Since this is the second playthrough, it's time to let loose! (Please read on!)
"Hello, are you also a new student at Hogwarts?"
Just as Owen was about to burst into tears, a clear girl's voice came from behind him.
He turned around in disappointment—and there stood yet another figure who, to him, felt extremely wrong.
"Um… what's wrong?"
Hermione's bright brown eyes flickered with faint disdain.
Who is this boy?
How old is he? And he's crying about going to school?
She didn't even cry when she went to kindergarten.
"Nothing. I'm just happy to see someone so fair-skinned."
Owen quickly wiped away the tears threatening to fall. His words sounded ambiguous, but he truly meant it.
Especially after remembering the other Hermione—dark, colorful-faced from repeated battles—this one felt like paradise.
"My name is Owen. Owen Sanchez. Nice to meet you."
Seeing the increasingly wary expressions from the Grangers behind her, he straightened his posture and added solemnly, "First-year student at Hogwarts."
"Hermione. Hermione Granger."
The girl took a cautious half-step back.
Under her parents' warning gazes, Hermione quietly wheeled her luggage past him without further conversation.
Hmm…
Owen could almost see a floating "(–10 Favorability)" above the Granger family's heads.
How unfortunate.
Last time, he and the Grangers had been enemies—
The type where people throw Avada Kedavra at one another.
This time… since he was in the movie version of the world, should he settle that unfinished business?
A normal Death Eater wasn't very promising anyway…
Still pondering, Owen followed the Weasleys through the barrier.
---
The instant he pushed through, the scent of hot steam rushed toward him. The scarlet Hogwarts Express let out a shrill whistle.
Crowds bustling, owls screeching, luggage scraping—
It felt like a million crows cawing in his ears.
After squeezing through the crowds, he dragged his trunk onto the train. The corridor was packed.
The first few carriages were already full.
Students were chatting, laughing, leaning out the windows to call to their families.
"Tsk tsk…"
Watching first-years half-dangling out the windows, their reddish-brown ties flapping, Owen couldn't help recalling the phrase:
"There are countless roads, but safety is paramount."
Eventually, after several cars, he found a nearly empty compartment.
"What a coincidence, Miss Granger."
Inside sat Hermione—and a round-faced boy clutching his toad-less lap nervously.
"It is quite a coincidence," she said, frowning. Something about Owen felt… dangerous.
"Don't look at me like that."
Owen stowed his trunk, plopped down beside Neville, and continued,
"I'm a good person. Really."
"At least… for now."
"I've never had much experience in this area, though. Might need advice later."
He admitted inwardly that his previous life as a Death Eater left him with plenty of dark-wizard habits…
But he hadn't actually done anything terrible.
Not really.
After all, in that playthrough, the Death Eaters were considered a "righteous" faction.
And he—cough cough—only dealt with a few androgynous traitors.
The train whistle shrieked.
Hermione instantly withdrew her attention, pulled a thick spellbook—A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration—from her bag, sat by the window, and began reading.
Neville, stiff as a board, didn't even mention his missing toad.
---
About an hour later, the train left London and sped past green fields dotted with cows and sheep.
A commotion grew in the corridor.
The trolley witch pushed open the door with her usual dimpled smile.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
"Oh! No, thank you. Gran packed lunch," Neville murmured first.
"Please give me some dessert and—absolutely no Flavoured Beans!"
Owen reached into his pocket.
"I'm sorry, dear," the witch sighed. "All the desserts were bought by the boy with the scar—first few compartments."
"What?"
Owen froze mid-reach. "You sold everything to him?"
"He's rich," she said cheerfully. "But pumpkin pasties and cauldron cakes are quite good too!"
"No, thank you."
He stood abruptly, sliding the silver scissors back into his pocket and pulling out his grandfather's wand instead.
"Where are you going?"
Hermione's intuition screamed danger.
"Heh—nothing serious."
Owen gave her a shy smile.
"I'm just going to speak with the Boy Who Lived…
Who also stole my snacks."
Hermione stared in horror as he left.
---
Thirty seconds later, the compartment door slammed open again.
It was Owen.
Holding an armload of snacks.
He sat calmly, tore open a random package, and said, "I'm back. Want some?"
"These are all gifts from Harry. No wonder he's the famous hero who survived—you know—many disasters. Very generous."
Hermione stared at the mountain of sweets covering the table.
"He gave you all his snacks?"
"Yeah!"
"Voluntarily?"
"Yeah!"
He nodded, though his expression betrayed him.
"What nonsense! Do you think I'd believe that?"
The little witch stood up angrily and stormed out.
"Uh… why doesn't she believe it?"
Owen bit into a cake-like dessert and glanced at Neville. "Want some?"
"N-no thank you," Neville whispered, trembling. He looked close to tears.
"Let's be friends!"
Owen shoved a bag of candy into Neville's hands.
"What's wrong? Are you trying to embarrass me?"