Dumbledore knew him—or knew his family.
Vincent stood at the entrance of Ollivander’s wand shop.
Through the shifting crowds he spotted a very tall figure, someone unmistakable.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, Vincent knew almost at once that this was the friend Harry had wanted to introduce.
Dumbledore followed Vincent’s gaze and saw the same man heading toward the shop.
“That’s Hagrid.
He’s Harry’s guide.
He’ll take care of the rest with Harry.” Vincent followed Dumbledore in silence to a nearby ice-cream parlor.
Honestly, he hadn’t expected Diagon Alley to have something as ordinary as an ice-cream shop.
“This isn’t an ordinary ice-cream shop,” Dumbledore said.
“The ice cream here is exceptionally good.” Dumbledore stepped up to the counter, spoke a few words to the owner, and returned with two enormous bowls.
Vincent was certain he could never finish that much ice cream by himself.
Still, he took the bowl, picked up a spoon, and began eating in small bites, waiting for Dumbledore to speak first.
He wouldn’t move until the other side did.
Until Dumbledore explained who he was and why he was here, Vincent would give away nothing about himself.
For all he knew, the man had already investigated him thoroughly before arriving.
Dumbledore’s mood seemed to have settled.
“You’ve acquired a wand of extraordinary power.
Basilisks are creatures of legend.
No one expected Ollivander’s shop to actually possess a genuine basilisk horn.” The Ollivander family had existed for centuries.
As one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, it wasn’t strange for them to have a few rare heirlooms tucked away.
Only wizards with true family legacies understood how many wonders their bloodlines had accumulated over hundreds of years—marvels ordinary people could never imagine.
Dumbledore ate half his ice cream at a leisurely pace.
Vincent matched him, calm in a way that didn’t suit a boy his age at all.
He looked even more like that other person.
That man had been the same—cool and unmoved by almost everything, except for the feverish light that appeared in his eyes whenever magic was mentioned.
Toward the rest of the world he had shown no feeling at all.
“Riddle,” Dumbledore said at last, setting down his spoon.
“Your surname is Riddle.” Vincent let out a long breath.
“You can just say it straight, Headmaster Dumbledore.
What’s wrong with my surname?
What does it mean?
I’m guessing it stands in opposition to the name ‘Harry Potter.’ Otherwise you wouldn’t have looked so unpleasant when you first saw me.” Dumbledore’s gaze grew stranger—not wary or hostile, but the quiet regret of someone who had once guided a brilliantly clever child and watched him choose the wrong path.
“You really are very intelligent.
I once knew a boy as clever as you.
Unfortunately he never walked the right road.
It made me see snakes in every shadow.
When I saw your name I grew cautious.
I apologize for that, child.” Once bitten, twice shy.
Seeing the surname again, Dumbledore admitted the darker part of human nature had stirred inside him.
He hadn’t gone to meet the boy.
He hadn’t assigned him a guide.
Sometimes he even wondered whether everything that followed might never have happened if that other child had never received a letter from Hogwarts.
So when the name appeared once more, he hesitated.
The letter still went out in the end, but he had not come forward himself to serve as guide.
Muggle-born young wizards knew nothing of the magical world.
Thick packets of instructions were sent so their parents could take them to Diagon Alley.
Only in special cases like Harry Potter was someone assigned to help in person.
Vincent fell somewhere in between.
He wasn’t famous like Harry Potter.
Without that peculiar surname, no one would have noticed that he, too, had no parent to accompany him.
Vincent’s face remained cool, but the white-knuckled grip on his spoon betrayed a thread of tension.
“What did you come to say to me?
That you’re canceling my place at Hogwarts?” Strangling every possible misfortune in the cradle was always the cleanest solution.
He still didn’t know what the surname meant, but from the man’s attitude it clearly wasn’t anything good.
His adoptive parents—now long gone—had taught him how to handle sudden crises.
This particular crisis simply happened to be himself.
Nothing surprising about that.
Vincent could face the situation calmly.
The worst outcome would only be returning to Privet Drive and living an ordinary, comfortable life without money worries.
Plenty of people would kill for a life free of hunger and want.
What more could he ask for?
Contentment was a skill every orphanage child learned early.
Vincent had never demanded much.
“No, child,” Dumbledore said.
“That isn’t why I came.
