The Hogwarts Express raced along the tracks, wheels clattering in a steady rhythm against the rails.
Inside the compartments, laughter and chatter filled the air, thick with excitement for the new term.
In one compartment, Vincent sat with perfect posture by the window.
His school robes were neat, his tie knotted precisely, every strand of hair in place.
Years of careful upbringing showed in every small movement.
His eyes drifted toward the person sitting across from him from time to time.
Theodore’s aristocratic air was natural, every gesture carrying a quiet confidence and a touch of arrogance.
His gaze held a constant note of assessment, as if he stayed wary of everything around him—though in truth the wariness was aimed entirely at the strange young wizard who had suddenly sought him out.
They were locked in a silent contest of willpower.
Neither would break first in a short span of time, so Vincent decided to take the initiative and seize control of the conversation.
His voice was gentle and warm, the kind that made people feel at ease.
“Should I introduce myself again so we can start this conversation on the right foot?” A perfect opening.
Points scored.
Theodore didn’t understand the need, but politeness forced a reply.
“That won’t be necessary, Vincent.” He could already sense that Vincent’s enthusiasm and forced humor felt a little too deliberate.
So the other boy wanted to put on a performance?
Fine.
They could play.
Vincent clearly noticed the shift in Theodore’s attitude once the conversation had been agreed to.
Acting together—now that sounded interesting.
Theodore sat perfectly straight, hands resting on his knees.
Years of family training had taught him how to hide every true thought.
How naïve.
He actually believed he could keep everything buried.
Vincent was eleven.
Whether in the orphanage or after adoption, he had never once met someone who could successfully hide their emotions in front of him.
Maybe it was early maturity.
Maybe it was natural talent.
Either way, Vincent had always known how to toy with other people’s feelings.
He started looking for a topic.
“The Nott family is pure-blood.
You’ll definitely end up in Slytherin, won’t you?
I’ve heard every house at Hogwarts has its own unique charm.” His eyes shone with curiosity, as if this were nothing more than ordinary small talk.
Theodore answered mildly.
“Generally speaking, yes.
We’ll have to wait for the Sorting.
What about you?” The brush-off was a little too obvious.
Vincent smiled, looking thoroughly friendly.
“I’m looking forward to the Sorting Ceremony too.
But I think no matter which house we end up in, we can still keep talking.
Do you have any hobbies?” Theodore’s brow furrowed slightly.
The question felt too eager, and his wariness deepened.
“I enjoy reading books about magical history.” He kept the answer brief and offered nothing more.
Vincent’s eyes lit up.
“What a coincidence—I’m interested in magical history as well.
I’ve been reading a book on ancient magical spells lately.
There’s a lot of fascinating material in it.
Have you ever heard of Specific Ancient Magical Spells?
I imagine the Hogwarts library will have all sorts of interesting things.” While he spoke he watched Theodore’s reactions carefully, hunting for any common ground that might let him dig deeper.
Something stirred in Theodore’s mind—he did know a little about those spells—but he showed no extra interest.
“I’ve heard of it in passing.” The short reply was designed to give nothing away.
Vincent continued talking at length about his thoughts and guesses regarding the spells.
On the surface he was sharing knowledge; underneath he was studying every flicker of expression on Theodore’s face.
He hoped to pull useful information from the conversation so he could turn Theodore into a proper research specimen.
Theodore listened quietly, offering the occasional short reply, but his mind was racing.
The longer this went on, the more suspicious Vincent’s behavior felt.
That excessive enthusiasm seemed to hide some purpose Theodore couldn’t yet name.
He had deliberately kept his distance from the start, yet the other boy had chased after him anyway—and now Theodore himself had started playing along.
From Vincent’s very first sentence, Theodore realized he had already been pulled into the other boy’s rhythm.
As the train rolled on, the conversation gradually stalled.
Vincent sensed Theodore’s growing guard and felt a flicker of urgency.
Theodore, for his part, decided he needed to be even more careful.
He needed to figure out exactly what Vincent wanted and why the boy was so determined to be friendly.
