Howlers don't just inflict psychological damage; they often come with a side of physical destruction. It took Owen quite a while to help tidy up the chaotic mess of the Headmaster's office.
"Scourgify" x10
"Tergeo" x15
At the entrance of his own common room, Owen cast cleaning charms on himself until he was spotless. He entered his room, scanned for Molly, and not finding her, changed into his pajamas. He laid down on his large bed and shifted his consciousness.
What the heck? Why is it furry under my foot?
Looking down, he chuckled. Sure enough, Molly had gone to pick a fight with Whitey again. The key point was that she hadn't won. Before Owen even arrived, she had been pinned under Whitey's claw.
Lifting his foot (or rather, Whitey's claw) to release the big cat, Owen scolded her, "How many times have I told you? You can't beat Whitey. Why do you insist on getting beat up?"
The big cat, who had been sulking just moments before, was now overflowing with affection. She meowed incessantly, her message simple: The Little Wizard was able to reclaim this body all because I suppressed the Bad Bird!
Owen didn't know how to explain the nuances of magical consciousness transfer to a cat. He simply told her not to play too wild in the Forbidden Forest, try not to be seen, and come back for food when hungry. Then, he shifted his consciousness back.
Just as Molly was preparing to snuggle up again, Whitey raised his claw and pinned the big cat down once more. He wouldn't go too far. Under normal circumstances, he'd only step on her for two hours...
---
The appearance of a troll in the castle caused only a minor ripple of panic. But the news that Owen had blasted half the troll's body into oblivion with a single Expelliarmus caused a sensation throughout Hogwarts.
It was a very common spell. Its primary function was to disarm an opponent. Used skillfully, it could even send the opponent's wand flying into your hand.
But...
No one had ever vaporized half a troll with a single Disarming Charm!
Even Dumbledore hadn't seen such a thing. That was why, while they were cleaning up his office last night, he had asked about it. Owen's answer left him both delighted and worried.
"It was nothing, really. I just compressed the magic a bit, Headmaster. You know trolls have high magic resistance. If I didn't compress it, the spell might not have worked at all. Of course, I didn't expect the troll to be that fragile... By the way, the school won't make me pay for it, right?"
What could Dumbledore say to that? Scold the boy for his spell being too powerful?
Now that he was back from his trip, Owen suddenly had a lot of free time. The professors hadn't assigned him back to teaching those introductory classes, so his schedule opened up considerably. He didn't waste it. He returned to the library, sitting right next to Madam Pince, quietly reading.
During the holidays, Owen would have chosen an empty desk. But right now, the quietest place in the library was undoubtedly next to the librarian.
Madam Pince wore a rare smile. When she spoke to students borrowing or returning books, her voice was noticeably lower and gentler.
No one was stupid.
Everyone instinctively lowered their voices, afraid to disturb the young wizard reading nearby.
No, wait. Not everyone. In a place as big as Hogwarts, there's always an exception.
"WHAT?!!"
A shout pierced the quiet library, causing even the usually composed Owen to jump. Madam Pince stood up, smoothed the wrinkles in her robes from sitting too long, grabbed her feather duster, and charged. Her speed rivaled a martial arts master—she practically left afterimages.
Ron, Hermione, and Harry were chased out of the library by a furious Madam Pince.
In Madam Pince's eyes, being the "Savior" meant nothing. Even if Voldemort himself dared to shout in her library, she'd whip him with that feather duster until he cried!
After that disturbance, Owen couldn't focus on his book anymore. He returned the books to their shelves, walked around to tidy up some volumes left behind by careless students, and then left the library. He had only taken a few steps when he heard Ron's voice again.
"There's definitely something wrong with that professor!"
Owen paused, then smiled. Professor Quirrell, look at what you've done. Even a brainless wizard like Ron can tell something's off about you. Where do you get the confidence to stay in the castle?
But just then, Ron continued, "Snape definitely has a problem. We should tell Dumbledore!"
I...
Owen nearly threw his back out.
Wait, so you three suspect Snape, not Quirrell?
Well, I guess since they're first-years, they never saw Quirrell before his... transformation. So the contrast isn't obvious. As for Professor Snape... his style really does attract hatred like a magnet.
"Did you notice? That day in the dungeons, I saw it with my own eyes—Snape's leg was injured. And he didn't arrive with the other professors; he showed up later. Do you think... maybe he was bitten by that three-headed dog?"
Owen froze for a moment, then turned and walked away. A short while later, he arrived on the fourth floor, stopped in front of a very conspicuous door, and pushed it open.
"Woof?"
"Woof!"
