“Being able to produce a spell that perfect just from what you read in books—you’re an outstanding young witch.” Hermione’s cheeks flushed for a split second at the blunt praise, but she lifted her chin and accepted it with open confidence.
Harry’s eyes went wide.
“Whoa—Hermione, is someone in your family a wizard too?
That was amazing.” Harry had never once thought of comparing himself to Vincent.
That guy was a complete genius of a different category.
After getting his wand, Vincent had even figured out a few simple spells on his own without anyone teaching him.
Harry had always assumed it was just Vincent’s ridiculous talent.
He never expected a stranger girl on the Hogwarts Express to show the same kind of strength.
Hermione shook her head.
“No.
I’m the only witch in my family.
My father’s a dentist.
When I got the Hogwarts letter, my parents thought it was some kind of weird prank at first.
But it came by owl, so they still took me to Diagon Alley and agreed to send me here.” “They must love you a lot,” Harry said, a flicker of envy in his eyes.
Ron quickly changed the subject.
“You’re really good.
So have you decided which house you want?” No one had answered that question earlier.
Ron was hoping they would all end up somewhere that suited them—and if it happened to be Gryffindor like him, even better.
“I’ve read about the four houses,” Hermione said, “but I haven’t decided yet.
The books don’t explain exactly how they sort the new students.” Ron looked expectantly at Harry.
“What about you, Harry?
If you got to choose, where do you think you’d go?” Harry shrugged.
“I don’t really know.
Gryffindor, Slytherin… who can say?” At the mention of Slytherin, Ron’s face twisted.
He wrinkled his nose.
“No, Harry, not Slytherin.
That place is full of dark-wizard trainees.
The pure-bloods are all stuck-up and exclusive.
Gryffindor’s the best—warm and brave.” One look at Ron’s expression made it clear he had zero goodwill toward Slytherin.
Vincent spoke mildly.
“Sounds like Ron doesn’t think Slytherin’s a great choice.
Maybe Ravenclaw, then?
People say the ones who love learning usually end up there.
The academic atmosphere is stronger.” Harry frowned, turning their words over in his mind.
Everything he knew about Hogwarts so far came from Ron and Vincent.
Hermione across from him had stayed quiet.
Harry decided to hear what the only girl present thought.
“Hermione, what about you?
Which place do you think would suit you better?” The bushy-haired witch’s face grew thoughtful.
“From what Vincent said, maybe Ravenclaw would fit me?
But I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how the Sorting actually works.
I hope I don’t mess it up too badly when the time comes.” A flash of nervousness crossed her eyes as she spoke.
A child raised in a loving home was somehow afraid of a sorting test—was it because of high family expectations, or her own perfectionism?
Vincent found himself looking forward to Hogwarts even more.
On Privet Drive the only person worth talking to had been Harry.
Everyone else had bored him to tears; there had been no point in dealing with them.
Looking back, maybe the magic in his own body had sensed the magic hidden inside Harry and created a sense of recognition toward one of his own kind.
That was probably why he had been willing to help the disadvantaged Harry Potter in the first place.
He hadn’t even reached Hogwarts yet and had already met several specimens with completely different upbringings.
It really was better to get out and see more of the world.
If he had stayed on Privet Drive forever, the only people he would ever meet would be ordinary Muggles who blended into the crowd.
Now he was about to walk into the school that supposedly trained every witch and wizard in Britain.
If he wandered around a little more, he might run into even more young wizards and start to feel the real differences between people.
There was one thing Vincent wanted to figure out.
His birth parents were almost certainly gone for good.
His adoptive parents couldn’t explain anything—they had no magic themselves.
The young witches and wizards at Hogwarts were, in a way, the same as him.
Yet deep down Vincent felt they were different.
How could he possibly be the same as that ordinary crowd?
He needed to look more, experience more, before he could make the right judgment.
Vincent had always been rigorous.
His original goal had been to become a scientist who opened new frontiers for humanity.
Now it seemed becoming an outstanding magical researcher who opened new frontiers for wizards wouldn’t be a bad alternative either.
The train clattered steadily toward Hogwarts.
No one knew exactly what the place looked like.
The school’s protective magic wrapped it in an absolute shield of safety.
Hogwarts: A History contained the information that was allowed to be told to the world.
How many secrets the ancient castle—standing who-knew-where for who-knew-how-many years—actually held could only be discovered by those who lived inside it.
Vincent stepped out of the compartment and walked aimlessly down the long corridor.
Almost every young witch and wizard stayed inside their own compartments.
The train had been moving for a while; unless they had a special reason, most people preferred to chat with friends they already knew or had just met.
Of course there were exceptions—prefects on patrol, for example, or a certain arrogant boy who simply felt like stretching his legs.
The blond boy still insisted on slicking every strand of hair perfectly into place with gel.
He was walking forward with two others trailing behind him.
The moment he spotted Vincent standing in the middle of the corridor, his eyes seemed to brighten.
“Hey—you’re the boy from Madam Malkin’s, right?” Vincent suddenly felt a mild headache.
Spoiled children had a certain reference value, but not much.
He had already seen one specimen like this: the Dursley boy, thoroughly ruined by his family.
