"Hello, are you also a new student at Hogwarts?"
Just as Owen was about to burst into tears, a clear girl's voice suddenly came from behind him.
He turned around in disappointment, and yet another extremely 'wrong' figure appeared in front of him.
"Um—what's wrong?"
Hermione's bright brown eyes flashed with a hint of disdain.
Who is this guy!
How old is he, still crying about going to school ?
She didn't even cry when she first went to kindergarten.
"Nothing, I'm just happy to see you, so fair-skinned." Owen reached out and wiped away the tears that were about to fall from the corners of his eyes. Although his words might cause some unnecessary ambiguity, he swore he was genuinely happy.
Especially after seeing a certain Hermione with a face full of dark, colorful features, this happiness was particularly strong.
"My name is Owen, Owen Sanchez. It's nice to meet you." Seeing the increasingly hostile gaze from the Grangers behind Hermione, Owen quickly suppressed his inner turmoil and said with feigned seriousness, "A first-year student at Hogwarts."
"Hermione, Hermione Granger." The little girl visibly took a small step back.
Then, under the Grangers' slightly warning glances, Hermione didn't say another word and pushed her luggage past him.
Hmm…
Owen vaguely saw the words "(-10 favorability)" flash above Hermione and her parents' heads.
How unfortunate!
Last time, they were constantly at odds, hmm—the kind where they throw "Avada Kedavra" at each other.
This time—since they're characters in the movies, should he continue his unfinished business?
A normal version of a Death Eater doesn't seem very promising!
Owen pondered this as he followed the Weasleys through the wall.
"Whoosh~"
The moment Owen squeezed through the wall, he immediately smelled the thick smoke of a steam locomotive and heard its whistle.
The bustling crowd chattered, with buzzing voices, the scraping of luggage, and the piercing hooting of owls rising and falling.
It felt like a million crows were cawing in his ears.
After finally squeezing through the crowd, Owen pushed his luggage onto the train.
Unexpectedly, the aisle was still very crowded.
The first few carriages were already full.
The young wizards in the compartments were either playing around or talking to their friends. Owen even saw a few leaning out of the windows to talk to their families.
"Tsk tsk." Looking at the little wizards with reddish-brown bow ties around their necks, half their bodies leaning out of the windows, Owen couldn't help but recall a saying: "There are countless roads, but safety is paramount; improper travel will bring tears to your loved ones' eyes."
Moving forward, after passing several carriages, Owen finally found a small compartment with only two people.
"What a coincidence! Miss Granger."
Inside the compartment were Hermione and a round-faced boy.
"It is quite a coincidence." The little witch frowned slightly; she felt that this boy, about her age, was somewhat—how to put it? Dangerous?
"Don't look at me like that." After placing his suitcase in the corner of the compartment, Owen sat down next to Neville and said to Hermione, "I'm a really good person."
"At least—for now."
"However, I've never had much experience in this area; I might have to ask for advice later."
Well, Owen admitted that his time as a Death Eater in his first playthrough had tainted him with a lot of dark wizarding traits.
But he hadn't actually done anything truly heinous; after all, the Death Eaters in his first playthrough were a legitimate 'righteous' organization.
Owen himself—cough cough—only managed to gnaw on a few androgynous traitors .
"Toot toot~"
At that moment, the train whistle sounded, and then the train slowly started moving.
Hermione, who had little desire to talk to him, immediately stopped paying attention to Owen. She took out a thick spellbook from her suitcase, leaned against the window, and began to read it by herself.
Neville sensed the oppressive atmosphere in the compartment. He sat stiffly in his seat, head down, not even daring to mention his lost pet toad.
About an hour passed.
The train had left London.
They were speeding along fields of cattle and sheep.
A commotion arose in the aisle, growing louder and louder.
Finally, a smiling woman with dimples pushed open the compartment door and asked, "Darling, would you like to buy any food from the train?"
"Oh! No, I brought some. My grandmother made lunch," Neville replied first.
"Please give me some dessert, and—no! Flavored! Beans!" Owen said solemnly, reaching into his pocket to pay.
"I'm sorry, child." The woman suddenly paused, then explained apologetically, "All the desserts were bought by the boy with the scar on his head in the first few cubicles."
"What?" Owen was stunned, his hand, which was about to take out his money, stopped in mid-air. "You sold everything to him?"
"He's rich." The woman said with a smile, seemingly very satisfied with today's big sale. "You can try the pumpkin pie or the potcake; they're delicious too."
"No, thank you." Owen suddenly stood up, putting the silver scissors back into his pocket.
Then he took out his grandfather's wand from another pocket.
"Hey, where are you going?" Hermione stared intently at Owen's departing figure, she had a premonition that something bad was about to happen.
"Heh—nothing."
Owen turned around, giving a shy smile.
"I'm going to meet the boy who survived and stole my snacks."
With that, Owen left the cubicle to Hermione's shocked gaze.
About half a minute later,
the cubicle door opened again.
It was Owen.
Holding a bunch of snacks, he calmly sat back down in his seat.
"I'm back," he said,
casually tearing open a bag of unidentified snacks. "You guys have some too."
"These are all gifts from Harry. No wonder he's the famous savior who survived so many disasters, so hospitable."
Hermione glanced at the snacks covering the entire table in the cubicle in shock, asking incredulously, "He gave you all his snacks?"
"Yeah!"
"Voluntarily?"
"Yeah!" Owen nodded reluctantly
. "What nonsense are you talking about? Do you think I'd believe that?" The little witch stood up angrily and walked out of the cubicle.
"Uh..."
"Why doesn't she believe it?" Owen stuffed a piece of dessert that looked like cake into his mouth, shook his head helplessly, and turned to Neville. "Want some?"
"No—no, thank you." Poor Neville leaned against the window, his trembling voice indicating he was about to cry.
"Let's be friends!" he said, casually shoving a bag of candy into Neville's hand. "Are you trying to embarrass me?"
(End of Chapter)