After parting ways with Theodore, Vincent’s mood stayed high.
Harry kept glancing at him sideways, wondering whether his usually cool, detached friend was this cheerful only because they were finally about to enter Hogwarts.
When the Hogwarts Express finally slowed and came to a stop, the passengers pushed and jostled.
The young witches and wizards crowded together until they all spilled out onto a small, dark platform.
The night chill crept up under their robes.
Harry couldn’t help shivering.
Vincent, ever prepared, had already layered extra clothes beneath his school robes.
“I reminded you ten minutes ago.” Harry adjusted to the cold and accepted it.
“Yeah, you did.
You said anyone with a clear head would prepare in advance.
I just didn’t realize ‘prepare’ meant putting on more clothes.” Ron and Hermione followed behind them.
When they looked up, a lantern appeared above their heads.
Harry and Vincent heard a familiar voice.
“First years!
First years over here!” It was Hagrid—the enormous man who had reacted so strangely to Harry’s name.
They followed the lantern Hagrid carried, walking down a narrow path.
Everything on either side was pitch black; it might have been trees or tall bushes.
At the end of the path the weak lantern light and a thin wash of moonlight revealed a black lake.
Across that dark water, on higher ground, stood a towering castle.
Vincent stared at it.
A sudden rush of feeling left him slightly off-balance.
Excitement?
Joy?
He had thought he was already prepared.
Hagrid watched the first-years climb into the boats one by one.
Tiny lanterns at the prows gathered into scattered points of light across the black surface of the lake.
They rode the gently rocking boats straight toward Hogwarts Castle.
Vincent watched Harry talk with his new friends, but most of his attention stayed on the water beneath them.
Such dark water.
“This is the Black Lake,” Hagrid said.
“Every first-year crosses it by boat to reach Hogwarts.
The four founders themselves entered the castle this way when they first built it.” Vincent nodded calmly.
The lake lived up to its name.
Hagrid led the first-years up to the great oak doors of Hogwarts and knocked.
The doors swung open at once to reveal a severe-looking witch in emerald-green robes.
The color was not easy to wear, yet on this woman it carried a distinct presence.
Vincent did not consider himself someone who handed out compliments easily.
He rarely looked at the world with open appreciation.
But this witch, he decided, was powerful.
Powerful people deserved more of his attention.
Just like particularly interesting experimental specimens deserved more of a scientist’s focus.
The last powerful wizard he had met was Dumbledore, the one who had said those strange things to him in Diagon Alley.
Hagrid gave Professor McGonagall a small nod.
“The first-years, Professor McGonagall.” Professor McGonagall—the deputy headmistress whose name had appeared on the Hogwarts acceptance letters.
She led the young witches and wizards up a stone-flagged corridor lined with burning torches.
Everything inside the castle became clear as they climbed the steps.
Just before they entered the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall explained the rules and what would happen next.
Vincent had already studied Hogwarts: A History thoroughly after returning from Diagon Alley.
Everything she said was already clear to him.
Even Harry had committed most of it to memory.
Professor McGonagall turned and went into the Hall to prepare.
Harry leaned closer to Vincent and whispered.
“How can they sort us into the right houses so accurately?
The book didn’t say anything about that, right?” “Why not ask Ron?
His older brothers are already at Hogwarts.” Harry turned at once.
Ron only scratched his head.
“I think it’s some kind of test.
I’m not really sure.
Fred said it does us a lot of harm, but I figure he was just joking.” Even Hermione, who had been full of confidence since they met, now looked nervous.
She kept murmuring under her breath.
Vincent felt no nerves at all.
He was certain the Hogwarts test would not be difficult.
Whatever form it took, he was confident he could pass it easily.
Through the cluster of heads he spotted Draco, whom he had met once before, and Theodore, with whom he had shared that “friendly” conversation on the train.
“Looks like everyone was right.
Harry Potter really did come to Hogwarts.” The blond boy Vincent remembered so clearly walked over of his own accord, still wearing that unbearably proud expression, yet he held out his hand to Harry.
If he had known in Madam Malkin’s that this was Harry Potter, his attitude back then would have been far warmer.
Vincent didn’t even need to think to know how Harry would react.
He watched Harry refuse the offered hand without the slightest change in his own expression.
“Harry, want to make a bet?
I predict your entire school life at Hogwarts is going to be tangled up with him.” Harry looked as if he had just heard a terrible curse.
“Tell me you’re not secretly practicing some dark magic on me.” Vincent only tugged one corner of his mouth.
“Not right now.
Later is another story.” The doors opened again.
Professor McGonagall led the first-years inside.
The ceiling of the Great Hall soared so high it seemed not to exist at all.
Only floating candles hung in the air.
Pearly-white ghosts drifted between them, chattering among themselves.
Vincent tried to pick out anything useful from their talk and quickly realized almost everything they said could already be found in books.
In the solemn, majestic Great Hall of Hogwarts, candlelight flickered across every expectant new face.
The professor placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years and set an old, patched wizard’s hat on top of it.
A moment later they heard the hat begin to sing a strange song.
Vincent suddenly decided that if this was the test, his confidence might have taken a hit.
Even worse, when the song ended the entire Hall erupted in applause.
Witches and wizards at all four long tables clapped for it.
Vincent began to suspect the magical world had no aesthetic sense.
It couldn’t possibly be his taste that was the problem.
Vincent never doubted himself.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment and began calling names one by one.
“When your name is called, please come forward, put on the hat, sit on the stool, and prepare to be Sorted.” Her eyes flicked quickly over the parchment, then she looked up.
“Hannah Abbott.” Vincent watched a blond girl step out of the line.
She put on the hat.
After only a brief pause the hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!” So Sorting was this simple?
