Sitting in a cabin of the Hogwarts Express, I leaned back against the plush seat, the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks soothing in its familiarity. With a book of spells in my lap, I immersed myself in the intricacies of complex incantations and wand movements. Each page offered new insights, deepening my understanding of magic. But beneath the surface of my concentration, my mind wandered to the basilisk lurking beneath the castle.
The memory of the Chamber of Secrets and the danger it posed to Muggle-borns like me gnawed at my thoughts. I knew I had to interfere with the plot this time. Allowing the events to unfold as they did in the story wasn't an option. The threat was too real, too personal. I needed a plan to stop the basilisk and retrieve Tom Riddle's diary from Ginny Weasley. But how to do that without drawing unwanted attention?
The train began to fill with students, laughter and chatter echoing through the corridors. I barely registered the noise, lost in my book, until the door to my compartment slid open. Looking up, I saw Hermione Granger standing there, looking a bit flustered.
"Mind if I sit here? I couldn't find my friends," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of frustration.
"Of course," I replied, gesturing to the seat across from me.
The train jolted slightly as it started moving, and Hermione settled into her seat. I returned to my book, but I could feel her eyes on me, studying me with curiosity.
"I'm Vincent Van Doren, by the way," I said, breaking the silence. "And you must be Hermione Granger. Your performance in our first year was quite impressive."
She looked surprised, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "Thank you. I didn't expect such politeness from a Slytherin."
I chuckled softly, closing my book. "Not all Slytherins fit the stereotype. Besides, I'm Muggle-born myself."
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise as she took a closer look at me. I was dressed in dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and an open black hoodie—very much the attire of a Muggle. Her gaze lingered on my clothes, then my face, and I saw a flicker of surprise as she noted my features.
"You... you don't look like I expected," she said, clearly flustered. "I thought you were a pure-blood, given your mannerisms and the fact you were sorted into Slytherin."
"Appearances can be deceiving," I said with a smile. "But yes, I'm a Muggle-born. It's not exactly easy, but I manage."
Her curiosity piqued, Hermione leaned forward. "What's it like, being a Muggle-born in Slytherin?"
"There's definitely prejudice," I admitted. "But those who are bigoted are either good at hiding it or pretend they don't care enough to make it an issue. My only real confrontation was with Malfoy, but I put him in his place. The world isn't as black and white as some people think."
Hermione looked thoughtful. "I'm glad someone stood up to Malfoy. He's insufferable."
We continued our conversation, delving into topics both magical and mundane. We discussed movies, books, and music, finding common ground in our shared Muggle background. I mentioned missing listening to my favorite songs at Hogwarts, which led to a lively discussion about our favorite bands and artists.
"Are you keeping up with your "normal" education?" I asked at one point. "Do you have plans to go to university?"
"I…I actually hadn't thought about that ," she replied. "I guess I need to plan to continue my studies and possibly go to university. There's so much to learn in both worlds."
"True," I nodded.
A comfortable silence settled between us, broken only by the occasional comment about the scenery outside the window or a random thought about school. As we talked, I couldn't help but be impressed by Hermione's intelligence and passion for learning.
"So, how do you find time for everything?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Between magic and Muggle studies?"
"It's all about prioritizing," I said. "I set strict schedules. It helps that my grandparents are very supportive. They make sure I have everything I need."
"Your grandparents seem really nice," Hermione remarked.
"Yeah," I admitted . "How about you? Your parents must be proud."
"They are," she smiled. "They don't fully understand the magical world, but they're supportive."
Our conversation continued in this easy, friendly manner. We touched on everything from favorite books to the most challenging spells we'd encountered. Hermione was genuinely interested in my experiences, and I found myself enjoying the conversation more than I had anticipated.
About ten minutes before we were due to arrive at Hogsmeade Station, I excused myself to give Hermione some privacy to change into her school robes. As I stepped into the corridor, I ran into Blaise Zabini.
"Vincent," Blaise greeted me with a nod. "Enjoyed your summer?"
"It was productive," I replied. "How about you?"
"Same. Learned a few new spells, spent some time with family."
We chatted for a few minutes before I excused myself to change into my own robes. Hermione returned the favor, giving me privacy as I donned my Slytherin attire. The train pulled into the station, and we gathered our belongings, ready to disembark.
"Thanks for the company," Hermione said with a smile as we stepped off the train. "It was nice talking to you."
"Likewise," I replied. "Good luck this year, Hermione."
We parted ways, and I spotted Blaise again, this time with Daphne Greengrass and a few other Slytherins. We climbed into a carriage together, the Thestrals pulling us along the familiar path to Hogwarts.
"So, how was your summer, Vincent?" Daphne asked, her eyes curious.
"Busy," I said simply. "Lots of studying and preparation."
"Always the diligent one," Daphne teased. "Any interesting projects?"
"Just brushing up on some advanced spells," I replied, keeping it vague. "You know how it is."
"Of course," she said with a knowing smile. "Any plans for this year?"
"Stay ahead, avoid trouble," I said with a smirk. "The usual."
The conversation flowed easily, and soon enough, we were back in the Great Hall. The first years were sorted, Potter crashed into the Whomping Willow, and the familiar buzz of Hogwarts life resumed.
Later that night, as I lay in my bed, I thought about the basilisk again. I knew Ginny had the diary, and I needed to get it from her. But how? It would require careful planning and precise execution. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart.
I fell asleep with these thoughts swirling in my mind, knowing that this year would be even more challenging than the last. But I was ready. I had to be. The fate of many depended on it.