"Woo~ Woof woof!"
Three giant dog heads looked at the young wizard pushing open the door and immediately put on friendly expressions. Their tail wagged so hard it looked like an electric fan.
Fluffy, one of Hagrid's pets, was an old acquaintance. Back when Fluffy was only the size of a normal dog, Owen had helped Hagrid feed him for a while.
"Hmm..."
"Scourgify" x6
"Tergeo" x12
"Alright, stop shaking. Come here, sit. Open wide. That's it. Aguamenti..."
After cleaning the room, removing the smell, giving the dog a bath, brushing its teeth, and drying it off, Owen finally sat down next to them. He made sure to pet each head equally—fairness is key.
The big dog knew exactly what the young wizard liked. It lay down and curled its tail around to form a seat. Owen sat on the tail, leaned back against the dog's massive body, and began to chat quietly.
Upon confirming that Professor Snape had indeed visited and been bitten, Owen sighed. "Don't be so aggressive next time. Just putting on a show is enough. No one expects you to actually guard this place forever. So, you have to let people through eventually, got it? In the future, when you hear music, even if you don't want to sleep, just pretend to sleep."
"Woof!"
"Woof woof!"
"Woo!"
"Alright. Once this is all over, you'll definitely go back to the Forbidden Forest. I'll come play with you then. Remember to be good!"
The three heads nudged him again. After petting each one a final time, the young wizard left. As for the next floor down... he had no intention of checking it out. That was all arranged by the professors. It wouldn't be good if he accidentally broke their setup.
The holidays were approaching, and Christmas was just around the corner. While other students were busy with their studies, Owen was busy making gifts.
Handmade gifts best show the giver's sincerity.
Of course, it was also a convenient way to level up his alchemy skills.
There were plenty of empty rooms on the eighth floor. Owen chose one far from his bedroom to serve as his alchemy lab. That way, if he accidentally blew it up, he wouldn't lose his place to sleep.
This time, he wasn't making glasses. He planned to make a brand-new set of robes for each professor. He wanted them to experience true high fashion!
Magic is interesting, but the wizarding world itself can be dull—especially when it comes to fashion, which constantly challenges Owen's nerves.
So, Owen preferred his "outdated" aristocratic style over the chaotic mix-and-match fashion currently popular among wizards.
Owen designed the robes himself and ordered the base garments from Twilfitt and Tattings. His task was to embroider runic patterns hidden within the fabric, using those patterns to achieve various magical effects.
His approach was novel. After sending out letters asking for advice, he received replies from many experts offering different perspectives.
This led to an interesting scene in the Great Hall: most students were surrounded by owls dropping mail, but around Owen and his table, not a single feather could be found. He used other means.
Master Nicolas Flamel's letter gave him confidence. Master Newt's letter broadened his horizons. But the old Dark Lord's letter made the corner of Owen's mouth twitch.
He certainly didn't dare embroider Fiendfyre runes onto clothing. One mistake with that, and he'd incinerate himself along with the robes...
But Grindelwald did offer another idea: Finite Incantatem.
The General Counter-Spell can interrupt forming magic. Finite is a high-level spell capable of extinguishing even Fiendfyre, but it has a drawback: its range is limited to the caster's magical control. Normally, it requires multiple wizards casting together to cover a large area.
However, group casting requires magical resonance and tacit cooperation.
If he could embroider the corresponding runes onto the clothes using alchemy, then simply inputting magic could automatically trigger Finite Incantatem...
Of course, a robe couldn't have just one spell. Defensive charms like Protego were also necessary.
Time flew by. When the first snow fell, the world outside Hogwarts turned white.
By this time, Owen had rotated to Hufflepuff. When he sat in the common room, he couldn't read because a stream of young badgers would approach him with their notebooks. Owen would put down his book and help answer their questions. It was a form of review for him, too.
Actually, he didn't need to be in the common room at all. After dinner, he could have retreated to his room to rest or do other things.
But that would have isolated him. So, regardless of which House he was in, he made it a point to sit in the common room after dinner. If someone asked a question, he taught. If no one bothered him, he read. He stayed until curfew, then returned to his room.
And even if he stayed past curfew, he had nothing to fear. Filch actually hoped to catch Owen out late because then Owen would patrol the castle with him.
Filch might not be able to catch the elusive night-wandering students on his own, but with Owen there, the mischievous little troublemakers had nowhere to run.
At Owen's suggestion, the caught students weren't sent to the professors. Instead, they were forced to patrol with Filch. They were only released once they personally caught the next student. Otherwise, they spent two hours patrolling every night.