September 1, 1991. Weather: Sunny.
Last night, Owen was so excited he couldn't fall asleep on his own. He ended up casting Somnulus on himself to drop into a deep, dreamless slumber. This morning, it took his botanical alarm clock—Milov the Devil's Snare—a full ten minutes to wake him up.
"Ugh, having a wand really gives that spell a kick. I should remember not to use a wand for that next time. Thanks, Milov."
A tendril gently brushed Owen's face and handed him a towel. Owen took it and went to wash up. A short while later, looking neat and tidy, the young wizard walked out of the house empty-handed. Of course, all his magical belongings were stashed safely in his pocket.
Master Newt's talents weren't limited to magical creatures. He was also a genius with the Undetectable Extension Charm and Atmospheric Charms...
Otherwise, that suitcase of his wouldn't be so famous.
Although Owen had only studied under Newt for three months, he had grasped the basics of the Extension Charm. The small pouch in his pocket was now the size of two classrooms—half for books, half for miscellaneous supplies.
Meow!
"Of course, Molly. We're going to take the Hogwarts Express just like all the other students. Trust me, you'll love it there. I'll introduce you to Mrs. Norris."
Meow meow!
"Mrs. Norris isn't a Wampus Cat, but she has Kneazle blood. She's a veteran of Hogwarts; if you have any questions, asking her is the right move."
Mrrow!
Molly was no longer the tiny fluff-ball she was two months ago. She was too big to hide in his robes now—already slightly larger than Mrs. Norris—so Owen carried her in his arms.
Today, Owen was dressed in Muggle clothing, a stylish British outfit sent by Professor McGonagall that gave him a slightly aristocratic air. Once he got to school, he'd just throw his wizard robes over it. Very convenient.
However, his magic suppressors were harder to hide, especially the one on his head.
These were crafted by Master Nicolas Flamel. The material used was gold—ironically the least valuable component of the set. There were six pieces in total: a headband, two wristbands, two anklets, and a belt.
To the uninitiated, they would first notice the boy's handsome features and elegant demeanor. But then, their eyes would inevitably be drawn to his head because that headband was... excessively flashy.
Gold base, set with three rubies and three sapphires, each the size of a pigeon egg. It made the young wizard look like a prince wandering among the common folk.
Owen had originally wanted to use crystals, but Master Flamel refused. Crystals offer far less magical resistance than gemstones; some crystals even amplify magic.
This was a magic suppressor, not a magic amplifier.
"In the eyes of an alchemist, there is no expensive or cheap, only suitable or unsuitable. My dear boy, you must get used to this."
Owen took Master Flamel's words to heart, so here he was, looking like royalty. He hadn't learned any invisibility spells yet, and he couldn't find any in his books, so he just had to deal with it. Maybe once he got to school, he could check the library for a concealment charm.
While the six gold-and-gem suppressors might not be worth a fortune in the grand scheme of alchemy, there was one item on him that was truly priceless. The stone set in his belt wasn't a gem. It was the Philosopher's Stone.
Only the Philosopher's Stone could serve as the central hub connecting all six suppressors into a unified system capable of controlling his wildly growing magic.
If anyone found out, half the wizarding world would probably go insane. It wouldn't be surprising if people did desperate things to get it.
Wizards don't get sick often, but they still die of old age. And the Philosopher's Stone is the only known key to extending that deadline indefinitely.
He had to hide it well.
---
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Basically, the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Owen took a deep breath, rubbed his forehead just in case, clutched Molly tightly, and ran straight at the brick wall.
Seeing the red steam engine on the other side, Owen finally breathed a sigh of relief. He had arrived a bit early, and with no one to guide him, he was worried he might have counted the pillars wrong... which would have resulted in a very nasty bump on the head.
The train was scheduled to leave at eleven, but it was only just past eight. Owen boarded, found an empty compartment, and settled in to read. It wasn't until someone slid the door open that he snapped back to reality.
"Um... hello. Is it okay if I sit here?"
Looking at the round-faced boy, Owen smiled warmly. "Of course. Please, come in."
The boy let out a long sigh of relief and dragged his trunk into the compartment. With Owen's help, they hoisted it onto the luggage rack.
"Thanks a lot. I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom."
"No problem. I'm Owen. Owen Corlett."
They smiled at each other. Owen put his book aside and pulled some snacks from his pocket. "Neville, nice to meet you. These are chocolate treats from the Muggle world I brought from home. Want to try one?"
Neville was shy, but Owen's approachable nature and gentle tone helped him relax. Just as they were chatting and laughing, the compartment door slid open again, and a young witch with bushy brown hair burst in.
"Owen!"
Hermione was beaming. "Oh my gosh, I didn't expect to find you here!"
"Long time no see, Hermione. Come in, have a seat."
Owen waved his hand, and Hermione's luggage flew up onto the rack by itself. Neville stared, dumbfounded, but Hermione didn't blink an eye. "Wow, is your Levitation Charm that practiced already? I spent the whole summer vacation memorizing books, and the only spell I managed to get working was Reparo."
The young witch was as energetic as ever. After Owen pulled her down to sit next to him, he gestured to the seat across. "This is Mr. Neville Longbottom. Neville, this is Miss Hermione Granger."
Neville blushed and mumbled a greeting. Hermione waved enthusiastically. "Hi Neville! Are you a first-year too?"
"Yes."
"Are you a pure-blood?"
"Y-yes."
"Oh wow, then you must know—Mmph!"
Owen reached out and clamped his hand over the girl's mouth. Under her surprised gaze, he chuckled lightly. "Whether they are pure-bloods or not, young wizards aren't allowed to own wands before they turn eleven. That means even if their parents are wizards, they don't teach their children any magic beforehand."
Hermione paused, then muffled out a reply as Owen let go. "Even so, they could still study the textbooks way in advance."
Owen spread his hands. "That happens very rarely, Hermione. Not everyone loves studying as much as you do. Neville, Hermione is incredibly gifted when it comes to learning methods. If you ever have trouble with your studies, she's the right person to ask!"
Now it was Hermione's turn to blush. "No, no, no. You're way better than me."
"No, you're much more suitable. You don't just know how to learn; you know how to teach. Besides, I'm not sure if I'll even be in the same classes as you guys."
Owen wasn't boasting. He genuinely didn't know. But one thing was certain: he wouldn't be starting from the first-year curriculum. He had finished that ages ago.