During the holidays, the castle held no students, but the professors remained. With Dumbledore making the introductions, Owen met several of them: academics who apparently possessed no personal time whatsoever.
Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House and Transfiguration professor, carried herself with severe elegance. Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin and Potions master, radiated a gloomy intensity. Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff and Herbology instructor, exuded warmth. Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw and Charms master, was a small wizard of goblin ancestry with a cheerful disposition; standing on his chair, he met eight-year-old Owen at eye level. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds, was half-giant with a fierce face but strikingly clear eyes. Rolanda Hooch, the Flying instructor, dressed and carried herself like a woman who preferred blunt honesty. Madam Irma Pince, the librarian, was a witch of stern disposition.
Their reactions upon meeting Owen varied, particularly given that Dumbledore had brought him in from the outside world. Yet when Dumbledore explained the circumstances, the expressions of the Heads and professors grew rather peculiar.
Magic was a matter of talent. A single magical outburst covering such an unprecedented range pointed to extraordinary raw potential. Better still, the boy had not yet reached school age; he could be taken on as an apprentice.
There was a world of difference between a student and an apprentice.
What troubled them was whether Dumbledore had the same intention. For if anyone could take on a wizard who had conjured a phoenix from raw magic, they couldn't imagine why Dumbledore would pass up the chance.
"Dear boy, I believe I could instruct you in Transfiguration."
No one expected McGonagall to move first. Flitwick grew frantic, hopping onto his chair and fixing Owen with gleaming eyes. "You must be a brave young wizard. Would you like to become a dueling champion, as I once was?"
Even the portly Professor Sprout could not remain seated. She was closest to Owen, so she took his hand. "I could teach you how to commune with nature, and to distinguish yourself in Herbology."
Good heavens, each of them...
Dumbledore was somewhat dumbfounded. He had believed his hints were obvious, yet he had underestimated their shamelessness. Just as he prepared to speak, a sweep of black cloak blocked him entirely. Snape stood there with an icy expression, his voice carrying an unmistakable edge.
"Unless I see evidence of talent for Potions, I will not accept you as my apprentice."
Owen opened his mouth to respond, but Dumbledore finally squeezed past. "Everyone, please, contain your enthusiasm. Mr Owen has only just entered our world. He has much to learn. I believe we should allow him to study the basics first."
Truthfully, Dumbledore wasn't sure himself what Owen was actually good at. If the boy simply had vast raw power, then two subjects suited him best: Charms and Transfiguration.
Until the child's talents revealed themselves, Dumbledore decided to wait. But showing the boy Fawkes in his office was a necessity.
When Owen finally lay in bed that night, for once he was asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.
Too much had happened, all of it complicated, too vast to take in at once. He needed rest, and time to sort through it.
He had transmigrated. After saving someone, he had brought himself here in the process.
The original boy had indeed perished from the magical outburst, possessed of vast innate magic that his soul could not sustain. That was how Owen had gained his opportunity.
This was a world of magic. He had the chance to become part of it.
So his priority was clear: study furiously, desperately, mastering as much power as possible. When crisis came, he needed the strength to protect himself, and those he cared about, though he hadn't met them yet.
As for the white phoenix, he barely gave it thought. Merely an anomaly.
"Sir, I require books, parchment, quills, and notebooks for recording questions."
After visiting the Hogwarts library, Owen appeared once more in the Headmaster's office.
"I will cover these expenses myself. I will repay you."
Dumbledore laughed heartily. "That is quite unnec..."
He never finished. A flash of red light, and Fawkes appeared atop the young wizard's head. The phoenix was not heavy, but Owen's frame was weak. The weight drove him face-first to the floor.
"Ha! It seems Fawkes has taken a liking to you, Mr Owen. You should visit more often. Keep him company."
Owen pushed himself up and, with some effort, lifted the phoenix from his head and placed him on the desk. He looked into the bird's intelligent eyes and nodded.
"Of course. But I hope, until my health improves, you might refrain from perching on my head. Is that acceptable?"
Fawkes nodded, then stretched his neck to rub his head against Owen's cheek in apology.
"No, that is not your fault. It is mine. I need so much now. A strong body. A mind full of knowledge. Fortunately, I can pursue both simultaneously. It should not take long."
He was talking to Fawkes. Though they did not share a language, the boy and the phoenix understood one another perfectly.
Even having witnessed it the previous night, Dumbledore still found himself marvelling at it.
But that was good.
He wasn't old enough to have a wand yet, which mattered little to Owen; he had no use for one at the moment. He needed to understand this world first. But the world was vast, so he would begin with the school's history.
Hogwarts: A History.
Owen read the entire volume in one day. He set it down looking dissatisfied.
Were the authors of the wizarding world too pragmatic? It claimed to be a history, yet it was merely a single thread, full of gaps and silences.
So, with Madam Pince's assistance, he borrowed The History of Magic, that massive tome. After only half a day, he was forced to begin taking notes.
The book was chaos. Events from the same year were scattered across different sections. Owen found this intolerable. He resolved to organize magical history chronologically.
This was no easy task. Owen spent an entire week in the library, eating and sleeping there, reading and recording constantly.
"I knew it! That child is a Ravenclaw born!"
Filius Flitwick was overjoyed. He looked around at his colleagues, his expression triumphant.
"I disagree, Filius. Owen has only just encountered magic. He does not yet know where his heart lies."
Professor McGonagall was not worried. She was convinced that once the boy witnessed the wonders of Transfiguration, he would come to her.
Snape said nothing. He swept away in his cloak, determined to find his old notebooks and deliver them to the boy, to show him early on just how magnificent Potions could be.
Professor Sprout also left, intent on finding a plant from the greenhouses to bring the boy as a gift.
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