How could someone with such a positive image ever end up in Slytherin—a House that practically wore its ambitions and desires openly?
But Vincent knew something nobody else did.
Thanks to his natural gift as a born master of Occlumency, there was a very high chance he could resist the Sorting Hat’s method of peering into his thoughts.
How high?
Infinitely greater than ninety-nine percent.
He couldn’t even control the thing himself.
Probably only that naturally gifted Legilimens all the way over in America could possibly invade his mind.
Of course, the other three only treated it as a joke.
George even teased that if Vincent somehow ended up in Slytherin, that greasy-haired old bat professor would never have another peaceful day.
Fred added with encouragement:
“Go on—flood their dormitory with Dungbombs~”
“I’ll seriously consider it.”
Vincent’s expression was completely sincere.
All four of them burst out laughing.
Even Cuckoo opened his beak inside Cho’s arms and joined in with cheerful hoots.
Vincent had never felt this relaxed before.
It reminded him of being a child in his previous life.
Laughing without restraint.
Talking nonsense with friends.
Discussing ways to prank Slytherin.
No goals.
No pressure.
Just having fun.
Time slipped away unnoticed, and before long, the Hogwarts Express was nearing its final stop.
“Please leave your luggage on the train.
It will be brought to the school for you—”
A voice echoed through the train.
Vincent closed his suitcase.
“For us?
Besides students and the driver, are there other people here?”
“Of course.”
Fred looked around the compartment dramatically.
“As a qualified house-elf, you should never be able to notice one’s existence.”
Then he shared a little story about the kitchens.
More than a hundred house-elves prepared meals for Hogwarts students and staff.
The food that appeared magically on tables was actually transported from the kitchens through their unique magic.
Vincent nodded thoughtfully.
“The little goblin-looking ones?”
George immediately pulled on his ears.
“Pointy ears upward?
Goblins.”
“Bat ears downward?
House-elves.”
“Easiest way to tell them apart.”
Trying to describe skin color and appearance to someone who had never seen them before was pointless anyway.
Vincent opened the compartment door and accepted Cuckoo back from Cho.
The little traitor stared at her with reluctant eyes.
Hopeless.
The weight-loss plan failed.
And the betrayal was very real.
Even while Hermione stood in the corridor glaring murderously at him, Vincent stubbornly continued roughly rubbing Cuckoo’s head.
“First-years, over here!”
Standing beside the train was a giant over three meters tall, holding a lantern in a hand thicker than an adult’s thigh.
Long black hair and a tangled beard almost completely hid his face.
His eyes shone beneath it like black beetles.
His boots looked like two baby dolphins.
“Harry!
Over here!
How are yeh?”
The giant wore a smile as innocent as a child’s.
Nothing like his frightening appearance.
The twins and Cho waved goodbye.
“See you in the Great Hall, mate!”
“See you!”
Under Hermione’s suspicious gaze, Vincent calmly followed the group of first-years.
Across the lake, distant lights from a castle flickered.
The greatest school in the world—
Hogwarts.
The giant introduced himself.
“I’m Rubeus Hagrid.
Keeper o’ Keys and Groundskeeper at Hogwarts.”
He stepped onto a small boat.
“No more than four students per boat—”
The boat instantly sank halfway into the lake.
Not exactly convincing.
Hagrid looked toward Harry standing in the crowd.
“Remember!
No more than four!”
Then he sat down fully.
The boat sank even deeper and sent ripples and splashes across the water.
Harry and Ron exchanged looks.
Neither chose to squeeze into Hagrid’s boat.
Vincent watched students board one after another without hurrying.
Blondie and his two followers had boarded with a girl who looked vaguely like a poodle.
Honestly, the other three lowered the blond boy’s otherwise decent looks.
At such a young age, he already understood contrast enhancement.
He’d definitely become troublesome when older.
Soon Harry and Ron boarded a boat with two other boys.
After more than half the students had boarded, Vincent finally sat near the edge of a boat.
Then—
“You two?”
Hermione and Neville silently climbed aboard behind him.
“Fine.
Whatever.”
Vincent moved toward the back.
Whenever another first-year approached, he simply pointed at Cuckoo in his arms.
“Full.”
Neville timidly raised his lantern.
“Counting Trevor, we’re already overloaded.”
“Should I jump out then?”
Ignoring Hermione’s stare, Vincent shrugged.
“Pets probably don’t count.”
“Oh—and your robe strap is crooked.”
Neville immediately looked down.
“Th-thanks!”
After several awkward attempts and complete chaos, Neville finally tied it correctly.
Hermione’s eyes softened slightly.
“Then why did you chase everyone else away?”
“Cuckoo isn’t my pet.”
Vincent gently tapped the fluffy little bird.
“He’s my first friend in the magical world…”
If he couldn’t clear up misunderstandings, improving his image was the next best thing.
So Vincent began telling a story.
A little boy who had dreamed of magic his whole life.
A letter-delivering owl.
A summer full of strange adventures together.
As the boats moved automatically after one of Hagrid’s booming commands, Neville listened with fascination.
Hermione acted uninterested.
But she listened too.
Slowly, both of them began changing their impression of little Vincent.
“The owl was too greedy, so after only one month he became round as a ball.”
“Coo!”
Commander Cuckoo angrily pecked Vincent’s hand.
“Okay, okay.
My fault.”
Neville laughed.
Even Hermione’s stiff expression trembled slightly.
“You think Professor McGonagall will still recognize Cuckoo?”
“She probably…
will?”
“What do you think?”
“She definitely will.”
If Vincent’s father hadn’t challenged Gamp’s Law involving alcohol, maybe McGonagall wouldn’t have arrived a day late for her home visit.
“HEAD DOWN!”
Hagrid’s booming voice rang out again.
Passing beneath a cliff covered with ivy curtains, over twenty boats drifted into a dark tunnel.
“You didn’t take him hunting rats in sewers, did you?”
Hermione still looked suspicious.
“Of course not.”
Vincent looked offended.
“Cuckoo only eats field mice.”
“He’s not interested in normal rats.”
Neville finally stopped shrinking into himself.
“He’s not interested in toads either…
right?”
“Coo.”
Vincent nodded.
“He says Trevor looks slimy.”
“Doesn’t seem tasty.”
Hermione immediately raised her chin.
“Owls hunting mice is natural.”
“But you successfully corrupted a perfectly respectable Hogwarts delivery owl.”
There was a saying in the distant East:
Stay near vermilion, and you become red.
Stay near ink, and you become black.
Stay near Vincent?
Hermione still doubted anything good would happen.