Back and forth they went—a game both of them understood perfectly while still wearing polite masks.
Theodore had seen scenes like this more times than he could count, usually in front of his father and the man’s so-called business partners.
Old Nott had never been the sort of father who cared about a child’s feelings.
In his eyes, if his son failed to demonstrate satisfactory value, then the act of producing an heir itself lost all meaning.
Theodore had always been quiet.
In the vast Nott manor, crying never brought a warm embrace—only his father’s sharp scolding and the sound of a door slamming shut.
Being swallowed by darkness was never pleasant.
Theodore had learned long ago which methods brought him the best results.
Take the young wizard of unknown background sitting in front of him right now.
Clearly not simple.
He probably wasn’t a native British wizard.
An ordinary wizarding family couldn’t have produced a child this sharp and deep.
Only the old pure-blood families pushed their children to mature as early as possible so they could start bringing in benefits sooner.
Maybe France—Theodore remembered the Rosier family had a branch there.
Or Germany; the magical school there wasn’t bad either.
During the conversation he had already guessed two possible countries and still couldn’t pin down Vincent’s identity.
Vincent continued chatting with lively interest, but both of them knew the entire exchange was meaningless.
“Are you that free?” Theodore finally asked, irritation creeping in.
“Or is it that you don’t have a single friend in Britain who’ll share a compartment with you?” He wanted this annoying person out of his space.
“Oh, that really hurts.
I thought we were already friends.” Under most circumstances Vincent was extremely “considerate.” He knew exactly how to make the other person feel comfortable enough to offer more goodwill, all in service of the goal he had set at the beginning of the conversation.
Facing Theodore Nott, however, the mask had started to slip.
Vincent found himself more inclined to show the realer parts that lived under the friendliness, just to see how this new specimen would react.
He had expected Theodore to fall silent or keep up the polite pretense.
Instead Theodore’s response was clean and decisive.
He stood, grabbed Vincent by the collar, and shoved him out of the compartment.
“Chatting with you has been a truly pleasant experience.
I hope there won’t be a next time.” The compartment door slammed shut in Vincent’s face.
For a moment he simply stood there, not quite processing what had happened.
He had thrown him out?
He had actually thrown him out!
Vincent had expected to feel angry.
Instead the smile that spread across his face was more genuine than any he had worn on the entire train.
This specimen was exactly as unpredictable and uncontrollable as he had hoped.
This was what he wanted.
Through Harry, Vincent had studied what a “pitiful” child looked like in ordinary people’s eyes.
Ron and Hermione belonged to the happy-family category.
Theodore’s setup was much closer to his own—wealthy household, unhappy home, not enough attention from the person at the top of the family hierarchy, yet still expected to grow into excellence on his own after being given the tools.
Vincent had rejected his family and stayed behind in England alone.
If he had gone with them back then, he would be living Theodore’s life right now.
He wanted to know what that other version of himself might have become.
Everything around him had always felt dull.
He could see through people’s thoughts and steer events in the direction he wanted.
That kind of life was fine, of course—but every now and then Vincent found it unbearably boring.
Like the adoptive parents who had needed a replacement child the moment they saw him.
Like Harry, who had clearly needed a friend from the first glance.
Theodore was different.
Vincent could see the loneliness inside him, the same loneliness he carried himself.
Theodore had been right.
It really had been a very friendly and memorable conversation.
At the very least, Vincent had thoroughly enjoyed it.
Slytherin, though?
Vincent began to wonder whether he should aim for that house after all… No.
He still didn’t like places with too high a concentration of pure-bloods.
Being stuck with a crowd who would almost certainly become driven by self-interest later on would leave him unable to breathe.
He would rather stay around people like Harry and Ron—straightforward types who could be handled in two sentences.
Besides, his original goal in coming to Hogwarts had simply been to uncover more magic and knowledge he couldn’t master on his own.
Ravenclaw suited him far better.
Maybe he could even persuade Theodore to choose Ravenclaw?
Through the closed glass of the compartment door he could still see the displeased expression on Theodore’s face.
Vincent found himself looking forward to life at Hogwarts even more.