New students from Muggle families usually enter Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron because, naturally, their homes aren't connected to the Floo Network.
But Professor McGonagall and Owen didn't need to go through all that hassle. They traveled straight from the Headmaster's fireplace to Diagon Alley. It was fast, efficient, and the only downside was the layer of soot covering their clothes upon arrival.
"Scourgify."
With a flick of his wrist, the young wizard vanished the soot from both his and Professor McGonagall's robes.
"Excellent!" McGonagall looked stern, but she was never stingy with praise. "Especially the wandless casting. Have you completely mastered the technique now?"
"Not yet, Professor..." Owen blushed slightly. "For complex spells, I can't guarantee a hundred percent success rate yet. But I think I'll have it down by the time school starts."
McGonagall's mouth twitched. "There's no need to rush so much. Now... let's head to Twilfitt and Tattings first!"
At first, Owen thought McGonagall was picking up an order for herself. It wasn't until they were about to walk through the door that he realized she intended to order custom robes for him.
The young wizard's expression changed instantly. He grabbed McGonagall's arm and dragged her into a nearby second-hand shop instead. He quickly picked out a used robe that fit reasonably well.
Watching him clutch the worn robe while waiting for her to pay, McGonagall felt a tug at her heartstrings. She knew why he wouldn't spend her money—he didn't want to feel indebted. But...
"Child, I think the lesson you need to learn right now is how to accept kindness from others. That, too, is a skill."
"Professor, kindness isn't measured by price tags. I think this is perfectly fine."
The young wizard's bright, innocent smile shattered the witch's last line of defense. She forcefully dragged him out of the second-hand shop and marched him straight into Twilfitt and Tattings, where she ordered several sets of high-quality robes. Then, she dragged him to Madam Malkin's and ordered four sets of school uniforms.
One for each of the four Houses.
Owen was confused. "Professor, isn't this... a bit wasteful?"
"No. Dumbledore and I have discussed it. After the term starts, you will spend two weeks in each House. Starting with..."
McGonagall shook out the green-trimmed robe in her hand. "Slytherin."
The boy was too independent. He had spent half a year at Hogwarts without making a single friend. That wouldn't do. The professors surmised that because he hadn't been Sorted, he lacked a sense of belonging, and the other students didn't see him as one of their own.
So, they came up with the idea of rotating him through all four Houses.
But today, McGonagall wasn't just here for clothes.
"A broomstick?" Resistance flickered across the young wizard's face. "I can already fly. Why do I need to ride a broom?"
"It's different. At the very least, you can't play Quidditch without one."
Owen laughed. "Professor, I'm too young for flying lessons, let alone Quidditch. By the time I'm old enough to play, whatever broom we buy today will be obsolete. There's really no need to waste the money."
Alright, fair point.
McGonagall patted the boy's head. "You always make me forget your age. Since you reminded me, I suppose we should go get something that makes you happy."
"But Professor, I'd rather..."
Following his gaze, McGonagall saw the sign for Flourish and Blotts. She shook her head firmly. "No, you wouldn't!"
With that, she dragged the protesting wizard toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.
Dumbledore was right. Owen was too young. They couldn't respect his wishes all the time; they needed to guide him—not just in magic, but in all aspects of life.
So, McGonagall decided to be uncharacteristically pushy. She ordered a massive spread of ice cream flavors, lined them up in front of him, and waved her hand grandly. "All yours!"
If I eat all of this, I'm going to get sick, right?
But looking at McGonagall's proud expression, Owen gritted his teeth and started eating. One scoop after another, he polished off every single flavor. By the time they returned to Hogwarts, he felt like his soul hadn't quite caught up with his body.
Eating over a dozen scoops of ice cream in the middle of winter without getting sick...
Thank you, body.
Thank you for being stronger in this life than the last!
---
The holidays ended, and the students returned to the castle. The Slytherins immediately noticed an addition to their ranks.
Owen, wearing green-trimmed robes, sat at the Slytherin table. He was currently eating a steak sandwich made with a steamed bun while using chopsticks to pick at a side of shredded potatoes.
The entire Slytherin table was dead silent. No one dared to comment, but everyone was stealing glances. Honestly, the food looked delicious, and some wanted to try eating that way, but nobody had the nerve to break the tension.
After finishing his meal, Owen didn't reach for dessert. He wasn't big on sweets. But because he didn't move, the young snakes suddenly didn't know if they were allowed to move. Some had even put desserts on their plates, only to slowly put them back.
"Don't mind me, everyone. Please, eat. Once I have some free time in a few days, I'll teach the house-elves some new dessert recipes. I think you'll like them even better."
With permission granted, the dessert-loving snakes finally relaxed and started eating.
"Ah~ what a lovely scene of camaraderie. Severus, sending Owen to Slytherin was the right decision!"
Snape's mouth twitched. He ignored Dumbledore completely. Old fool, get your eyes checked. That wasn't camaraderie. Even from the High Table, he could smell the mood at the Slytherin table. It smelled like fear.
The snakes were terrified of Owen. During the last term, the few times Owen had used magic offensively, his targets had always been Slytherins.
And now, this terrifying anomaly was wearing their robes. If he decided to attack them now, it would be an "internal House matter." They wouldn't even be able to find anyone to complain to. Just last term, everyone had witnessed Professor Snape personally dusting off Owen's robes with his own hands.
With his hands! Not magic!
From first years to seventh years, which Slytherin had ever received that kind of treatment from Professor Snape?
"Is everyone finished?" Owen waited until the last person put down their fork before standing up with a smile. "Then let's head back to the common room. I have a few things I'd like to say to everyone."
Whoosh. The entire Slytherin table stood up in unison. Without waiting for the prefects, they automatically formed a line and marched toward the dungeons. Owen calmly fell in at the very back of the procession.
The students from the other three Houses stared, bewildered. The Slytherins were behaving... very strangely today.