“Do you have something you want to tell me?” Vincent looked straight at Harry, his target clear.
“Why are you suspecting me first?
I didn’t do anything,” Harry protested, though he had no real confidence in his voice.
He had never been able to deceive Vincent.
Harry had never succeeded even once.
At the forty-fifth second of Vincent’s stare, Harry collapsed.
Ron, sitting beside them, heard everything most clearly, yet he still pretended to be deaf and mute, showing not the slightest intention of joining the conversation.
Fine.
Ron had made his position perfectly clear.
He would neither speak nor leave, so Harry could only serve as his mouthpiece.
“It’s actually nothing.
We didn’t argue, and there wasn’t any real unhappiness.
It’s just…” Harry paused.
Vincent finished the sentence for him: “It’s just that Hermione suddenly stopped talking to you for no apparent reason?” Hermione was not the sort of witch who nitpicked over small matters.
There was only one point she cared about deeply: rules.
Whether it was defending the content of books or defending school regulations, Hermione’s attitude was always crystal clear.
Vincent could guess the problem with almost a single try.
“Things were fine not long ago.
What did you two do recently?” Harry opened his mouth.
“It’s really nothing, just… if we can’t find suitable material in the open section of the library, maybe the Restricted Section…” “You’re trying to say that if you can’t find anything useful during the day, you want to take a look around Professor Snape’s office?” Vincent interrupted Harry’s carefully veiled phrasing with a smiling face.
“Hermione doesn’t approve of your methods.” Harry nodded.
Ron remained silent, but his expression showed agreement.
“We didn’t actually want to break school rules, Vincent.
It’s just that Hermione stopped talking to us.” Mentioning the matter still left Harry feeling a little wronged.
He did not want Vincent to think they had started internal fighting before they even found the answers they were looking for.
“We didn’t argue.
Really, we didn’t argue,” Harry emphasized.
“Right.
No argument—just a little bit of unhappiness.
If I don’t bring it up, how long were you planning to let this unhappiness continue?” Harry and Ron fell silent.
Vincent gathered the books on the table and stood to leave.
“Think it over yourselves first.
I definitely won’t tell Hermione what you were thinking.
Oh, and Harry—if you don’t hurry up, once I find evidence on Professor Quirrell, your suspicions about Professor Snape won’t have a leg to stand on.” Harry still wanted to say something, but Vincent left him only a back view.
Vincent left the library and headed straight for Gryffindor Tower.
“Hello.
Could you help me find Hermione Granger?” Neville Longbottom, who had been stopped, turned around.
The bewildered expression on his face had not yet disappeared.
“Are you talking to me?” “If the Gryffindor portrait can’t go into the common room and pass on a message for me, then yes, I’m talking to you.” Neville Longbottom looked around.
Only he and Vincent were there.
“Ah… all right.
I’ll go check for you.
Just give me a moment while I try to remember the Gryffindor password.” Neville ducked his head awkwardly, unsure whether it was because he had forgotten the password or because he was speaking to someone he did not know well.
“Caput Draconis,” Vincent said.
Neville slapped his forehead.
“Yes!
Caput Draconis.
Are… are you a Gryffindor too?” He was not certain whether he had simply forgotten this classmate.
“You… I think I have a bit of an impression.
You’re always with Harry and Hermione.
You’re a Gryffindor, right?
Did I just forget you?
Then you can just go in yourself.
You don’t need me to pass on a message.” Neville was already halfway to convincing himself.
Vincent knew him—Neville Longbottom, Hermione’s friend.
They had almost no direct interaction.
The only times they crossed paths were when they were all with Hermione.
It was perfectly normal that Longbottom did not remember him.
“No.
I’m a Ravenclaw.
I’m just friends with Harry and Hermione.” “Hey, boys, are you coming in or not?
I’ve been waiting here,” the Fat Lady in the portrait interrupted their conversation.
Whatever they wanted to say, they should either go in or leave so she would have time to sing if she felt like it.
