in his voice impossible to miss—and he clearly wasn’t trying to hide it.
Vincent’s eyes stayed on the floating tape.
Harry kept staring at it too and paid no attention to the words.
The boy had a habit of tilting his chin up when he talked.
The moment he finished, Vincent turned and looked at him with an expression of serious interest.
That only encouraged him.
“The other houses can’t compare to Slytherin.
Far too many half-bloods.
I really don’t know why Hogwarts takes in so many of them.” Harry finished being measured and couldn’t collect the robes yet.
Vincent was already guiding him toward the door when he finally bothered to reply.
“If there were enough pure-blood wizards in England, they would open their own school.
When the numbers aren’t high enough, half-bloods become an advantage.
Too few people and the whole wizarding world stops working.” The blond boy paused, ready to argue, but Vincent had already pushed the door open and walked out with Harry.
Outside, Harry didn’t understand why Vincent had said any of that.
Vincent scanned the shop signs, found a quieter patch of shade, and stopped.
“We need to learn about the wizarding world and Hogwarts.
We’re both outsiders.
We can’t possibly know the situation as clearly as they do.
If someone’s willing to talk, might as well listen.” “Then why leave so fast?” Harry asked.
“He looked like he still had plenty more to say.” Vincent narrowed his eyes.
“Harry Potter, are you looking for the answer handed to you?
Tell me what you think.” Harry instinctively straightened his back the way he always did when Vincent asked him something.
“Because the information in his words wasn’t enough?” Vincent pulled a fruit candy from his pocket and tossed it over.
“Part of it.” Harry caught it in the air, peeled the wrapper, and popped it into his mouth.
Back at the Dursleys’, Vincent had shared candy with him more than once—always through the method of answering questions.
“Malfoy is a child spoiled by his family,” Vincent went on.
“Don’t ask how I know his last name.
He wants to put something he’s proud of into every sentence.
Everything he can tell us is only what his parents have told him.
Think of it as seeing one leaf and missing the forest—the same way he’ll never understand how to properly spread jam on bread.” Maybe wizards didn’t need to spread their own jam.
Vincent was only giving an example.
It was a common problem among rich people.
Vincent was one of them, yet he had never stopped learning ordinary life skills.
His adoptive parents had been open-minded.
They taught him not to grow arrogant just because he was different.
Even if their affection hadn’t been aimed at him, the practical benefits had still reached him.
Vincent was a quick study.
He knew how to keep his parents satisfied and how to keep the power inside him under control.
Harry held the map and led the way to the wand shop.
He had planned to wait for Hagrid, but Vincent took the candy wrapper Harry had just been holding, folded it into a tiny paper crane, ran a fingertip across the paper twice, and murmured a spell Harry didn’t understand yet.
The little crane trembled, then flew unsteadily toward the entrance of Madam Malkin’s.
“It’ll deliver the message.
We can go now without waiting in line.” Vincent’s calm face stood in sharp contrast to Harry’s.
“You… I’ve known you for years,” Harry said.
“How come I never knew you could do that?” “Why do you think my parents left me alone in England?” Harry fell silent and simply followed beside him.
Sometimes Harry felt the two of them were a matched pair of unlucky kids.
Neither had ever met their real parents.
Neither had known a happy childhood or a real family.
“Don’t look at me like that, Harry.
At least I still have more money than I can spend.” Harry snapped out of it, stepped closer, and slung an arm around Vincent’s shoulders.
“Don’t worry.
I only found out today that my parents left me a huge pile of money too.
What’s mine is yours.
We’ll spend it together.” Vincent was one of the few people who had ever shown Harry real kindness.
He figured his parents wouldn’t mind him sharing that part of the inheritance with his best friend.
“Including my homework?” Vincent asked.
“Vincent, I’m trying to thank you.
Don’t ruin it.” Vincent gave him a sideways glance.
“There are plenty of ways to thank me.
First one is picking out a proper wand.
Harry Potter is famous in the wizarding world.
Let’s see if your celebrity status can get me some special treatment.” Hearing about all these completely unfamiliar exploits of his from someone he actually knew made Harry so embarrassed he could barely stand still.
“Just go in already.” He pushed Vincent through the door of Ollivander’s.
They still hadn’t timed it perfectly.
A young wizard was already inside choosing his wand.
The boy looked almost exactly like the one they had met earlier.
Thankfully his taste was more normal—soft black hair left loose and a little fluffy, not plastered down with a lethal amount of gel.
Mr.
Ollivander was just handing him a beautiful wand.
Seeing them, it seemed the selection was finished.
“This is a powerful wand.
I hope it will stay with you and help you achieve whatever you wish.” The boy nodded lightly and accepted it with careful restraint.
The servant beside him set golden coins on the counter.
When they turned to leave, even the hem of the boy’s robes carried a quiet arrogance.
The woman wasn’t his mother.
There was not the slightest resemblance in their faces.
She had stayed exactly half a step behind him the entire time.
Vincent had once had servants who accompanied him the same way.
The finely featured boy brushed past them.
Vincent caught the same cool expression on his face that he wore himself.
Not everyone from a wealthy family got a happy life.
Wizard families were no exception.
Vincent watched him go, then turned back with his usual mild look.
“Let’s go.
I haven’t seen a wand yet.” “You can already use the magic inside you,” Harry said.
“Do you still need a wand?” The first wand he had ever seen had been hidden in Hagrid’s umbrella.
Hagrid never admitted it was his.
Every wizard Harry had spotted in Diagon Alley carried a wand of their own.
Curiosity got the better of him.
“What kind of wands do you think we’ll get?” Vincent looked toward the thin, frail old man inside the shop.
“Mr.
Ollivander will choose the best ones for us.” Never hit a smiling face.
Praise was always safe.