Time flies when you're buried in books.
When the professors rearranged his schedule, Owen didn't use the extra time to relax. Instead, he poured all of it into spell practice. He felt like he was right on the edge of mastering the Patronus Charm. The only thing missing was the right emotional trigger.
Owen had already figured out a plan. His old memories brought too much sadness to work as fuel. So, he decided to create new happiness, starting now.
Reading made him happy.
But...
When Professor McGonagall saw the young wizard standing by the window, watching the students leave for the holidays with a longing look in his eyes, her heart ached.
No, I can't wait any longer, she thought. Apprenticeship aside, we need to give this boy a home.
Owen didn't have any particular feelings about Christmas itself. He just envied the fact that other people had a home to go back to.
Deep down, Owen knew Dumbledore brought him to Hogwarts for his own good. But he also knew there was an element of confinement and surveillance. He missed home.
Not his current home, or even a specific place from his past life, but the concept of home—an instinct carved into his very blood.
That day, Owen didn't go to the library. He didn't sit in his study organizing notes, and he didn't practice magic in an empty classroom. Instead, he wandered alone to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, found a large tree, and slumped down against it.
Looking at his solitary footprints in the snow and the gray sky above, Owen couldn't help but reflect on his past and present lives.
People say the Water of Lethe makes you forget your past life, but they don't realize it's a mercy. Without the joys and sorrows of the past, you can fully embrace the present.
Thinking about this, Owen suddenly laughed. He laughed at himself for being so incredibly melodramatic.
He had been given a second chance at life and the ability to wield magic. How lucky was that? The past is gone, but the present is in his hands. Fate isn't something handed out to you; it's something you choose.
His laughter grew louder, shaking the snow off the branches above. Yet not a single flake touched him; the raw magic naturally radiating from his body blew them away.
In the midst of his laughter, the young wizard suddenly reached out his hand and shouted the incantation he had practiced a thousand times in his mind:
"Expecto Patronum!"
Silvery mist erupted from his hand, spreading outward. But in the center, the mist began to solidify. The smile on Owen's face remained unchanged as he poured more power into the spell. When he finally saw the form of his Patronus clearly, his smile widened.
SCREECH!!!
A phoenix song echoed through Hogwarts.
A flash of red light appeared as Dumbledore and Fawkes materialized. Other professors arrived moments later—some Apparating with a crack, others descending on broomsticks.
When they saw Owen, they all smiled.
A pure white phoenix was perched on the young wizard's shoulder. And the young wizard was currently face-planted in the snow, weighed down by the bird.
Being crushed by your own Patronus? That was definitely a first.
But you had to admit, that white phoenix...
---
Back in the Headmaster's office, Fawkes hopped onto Owen's shoulder, rubbing his head against the boy's cheek while eyeing the other bird on the opposite shoulder—a creature that looked similar but distinct.
The professors looked at Dumbledore with grave expressions.
The Patronus Charm is ancient magic, known as the ultimate defense against dark creatures. While few wizards today can cast a corporeal Patronus, it's not unheard of. At least two people in this office could do it.
Dumbledore's Patronus was also a phoenix, but it was made of silvery light—pure energy. Why was the boy's Patronus solid?
Was the spell successful?
Or did the boy mess up the incantation and accidentally summon a real phoenix?
"No, the white phoenix is real, but it is also Owen's Patronus. It's just..."
It took Dumbledore a while to unravel the magical theory behind it. Once he understood, the corner of his mouth twitched. He looked at the boy, who was gritting his teeth trying to support the weight of two phoenixes.
"Mr. Corlett, could you tell us how much magic you used when you cast that spell?"
"All of it!"
As soon as he spoke, his strength gave out. This time, he didn't just face-plant; he collapsed backward onto the floor. Flitwick moved to conjure a chair, but the boy went down too fast. McGonagall waved her wand, transforming the hard floor beneath him into a thick, soft rug.
Owen blushed. If his magical core wasn't completely empty, he wouldn't be this pathetic.
Both phoenixes hopped off his shoulders and simultaneously nudged his face with their heads. They were strong enough to squish his cheeks together, making his lips pucker.
It was... admittedly very cute.
McGonagall's heart melted. A certain idea resurfaced in her mind, and this time, the meter hit 100%.
Dumbledore laughed. "It seems my theory was correct. Owen, your magic grows too fast. If left unchecked, it would eventually harm your body. But fortunately, you succeeded. Your magic and your body have finally reached a true equilibrium."
The professors let out a collective sigh of relief.
They had all seen the boy's terrifying talent. But Owen's true gift wasn't Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, or Herbology. It was his magical growth rate.
At nine years old, his magical reserves were already more than double that of an average adult wizard. And it showed no signs of stopping. If he kept growing like this until he came of age at seventeen, a magical outburst then wouldn't just damage the castle—it might erase Hogwarts from the map.
Because he had completely drained his magic, the boy needed rest. Luckily, his room was just a few steps away.
Lying in bed, Owen looked at the white phoenix resting by his head. He didn't know what to say.
It was a Patronus summoned by magic, but it was also a physical entity. The coolest part wasn't its solidity, but the magical bond they shared.
If he wanted, the magic inside the white phoenix would flow back into him. Or he could pour his magic into it.
He could even transfer his consciousness into the bird, controlling its movements and seeing through its eyes. But the moment he withdrew his mind, it became an independent individual again—one that relied on him deeply.
Magic was incredible. And really, really fun.
The feeling of magical exhaustion was unpleasant, but Owen enjoyed the deep, physical tiredness. It allowed him to fall into a heavy sleep without needing a charm.
He hadn't dreamed in a long time. Maybe tonight he would see the people he missed...
---
The next day, Owen slept in. He didn't wake up until just before lunch.
He was sure he had a long dream, but he couldn't remember what it was about.
That feeling was nice.
The feeling of his magic returning wasn't bad either. Although a single night wasn't enough to fully recharge his reserves, he had enough to use his "Aerostatic Flight" technique to skate across the floor.
The professors and the few students who stayed for the holidays smiled as they watched Owen zoom by. But the surprises weren't over. Professor McGonagall announced she was taking him to Diagon Alley after lunch.
Owen wasn't big on shopping, but after being cooped up in the castle for so long, he was happy to get out.
"Lunch today is amazing!"
The house-elves were getting better and better. Steak with rice, paired with a spicy, shredded tripe salad. It was perfect. Owen devoured three bowls of rice.
Once, many people envied Owen for having a special menu. But after seeing his food combinations a few times, that envy vanished.
Not everyone could handle that kind of culinary chaos.