At 4:00 AM, three green vines slithered out from the corner. One gently pulled back the young wizard's blanket. Another curled around the clean clothes the house-elves had prepared, bringing them to the bedside. The third gently tapped the boy on the arm to wake him.
The young wizard woke instantly. Six hours of deep, magical sleep had wiped away yesterday's fatigue, leaving him fully charged for the new day.
"Thanks, Milov."
The vine lightly brushed against Owen's cheek before retracting back into the shadows.
Milov wasn't a person or an animal. It was a Devil's Snare plant given to him by Professor Sprout. Owen had raised it in his room since it was a seedling. Whenever he had free time, he would talk to it, and he even gave it a name.
Maybe because it had a name, Milov was different from other Devil's Snares. It still hated sunlight, but it wasn't aggressive. It was affectionate toward Owen and showed no hostility toward any living thing that Owen liked.
Most importantly, it was punctual. Every morning, it served as the young wizard's personal alarm clock.
Owen washed up, brushed his teeth, and put on his clothes, which smelled faintly of jasmine. He smiled. "Thank you, Lia."
Crack!
A house-elf appeared, beaming at Owen. "It is Lia's honor to serve you, sir. Please, there is no need to thank me."
Owen walked over and gave the elf a gentle hug. "Only you remember that I like the scent of jasmine, Lia."
Lia excitedly wiped away tears. "You are the only wizard who remembers our names and celebrates our birthdays. Serving you is a privilege! Sir, would you like soy milk and fried dough sticks for breakfast again?"
"Of course. Mr. Bass makes them perfectly. I could eat them every day and never get tired of them."
Crack! The elf vanished. She couldn't wait to tell Bass about Owen's praise so they could share in the joy.
"Mr. Filch, Mrs. Norris. Good morning."
"Good morning, Mr. Owen."
"Meow!"
If it had been anyone else, Filch wouldn't have responded. He would have grabbed them by the ear and dragged them to a professor for detention.
At 4:00 AM, anyone out of bed besides Owen was definitely up to no good. But in Filch's mind, Owen was different from the other little delinquents.
Owen helped him clean the castle. Owen chased down pranksters with him. Owen reported troublemakers to the professors alongside him. And Owen was the only student willing to speak up for him in front of the staff and the Headmaster.
Naturally, Mrs. Norris liked the boy too.
"Good morning!"
Smack!
Passing the Black Lake, Owen greeted the Giant Squid as usual. It used to just wave a tentacle, but ever since it saw Owen high-fiving the Whomping Willow, it had upgraded its greeting to a high-five as well.
"Good morning!"
Smack!
The Whomping Willow never missed a morning greeting either.
"Good morning!"
Woof!
Fang was, predictably, woken up by Hagrid's snoring. Otherwise, there was no way the dog would be up this early.
Time moved forward, but at Hogwarts, it often felt like time stood still. There were constants here—people and things that never changed—that gave you a sense of peace.
Just a simple morning run, but today, something felt different for the young wizard. When he met each professor, he gave them a hug and, ignoring their surprised expressions, sincerely said, "Thank you."
When he finally hugged Dumbledore, the old man laughed while wiping a tear from his eye. He could feel it. The boy had finally, truly, integrated into Hogwarts. He had found his place in the wizarding world.
Before, Owen had worked hard, but that effort was driven by fear. He had been like a startled deer dropped into a strange forest, sensing danger everywhere and struggling to survive.
Dumbledore understood that and hadn't interfered. A sense of security isn't something others can give you; you have to find it yourself.
Now, the boy had changed. Deep in his eyes, the anxiety and unease were gone, replaced by a calm stillness.
Of course, with this peace came a new headache: the boy's magic had surged again.
Dumbledore didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse. But one thing was certain—teaching the boy high-consumption spells had to be moved up the agenda.
So, what kind of magic drains a lot of power, takes a long time to cast, but doesn't negatively affect a growing child?
When Dumbledore presented his decision, the staff were not happy.
"Isn't it too soon?" Professor McGonagall argued. She felt that introducing the Patronus Charm now was rushing things. Owen was just a child; learning such advanced magic seemed like too much pressure.
"Do you think he has some dark secret that needs protecting? Is he hiding his pitifully small amount of knowledge?"
When Snape heard they were going to teach the boy Occlumency and Legilimency, he looked at Dumbledore as if the Headmaster had been replaced by an imposter. If Dumbledore hadn't immediately shoveled a large spoon of sherbet lemon into his mouth... Snape might have cast Sectumsempra.
"I don't like it either, but..." Dumbledore sighed. "If we don't find a way to drain his magic significantly, I'm afraid that soon even I won't be able to contain it."
The room went silent. Then, everyone sighed in unison. In all their years, this was the first time they were distressed because a student had too much magic. That was a new one.
Since there was no precedent, they had to trust Dumbledore's judgment. He was the oldest, had lived the longest, and seen the most. His solution was likely the only one that would work.
Regardless of the reasoning, Owen was thrilled to hear he would be learning powerful new magic. But the new spells were genuinely difficult.
Occlumency and Legilimency were manageable, but the Patronus Charm was a different beast. It required a happy memory—not just a pleasant one, but a powerful, overwhelming joy. That... was hard.
Owen wasn't a normal child. He had happy memories, sure. But whenever he recalled them, they were immediately followed by an endless wave of grief. The happier the memory, the deeper the sorrow.
There was no shortcut; he just had to overcome it. Thankfully, there was no rush.
As the saying goes, comparison is the thief of joy.
The professors were stressed about Owen's ever-growing power. But then they would turn around and see other students causing accidents because their magic was too weak or unstable. It put them in a foul mood.
Snape became even stricter. McGonagall stopped smiling. Flitwick started criticizing students. Even the usually gentle Professor Sprout began deducting points.
For the students of Hogwarts, it felt like the sky was falling.