The arrival of the 1st of September was inevitable for other students, but it was a simple reality of being the very next day for Vale.
Vale watched as Snape swept ahead of him through King's Cross Station, black robes somehow invisible to Muggle eyes. The man moved with purpose, expecting Vale to follow without question or delay.
A child might have scurried after him, wide-eyed and grateful. Instead, Vale matched his pace with calculated precision.
"Platform nine and three-quarters," Snape said, gesturing to the brick barrier between platforms nine and ten. "Walk directly at it. Do not hesitate."
Vale nodded, noting the absence of explanation. No warm introduction to a magical milestone.
No "this is how wizards do it."
Just a command.
"Thank you, Professor," Vale said, injecting just enough innocent wonder into his voice.
Snape's eyes narrowed fractionally. "Your trunk will be loaded separately."
Another piece clicked into place. No chance to pack his own belongings. No opportunity to slip contraband into his luggage. No moment unwatched.
The other first-years around them had their letters which arrived weeks ago. They'd had time to read their textbooks, to practice holding their wands, to whisper spells under their breath without casting. Parents hugged children goodbye, offering last-minute advice and reassurances.
Vale stood alone with Snape, his wand barely twelve hours in his possession, his books uncracked, his robes still smelling of the shop. He'd had no time to prepare, to plan, to arm himself with knowledge.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Windrow?" Snape asked, his voice dangerously soft.
Vale smiled. "No, sir. Just excited."
It was deliberate, of course. Keep the potential Obscurial off-balance. Limit his resources. Watch him scramble to catch up. A test designed to provoke instability in a normal child.
But Vale wasn't normal, and he recognised the game being played. Where they sought weakness, he would demonstrate adaptability. Where they expected frustration, he would show calm.
"Well?" Snape prompted. "The train departs in seven minutes."
Vale faced the barrier, a calculating smile hidden beneath his mask of childish anticipation.
"See you at school, Professor."
Vale slipped through the barrier and onto Platform 9¾, the magical transition barely registering and leaving Snape behind.
"…Wow,"
The Hogwarts Express gleamed scarlet against billowing steam, a scene so iconic it felt surreal to witness firsthand.
Parents hugged children goodbye. Owls hooted in their cages. Older students shouted greetings across the platform. Vale observed it all with detachment, committing important details to memory.
Each fragment of normalcy would help him construct his façade.
The train whistle blew. Vale boarded without a backward glance, pulling his school robes tighter around him. He'd insisted on wearing them immediately—partly to blend in, partly because they were the only clothes truly his.
A sense of tension coiled in his gut as he navigated the narrow corridor.
Choosing where to sit was integral to his survival.
Each compartment presented new variables—potential allies, enemies, or witnesses. Some were filled with boisterous upper years, others with anxious first-years huddled together. Vale passed them all, searching for something specific without knowing what.
He paused at a compartment halfway down the train. Through the glass, he caught a glimpse of two familiar faces—Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott, the nervous pair from Eeylops Owl Emporium.
They sat across from each other, Hannah's spectacles sliding down her nose as she spoke animatedly. Neville clutched his toad with white-knuckled intensity.
Their eyes flicked toward the door as Vale's shadow darkened it. Recognition dawned on their faces, followed by tentative smiles—not quite expectant, but hopeful. They seemed unsure whether to acknowledge their brief connection in Diagon Alley.
Vale hesitated. Complex considerations flashed in his mind. Stuff about them being side characters — inconsequential to the plot, or possible tools to help himself in the future.
'…Why am I overthinking this?'
It was better to just go with the flow. His hand thus moved to the handle.
Hannah's smile widened slightly. Neville's grip on his toad loosened.
In the end, Vale slid open the compartment door.
* * *
Vale slid the compartment door shut behind him and settled into the empty seat beside Neville. The awkward silence that followed felt almost comical—three children bound for the same strange future, each unsure how to bridge the gap.
"So," Hannah began, pushing her glasses up with one finger. "Are you excited? For Hogwarts, I mean."
Vale considered the question. Excited wasn't quite right. Calculating. Vigilant. Determined. But none of those felt appropriate to share.
"Yes," he said simply. "I am."
Neville's toad gave a mighty leap, nearly escaping his grasp. "Trevor! Sorry. He's been trying to make a break for it all morning."
"He looks like a runner," Vale observed. "Honestly, a better choice than an owl, for you, at least."
Hannah giggled, the sound unexpectedly genuine.
"My mum says toads are the most stubborn pets. That's why I wanted an owl." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small paper package. "Pumpkin Pasty? My dad bought extra."
Vale accepted one, surprised by the warmth that spread through his fingers. "Thank you."
"Did you get all your school supplies alright?" Hannah asked, biting into her own pasty.
"Just yesterday," Vale answered truthfully. "It was... rushed."
"I lost my book list twice," Neville admitted, his cheeks flushing. "Gran nearly had a fit."
Vale found himself smiling—not the calculated expression he typically wore, but something genuine. These questions required no lies, no misdirection. They were simple, and for once, he could answer simply.
"What subject are you looking forward to most?" Hannah asked.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Vale replied without hesitation.
"Really? Gran says Professor Quirrell's a bit of a joke," Neville said, then immediately looked horrified at his own boldness.
Vale shrugged. "Still interesting, though. What about you?"
"Herbology," Neville mumbled. "Plants make sense to me."
"Charms for me," Hannah added. "My mum says it's the most useful magic for everyday life."
The conversation flowed naturally after that, punctuated by Trevor's escape attempts and Hannah's occasional offerings from her seemingly endless supply of snacks. Vale found himself answering question after question with unexpected honesty.
No one asked about his past. No one scrutinised his responses for hidden meaning. No one probed for weakness or inconsistency.
It was just three children, trying to make sense of the unknown together.
Perhaps this was the extension of yesterday's first meeting. Vale finally pieced together how the two had met earlier than in the original.
"Trevor must have been terrified of Snape walking through Diagon Alley with me."
It was the oddest conjecture he had made in the last twenty four hours, toppling even the semi-fictional research paper he crammed.
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