Days turned into weeks. After over ten days of morning training, the young witch finally understood some of the unspoken rules. For example, absolutely do not copy Owen and try to high-five the Whomping Willow. Because while the tree happily high-fived Owen, anyone else who tried to get close ended up suspended upside down by their ankles.
"Miss Granger..."
Owen stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the dangling witch. There wasn't a trace of mockery in his smile, only gentle advice. "Next time, don't do that. Mr. Willow, could you put her down, please? Trust me, she means no harm. She just wanted to be friends with you, like me."
Miraculously, the Whomping Willow actually lowered Hermione to the ground. Then, using a tender twig, it straightened Owen's slightly messy clothes before gently brushing across his cheek.
Owen beamed. "Thank you for being so thoughtful."
Hermione resumed her morning run, but this time with a distinct pout. "Everyone says you're popular in the castle, but from what I can see, as long as it's Hogwarts, the whole place is your friend."
Owen chuckled. "That's not true. The Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest and the centaurs don't like me at all."
He didn't really care about that, though. Back when he needed Acromantula venom for a potion, he had politely asked for some. They refused, terrified. So Owen had to take it himself. As the Acromantula population grew, naturally, the amount of venom he harvested grew too.
As for the centaurs, that was just baffling. He hadn't even met them properly. He was just gathering herbs when they fired arrows at him as a warning.
If you shoot an arrow at someone, you should expect a spell in return, right? That's just basic etiquette.
Why did they get upset when he fired a Fiendfyre curse back after they shot at him?
Owen concluded that centaurs were just petty. If they didn't like him, fine. He didn't like them either!
Classes, breaks, meals. The routine continued.
During lunch, Harry and Ron actually sought him out. Ron looked awkward, while Harry wore an expression of pure worry. "Owen, we need your help. I figured out what Snape is after. It's the Philosopher's Stone!"
The Philosopher's Stone?
Owen unconsciously touched his stomach, then frowned at the two boys. "Professor Snape wants the Philosopher's Stone? Do you know why he wants it?"
"To turn things into gold, obviously!" Ron declared confidently. "He must want to amass wealth to help You-Know-Who return to power!"
Owen laughed. "You know what Felix Felicis is, right? Liquid Luck. There are fewer than twenty people in the world who can brew it, and fewer than five in Britain. Professor Snape is one of them. If he really wanted money, he wouldn't need a Philosopher's Stone. Also, do you have any idea how much the ingredients you waste in Potions class cost? Snape manages all of that. Has he ever asked you for a single Knut in compensation? So, doing it for money... that theory doesn't hold water with me."
Suspecting a Potions Master of being short on cash was insulting his professional capabilities. If Snape heard this, Ron would probably have to drop out just to escape his wrath.
"Then could it be for immortality?" Harry chimed in. "Doesn't the Philosopher's Stone make the Elixir of Life?"
"Mr. Potter..." Owen set down his cutlery. "Your phrasing is slightly off. The Stone doesn't create an 'Elixir of Immortality'; it creates an elixir that extends life. I studied with Master Nicolas Flamel for a time, and I can tell you responsibly: the elixir adds years to your life, but it doesn't stop you from aging..."
Thinking of Nicolas Flamel's ancient appearance, Owen missed the old man. He wondered how he was doing. Had he invented anything new and exciting?
Maybe he should visit all those old wizards this summer... They were practically empty-nesters now; they needed love too.
Seeing they couldn't convince Owen, Harry and Ron left. But they hadn't given up. They decided to use their own strength to protect the Stone and prevent Snape from getting it.
Hermione didn't follow them immediately. If she set aside friendship and looked at things rationally, she could see plenty of holes in their theory.
Why is the Philosopher's Stone at school?
It had been safe with Master Flamel for centuries without being stolen. What, suddenly this year it wasn't safe anymore?
What is Snape's status at the school?
He was a Potions Master, a professor, and Head of Slytherin House. If he didn't have Dumbledore's trust, he wouldn't be in that position.
Then there was the start-of-term speech. Dumbledore specifically mentioned the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side was out of bounds to everyone who did not wish to die a very painful death, but he didn't say what the danger was. That didn't fit the Headmaster's style.
Of course, now they knew: a three-headed dog was guarding the Stone on the third floor...
But what bothered Hermione was this: Gryffindor had so many "brave" wizards. Take Ron's twin brothers, for instance. Why hadn't they gone to the third floor yet?
Was it that they didn't want to, or that they couldn't?
Hermione had quietly asked around. Aside from the three of them who had seen it with their own eyes, no one else knew about the three-headed dog.
This wasn't normal!
In terms of magical ability, even with all her confidence, she had to admit the upper-year students were far superior.
The more she thought about it, the more confused she became. Finally, instinct led her to find Owen, hoping for an answer.
Owen didn't say anything. He just handed her a small trowel...
At first, Hermione didn't understand. Until she, Harry, and Ron entered the third-floor corridor again and were cornered by the three-headed dog...
Fluffy had a keen nose. Just as he was about to roar for show, he suddenly smelled a familiar scent. He nudged the two boys aside and sniffed the young witch. Hermione, acting on instinct, pulled out the small trowel...
"Woof woof!"
"Woo~~ Woof!"
"Haha..."
The terrifying Cerberus instantly turned into a giant puppy. The middle head gently nudged Hermione's hand with its nose, then helpfully pawed open the trapdoor they were guarding, gesturing for them to go through.
Hermione was stunned.
Harry and Ron, however, breathed a massive sigh of relief. "Hermione, is that trowel some kind of artifact? Can it control Fluffy?"
"No, Owen gave it to me. I've seen him use it to dig up herbs..."
Owen again. Ron didn't want to discuss that name right now—it made him feel resentful and scared. "Alright, we need to hurry. We can't let Snape get the Stone."
With that, the three of them jumped down, one after another...
After they disappeared into the darkness, Dumbledore and Owen materialized in the room. The old man chuckled. "Ah, Gryffindor courage. No matter how many times I see it, it's always so stirring. Don't you think, Owen?"
Owen walked over to Fluffy, patted each of the three heads five times for fairness, and said with an unreadable expression, "Headmaster, I think it's necessary to scout before jumping into a dark hole. A simple Lumos would suffice. But they..."
Dumbledore laughed again. "That is courage!"
"But if there wasn't Devil's Snare down there, but Venomous Tentacula or some other carnivorous plant, wouldn't that courage just get them killed faster? Not everywhere is as safe and controlled as Hogwarts."
Forget other plants—if he swapped the Devil's Snare below with his own Milov, the young wizards wouldn't even have time to cast a spell before being strangled.
Dumbledore stopped laughing. "My dear boy, don't say things that make an old man sad. In the future, when you become Headmaster, you will understand my painstaking efforts. Come, let us continue."