Vincent continued along the Fat Lady’s line.
“Hurry inside, Longbottom.
I’m Riddle.
If Hermione is there, please ask her to come out for a moment.
Thank you.
Caput Draconis, Fat Lady—open the door.” Someone had given the password, so the Fat Lady naturally opened the portrait.
She still felt it was strange that a Ravenclaw knew the Gryffindor password.
Neville only managed to reply “All right” before he wandered into the common room in a daze.
Vincent deliberately gave him no time to react.
He was a Ravenclaw.
If Neville Longbottom asked why he knew the Gryffindor password, Harry and the others would become the first suspects, which would not be ideal.
With anyone else Vincent might have offered a suitable explanation, but with Neville Longbottom he would probably forget the whole matter in a little while and not remember it for a long time.
Vincent had no need to worry about it at all.
He smiled at the Fat Lady who was still watching him.
“I overheard someone else say the password last time I came looking for friends.
Don’t worry—Hogwarts students don’t usually barge into other houses’ common rooms.” Under normal circumstances, that was true.
The Fat Lady did not particularly mind.
“It’s nothing, child.
It’s only a password.
It will be changed after a while.
And you’re a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin.
Even if you know the Gryffindor password, what could you do with it?” That was also quite reasonable.
As Gryffindor’s guardian, the Fat Lady had already experienced many things.
Little could surprise her—unless a Slytherin knew the Gryffindor password.
Hermione came out quickly.
This time she looked much more at ease than the last time.
“Tell me you’re not here to act as their messenger.” One look at Vincent’s appearance made it obvious he had just come from the library.
Harry and Ron always went to the library to discuss things with him.
She could guess at once that Vincent must have seen them just now.
“Oh, Hermione, you’re so clever it makes me worry how Ravenclaw is going to maintain its reputation for loving learning during the final exams.” Vincent smiled.
“Loving learning isn’t a reputation, but I’ll accept the compliment.” Hermione’s mood improved a little because of Vincent’s deliberate joke.
“You’re not here again because of Professor Quirrell, are you?
I heard George and Fred did something—does it have anything to do with you?” “That’s really putting me in a difficult position.
I’m only a first-year Ravenclaw.
What could I possibly do?” Vincent’s face showed not the slightest flush of guilt.
“I came because of Harry and Ron.” Hermione looked as though she was about to leave at once, yet she did not.
“What do they want to say to me?” Vincent took out a candy.
“Want a sweet?” Was this what they wanted to say?
Hermione did not take the candy.
The distrust in her eyes made Vincent want to laugh a little.
“Sharp observation, Hermione.
This is one of the vomit sweets George and Fred gave me.” Hermione no longer wanted to leave.
She wanted to send Vincent to the hospital wing.
“You’d better actually have something important.
I’m busy.
The term is almost halfway over, and there’s a small test before the Christmas holidays.
I need to study.” “Come on, Hermione.
That line might fool other young witches and wizards from the Muggle world.
I’m a Ravenclaw.
No professor is going to deliberately torment students over the Christmas holidays.” Professor Snape did not count.
“Harry and Ron are a little regretful.
That’s right—they didn’t say it, but I can tell.
Otherwise they would have stopped me, and I wouldn’t have meddled.” He spoke before Hermione could open her mouth.
Hermione believed the words were true, because she herself did not want this inexplicable unhappiness with her friends either.
“Besides, Hermione, without you, who else can stop those two reckless idiots from losing Gryffindor points?” Vincent offered the step down very skillfully, fully considering the refusals Hermione might raise and cutting straight to the key point.
“If you’re still unhappy, you can secretly stuff this vomit sweet into his bread.
Last time I ran into George and Fred they said this one has already been tested—it has no other effects, it just makes a person unable to eat.
When the real vomit sweets are finished, I’ll share some with you.” If it only made someone unable to eat, Hermione could accept it.
If it truly caused endless vomiting and someone swallowed it by accident, that would become a real problem.