Just watching a hat decide where people belonged.
Vincent paid little attention to the others, only giving extra notice when Theodore Nott was Sorted.
He had calculated the alphabetical order carefully and expected his own name to come before Harry’s.
In reality, after every other name had been called, he was the very last person left.
Ah.
Riddle.
The name only made people more curious.
Vincent stood there as the young witches and wizards around him dwindled one by one.
He felt not the slightest nervousness.
His posture remained straight as a pine, carrying a natural steadiness.
He was a little taller than most of his peers, which made him stand out in the crowd.
His short black hair was neat and sharp.
His forehead was broad and clear.
Beneath slightly raised brows sat a pair of deep, bright eyes like cold stars in the night sky—calm, thoughtful, and distant.
Dumbledore’s gaze had stayed on him the entire time.
Watching that cool, detached expression, the old wizard felt the image overlap more and more with a certain boy from the past.
He did not know whether this counted as history repeating itself.
But an experienced wizard who had already lived through it once understood exactly what methods were needed to change a young wizard this time.
He could not claim he had been entirely without responsibility for what happened back then.
Finally it was Vincent’s turn.
He walked forward slowly and sat on the four-legged stool.
He had noticed that the Sorting Hat spent different amounts of time on different students.
Malfoy had been sorted into Slytherin almost instantly.
Harry had taken a long while before the hat settled on Gryffindor.
Vincent knew Harry well enough to read from his expression and posture that he had been arguing with the hat.
A hat that could hold conversations—Vincent was a little curious.
The Sorting Hat was placed gently on his head.
After a moment of silence a low, weathered voice spoke inside Vincent’s mind.
“Hmm, let’s see.
Bravery mixed with cunning, ambition tempered by reason.
Child, you have the qualities of a Slytherin.
I believe Slytherin House would suit you very well.” Vincent frowned and refused firmly.
“No, Mr.
Sorting Hat.
I do not believe I am suited to Slytherin.
I hunger for knowledge.
I have an endless pursuit of wisdom.
I only want to go to Ravenclaw.” The old hat seemed slightly surprised.
It fell silent again in thought.
“Child, Slytherin can give you glory and power.
Why are you so determined to go to Ravenclaw?
You are better suited there.” “What does ‘suited’ even mean?
What I like should become suitable even if it isn’t.
I believe Ravenclaw suits me better.” A firm light shone in Vincent’s eyes.
“Mr.
Sorting Hat, glory and power are not what I seek.
I revere knowledge.
I long to explore the unknown world from Ravenclaw’s high towers and exchange ideas with the wise.
The ocean of knowledge is where my heart belongs.” If he had not come here to learn more, Vincent believed he might have gone to Oxford someday.
Whether by scoring high enough or by donating a building, he could have managed either.
The Sorting Hat quivered slightly.
“Very well, very well.
This year’s first-years are certainly stubborn.
Since you are so determined, then Ravenclaw it is.
I hope you find the wisdom you seek there.” “Ravenclaw!” the hat shouted aloud.
As the words fell, a small smile curved Vincent’s lips.
He stood and walked toward the Ravenclaw table, greeted by the enthusiastic applause of his new housemates.
He looked calmly at everything around him.
In his eyes every house was simply a place to study magic, nothing more.
He knew his own hunger for knowledge and his passion for deep exploration.
Ravenclaw’s strong academic atmosphere was the place that truly suited him.
Harry and his newly made friends had all gone to Gryffindor.
When he heard Vincent had been sorted into Ravenclaw, Harry felt a mixture of disappointment and relief.
At least it wasn’t Slytherin.
Ron had described Slytherin to him: a pack of people who relied on family money to do whatever they wanted, who spoke with sharp, cutting tongues and constantly put others down, most of whom eventually became dark wizards.
Aside from the “do whatever they wanted” part, Vincent matched almost every description.
Harry did not want his friend carrying the risk of becoming a dark wizard.
Vincent nodded to Harry across the Hall, then noticed Theodore’s gaze in the next second.
Theodore looked away almost immediately, as if trying to pretend the glance had been accidental.
Once seated at the Ravenclaw table, Vincent let his cool gaze drift idly through the crowd before settling on Theodore once more.
Theodore—the Nott who was destined for Slytherin.
Vincent couldn’t help wondering whether Theodore had ever considered other possibilities for himself.
He studied the faintly proud, slightly cold expression on Theodore’s face and tried to guess at the thoughts behind it.
Perhaps in Theodore’s mind the traditions and reputation of Slytherin simply matched certain traits he already possessed, so he had never thought of going anywhere else.
Or perhaps, like Vincent, he had felt a flicker of curiosity toward other houses but had ultimately been bound by family expectations or his own fixed ideas.
Vincent did not know the answer, yet the question stirred a faint interest in him.
Similar yet different people.
While thinking about Theodore, Vincent also found himself thinking about the name Riddle.
Hogwarts’s previous “Riddle.” Once people learned he had gone to Ravenclaw, Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and even Hagrid, who had led them in, all seemed to relax a little.
The staff table was a short distance from the students.
Vincent looked over deliberately.
Dumbledore noticed the observation and gave him a smile.
Vincent had never planned to hide it anyway.
Whatever the textbooks left out, he would find for himself inside Hogwarts.
In this castle full of magic and mystery, everyone walked the path they had chosen.
Vincent would begin his own unique journey in Ravenclaw.
At the same time, he would occasionally keep an eye on classmates in other houses—Theodore, for example—and watch how they developed and changed along their own roads.
The feast itself satisfied Vincent.
The food tasted no worse than what he was used to, which was pleasant.
Near the end, Dumbledore suddenly stood and tapped his goblet.
The sound cut through the noisy Hall and brought almost instant silence.
Vincent looked over as well.