"At last, I'm on this train."
Sorimus watched the hurried young witches and wizards outside the carriage window, his feelings complicated. Compared with that school that could practically kill a person, Hogwarts was far more comfortable. He knew very well that for the next several years, something would go wrong at Hogwarts every single year. Even so, that was still better than being forced to endure the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse once every month at the other school.
Sorimus could not help recalling the fragments of the eleven years he had lived through.
According to the grandfather of this body, he had been cut from the womb of his pitiful mother after she was struck by the Killing Curse. At the time, the event had caused an enormous stir in certain circles. Sorimus had still been alive then. That alone was enough to defy common sense. But Sorimus himself understood the truth: the real Sorimus had already died.
And he, having inherited this body, had also inherited a great many troubles.
His full name was Sorimus Ominis Selwyn. Originally, he had not been qualified to use the surname Selwyn at all. Rumor said he was a bastard child, the son born from the current head of the Selwyn family and another witch. Even now, Sorimus knew nothing about his mother except that she had also been a witch. Beyond that, no trace of her could be found. Everyone he knew had no impression of her whatsoever. The reason Sorimus was allowed to bear the Selwyn name was because of his grandfather, an old man who cared deeply about the continuation of the family bloodline.
To be honest, Sorimus had no intention of avenging the birth mother of this body.
But having no intention of revenge did not mean he felt nothing. He was still grateful to her. Without her, there would be no him now. Not wanting revenge also did not mean he had no desire to uncover the truth. A heavily pregnant woman had been murdered, with the illegitimate child of a great family's patriarch still in her womb. Sorimus felt that even the chair under his backside could work out who had the strongest motive.
He had never expected something so melodramatic to happen to him.
Sorimus had two older brothers and one younger sister, all of them the legitimate children of Mrs. Selwyn.
His eldest brother, Dax, was a young man filled from head to toe with violent aggression. His second brother, Sabiantis, was a lifeless bore who seemed wrapped in dead air. As for the youngest, his little sister Silna, it was more or less certain that she was a Squib. In pure-blood families, any child who had not shown accidental magic by the age of nine was almost certainly a Squib.
The pure-blood wizards' obsession with purity of blood was not entirely without reason.
Sorimus had been in contact with the wizarding world for eleven years. He knew exactly how much the timing of a magical outburst could affect a wizard's future. Just think of Neville from the original story. He had shown no accidental magic even at the age of eight, and his uncle had been so convinced he was a Squib that he threw him out of a window in panic.
And then there was his little sister.
She was clever, kind, adorable, and considerate. Of all Mrs. Selwyn's children, she was the one closest to Sorimus. Looking again at his two older brothers, one was a violent brute who resorted to force at the slightest disagreement, and the other was so withdrawn that even three slaps could not knock a word out of him.
Still, Sorimus knew they could not be blamed entirely.
Before he came to Hogwarts, the three brothers had all attended the same school.
For pure-blood families like theirs, talented children would be sent to that so-called Scholomance within a week of their first magical outburst. And then, beginning at the age of seven, they would suffer the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse once every month. The ones casting them were all great wizards unknown to the outside world, and the strength of the curses was always controlled to the lowest level the children could endure.
But just think about it.
Every witch and wizard in that school over the age of seven had to undergo two rounds of torture every month. How could anyone who grew up that way possibly remain normal? And as they grew older, the power of both the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse would increase with age. If a student failed to break free of the Imperius Curse within the required time, or failed to recover from the agony of the Cruciatus Curse quickly enough, there would be additional punishment waiting.
Every student at Scholomance knew why they were subjected to that torment.
They also knew that, in the controlled conditions of the school, such suffering was supposed to benefit them. It was all preparation for the work and careers awaiting those qualified to enter that school.
Sorimus knew that too.
But he did not want, and was unwilling, to engage in that sort of work in the future.
What was more, his so-called qualification had been granted by his grandfather. He was not truly part of the direct Selwyn line, even if he did bear the Selwyn surname. That was why Sorimus had the opportunity, and the possibility, to break away from that school. Of course, he knew that leaving it meant losing access to a great deal of magical knowledge that would never be passed on to outsiders.
Still, compared with the dark, oppressive atmosphere of Scholomance, the sunlight and vitality of Hogwarts were far more appealing.
Besides...
Sorimus lifted his eyes and glanced toward the trunk on the luggage rack.
So what if no one taught him? Could he not teach himself?
"S-Sorimus, I... I..."
A chubby little boy appeared at the compartment door. One hand dragged a trunk that was obviously very heavy, while the other clutched tightly around a... well, a toad.
"Oh, enough, Neville. Since you're here, sit down first and put your trunk away."
Sorimus raised one finger and pointed toward the luggage rack.
"And stop being so nervous. I'm not going to eat you. Relax a little, or you're going to squeeze your toad to death."
Rolling his eyes, Sorimus looked thoroughly helpless.
There was nothing strange about Sorimus knowing Neville. They were relatives. Sorimus's grandmother and the wife of Neville's grandfather's brother were sisters. When Sorimus had first learned that the chubby boy in front of him was actually his cousin, his first thought had been that if he really started tracing family ties, he probably had no idea how many relatives of his were lurking in Hogwarts.
As Neville squeezed into the compartment while hauling his trunk behind him, Sorimus caught sight of the mass behind Neville's back.
A clump of seaweed.
Well, no, hair.
A bushy mess of brown curls, and beneath it, a small freckled face.
"Hurry it up, Neville. There's someone behind you too."
Sorimus and the little girl standing in the doorway both watched as Neville stood there awkwardly, one hand pulling the trunk, the other clutching the toad, utterly at a loss.
"S-Sorimus, could you maybe..."
Neville's face turned red. He struggled for a long while before forcing out a single sentence, only to be interrupted before he could finish.
"No."
Sorimus looked with naked disgust at the toad in Neville's hand.
"I only touch revolting things like that when I'm processing potion ingredients. But I can help you put the trunk away."
"Oh, goodness, how did you do that?"
The little girl at the door widened her eyes and stared at Sorimus's right hand, which held no wand at all. Then she looked up at the trunk, which had already been placed neatly on the rack.
"The Levitation Charm. I read about it in a book, but I didn't expect a young wizard to be able to do it without a wand."
The freckled girl sounded as if she had witnessed something astonishing.
"Need me to put yours up too, Miss 'Making a Fuss Over Nothing'?"
Sorimus shifted his gaze back to Neville.
"And Neville, your trunk's already up there, so why are you still standing around like a wooden post? Sit down already. Don't block the doorway."
Neville still looked dazed, as if a troll had just smacked him across the head with a club.
Turning back, Sorimus repeated the trick and lifted the little girl's trunk onto the rack as well.