I only wanted to apologize—for the thoughts that first rose in my heart.
You are not him.
I should not have looked at you through the lens of the past.” The emotion in Vincent’s eyes froze.
The sharp mind that had been racing a moment earlier stuttered.
“What do you mean?” Not expulsion.
The complete opposite of what he had expected.
Dumbledore smiled—the familiar, gentle smile every young wizard at Hogwarts knew.
“Hogwarts welcomes you, young wizard.
You will become an outstanding talent in the magical world.
I have never doubted the excellence of Hogwarts students.
You will certainly be among the best of them.” Vincent couldn’t understand.
Knowing the unhappy history, how could anyone still offer him goodwill?
An orphanage was the clearest window into the coldness of the world.
Children fought over every scrap of survival.
His adoptive parents had been skilled merchants.
From childhood they had taught him how to seek advantage and avoid harm.
Vincent knew exactly why he had been adopted.
He had worked hard to play the part of a satisfactory replacement.
When they finally had a child of their own, he had accepted without fuss that he was being set aside.
The wand was still on him.
The old wizard across the table was telling him he was welcome at Hogwarts.
He still didn’t know what the name Riddle meant, but the kindness in the old man’s eyes was not false.
It was sincere and warm.
Vincent struggled to catch up.
“If you’re afraid I’ll do something I shouldn’t, you should have solved the problem from the start.
Keeping me out of the magical world would have been the safest choice.
If anything unfortunate happens later, you’ll regret not stopping me today.” “Regarding what happened years ago, I have regretted many things—but not bringing him to Hogwarts.
What I regret is that I never gave him enough care.
I didn’t understand him well enough, and that allowed his heart to twist into something dark.
“Child, I am the headmaster of Hogwarts.
Every student there is one of my children.
What an adult should do is guide them—not scold them after the fact for failing to walk the right path, but reflect on why he himself failed to notice the warning signs in time.” It had taken Dumbledore a very long time to truly understand that truth.
“Vincent!
So this is where you were.
I thought you’d left without me.” Harry’s voice grew closer.
A second later he was at Vincent’s side, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
Only then did he notice the unfamiliar wizard sitting next to Vincent.
He pulled his hand back a little nervously and straightened.
“Hello, sir.” Dumbledore smiled warmly.
“Hello, Mr.
Potter.
I am Albus Dumbledore.
A pleasure to meet you.” Hagrid, slowed by his height and the crowd, arrived a moment later.
He started to smile at the sight of Dumbledore—then his eyes landed on the boy sitting beside him.
The smile died.
Shock filled his face.
“Headmaster Dumbledore… he…” “This is a young wizard who will be starting at Hogwarts this year—Vincent Riddle.
I am serving as his guide.
He is an excellent child.
I’m certain he will have a happy time at Hogwarts.” Hagrid opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.
For all his size he suddenly looked like a nervous young wife, unable to get the words out.
“All right… all right.
Dumbledore’s never wrong.
If he says so, then there won’t be any problem.” He muttered the words under his breath, almost to himself.
Vincent found the whole thing even stranger.
Had Hagrid also met him before?
Simply looking at his face—without hearing the surname—had already been enough to unsettle the man.
He had assumed the problem lay with the surname his adoptive parents had given him.
Now it seemed the real issue might be the face itself.
Yes—his adoptive parents’ surname was Riddle.
An ordinary enough name.
Their family had been in business for several generations and was now quite wealthy.
As a child he had occasionally shown signs of magical talent.
His adoptive parents had reacted as though facing a deadly threat and kept their distance.
When Dumbledore appeared, Vincent had thought perhaps the Riddle family had once caused some serious trouble in the magical world.
He had already planned his response: if Dumbledore tried to bar him from Hogwarts because of the name Riddle, he would simply reveal that he was adopted and cut all ties to the family of the past.
He would not give up the chance to step into another world.
Nothing made him happier than exploring the unknown.
Other people’s thoughts and future actions came second.
Vincent always put himself first.
Unfortunately, before he could voice any of that, Dumbledore had suddenly relented.
And the reaction from Harry’s large friend didn’t seem tied to the surname alone.
So what was it, then?
He hadn’t even reached Hogwarts yet, and already Vincent had found a mystery worth exploring.
He would discover exactly what had happened to the name “Riddle.”