At least the one in front of him had the advantage of being good-looking.
“Draco.
Seeing you here is a real pleasure.” Vincent smiled the instant the boy stopped in front of him.
The words sounded completely sincere; no one could find fault with them.
Even Draco looked startled.
Were they that close?
Why did this sudden warmth feel so strange?
“Ahem—of course people are happy to see me.
Who wouldn’t want to meet a Malfoy?” “I’m not here looking for you, though.
I heard Harry Potter is coming to Hogwarts this year.
Do you know where he is?” Another little fanboy hunting for Harry Potter.
Vincent wondered what expression this boy would make if he found out that the Harry Potter he wanted to meet was the same kid he had looked down on in the robe shop earlier.
“Harry Potter?
What do you need him for?” Vincent didn’t give away Harry’s location.
He simply smiled and asked for Draco’s reason.
“None of your business.
Draco’s just asking about Harry Potter.” A chubby boy behind Draco suddenly spoke up, clearly trying to show off in front of his leader.
So, a hanger-on.
The boy reminded Vincent of Dudley Dursley next door—same lack of manners, same unattractive face.
The social ranks among the new first-years weren’t clear yet.
The only real influence came from family connections.
When Vincent had bought his books, he hadn’t limited himself to the required textbooks on the Hogwarts list.
He had picked up a number of volumes about the wizarding world in general.
He knew the Malfoys belonged to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and that the family had struggled with heirs.
Barring any accidents, Draco should be the only child of his generation.
As long as he grew up safely, he would become the next Malfoy heir without question.
“Draco, that really hurts my feelings.
Looks like you don’t particularly want to keep talking with me.
That’s fine.
Once we’re at Hogwarts we’ll still have plenty of chances to chat.
I’m sure those conversations will be pleasant for both of us.” “As for Harry Potter… you might try looking further ahead.
He’s probably in one of the compartments toward the back.
I’m not completely sure.” A pure-blood heir—simple, straightforward.
There was no one easier to handle.
Draco shot a mild glare at the chubby boy behind him, then turned back and gave Vincent a small nod, as if he had taken the words to heart.
“If I find Harry Potter and still have time, I’ll come back and find you, Vincent.” Draco still had no idea which family the boy in front of him belonged to.
He didn’t even know his surname yet.
But the sharp instincts that came with pure-blood upbringing told him this one was definitely unique.
Once he had met Harry Potter, if there was still time, he wouldn’t mind making a couple more useful acquaintances.
Connections for the future.
The Ministry of Magic wasn’t held up by the Malfoy family alone.
For some reason, Draco felt that someone like Vincent would eventually end up working there.
The elegant manners and natural special air about him couldn’t be faked through simple imitation.
His background, Draco decided, would not disappoint.
Vincent and Draco passed each other.
Vincent kept walking.
Honestly, he was starting to feel a little disappointed—he still hadn’t found a research specimen that truly satisfied him.
He didn’t even know exactly what he was looking for out here.
Staying in that small compartment listening to the others guess about their Hogwarts futures had simply grown boring.
He happened to pass another compartment when the door suddenly opened.
A finely featured boy with black hair looked up and walked straight into Vincent’s gaze.
“Nott?” Theodore froze.
He hadn’t expected the stranger from the platform to appear in front of him again so quickly.
Instinctively he frowned and stepped out of the compartment, trying to avoid him.
“You’re avoiding me.
Why?
I thought our first meeting was fairly friendly.
I even thought we might develop a bit of mutual understanding.” Theodore was currently the specimen who resembled Vincent the most.
One came from a wizarding family, the other from a Muggle one, but that didn’t stop them from recognizing something similar in each other.
Through the compartment door that hadn’t fully closed, Vincent could see the space inside was completely empty.
No one else was there.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in to sit for a while?” Theodore’s brows knitted even tighter.
He stared at the sudden appearance of Vincent, unable to figure out what this strange young wizard wanted.
“I don’t think we have anything to talk about.
This is only the second time we’ve met.” “It’s already the second time.
There are so many people in this world—not everyone gets a second meeting with someone else.
Besides, this is actually the third.” Ollivander’s wand shop, the platform, the train.
They really did keep running into each other.
Theodore replied coolly, “We’re going to be classmates at the same school.” “Isn’t that even more surprising?
We both happen to be British wizards, and we both happen to be going to Hogwarts.” A note of irritation entered Theodore’s voice.
“There’s only one magical school in England, and it’s called Hogwarts.” In other words, they had nowhere else to go.
For the first time, Vincent felt his usual glib tongue hitting a wall.
This one was much harder to handle than the pure-bloods he had met earlier.
The realization only excited him.
Look at that sharp tongue.
Vincent felt nothing but delight—not the slightest offense.
One glance at Vincent’s expression made it clear he wasn’t leaving until they had a proper conversation.
Theodore could only pull the compartment door open again and step back.
“I don’t know what you want, but make it quick.
I have other things to do.” What exactly could a brand-new first-year have to do on the train to school?
Vincent kept the question to himself and let none of it show on his face.
“Don’t worry.
I won’t take up too much of your time.
If you need anything, just say the word—I’m happy to help.”