Since it was summer break, there were no students at Hogwarts, but the professors were still around. Thanks to Dumbledore's introductions, Owen met several staff members who clearly had no personal lives.
There was Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor and Transfiguration professor—a witch with serious presence and class.
Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin and Potions master—a wizard with a dark, gloomy vibe.
Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff and Herbology professor—a gentle, warm-hearted witch.
Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw and Charms professor. He was a tiny, upbeat wizard with goblin ancestry. When he stood on a chair, he was about eye-level with eight-year-old Owen.
Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds. He was a half-giant with a ferocious face but eyes that were surprisingly kind and clear.
Rolanda Hooch, the flying instructor. Based on her outfit and expression, she seemed like a no-nonsense witch who liked to get things done efficiently.
And Madam Pince, the librarian—a witch who looked very stern.
When they first saw Owen, their reactions varied. After all, Dumbledore bringing home a random stray wasn't exactly new. But when the Headmaster explained why Owen was there, the expressions on the Heads of Houses and professors turned... peculiar.
Wizards value talent above all else. A single accidental magical outburst affecting such a massive area was unheard of. It proved this kid was a prodigy among prodigies. The best part? He wasn't even school age yet. That meant he could be taken on as a personal apprentice.
There is a huge difference between a student and an apprentice.
The only thing holding them back was Dumbledore. They suspected he might have the same idea. Just the fact that the boy could manifest a phoenix with raw magic made it hard to imagine Dumbledore passing up the opportunity.
"Dear, I believe I could mentor you in Transfiguration."
No one expected Minerva McGonagall to make the first move. Flitwick panicked, hopped onto a chair, and looked at Owen with shining eyes. "You must be a brave little wizard! Do you want to be a dueling champion like me?"
The plump Professor Sprout couldn't sit still either. Being closest to Owen, she grabbed his hand. "I can teach you how to connect with nature and make a name for yourself in Herbology."
Good grief, look at you all...
Dumbledore was a bit dumbfounded. He thought he'd dropped enough hints that the boy was his, but he clearly underestimated how low his colleagues were willing to stoop. Just as he was about to speak, a large black cloak swooshed in front of him, blocking his view completely.
Snape, wearing an icy expression, spoke in a tone that sounded suspiciously like a threat. "Until I see that you have talent for Potions, I will not accept you as my apprentice."
Owen opened his mouth to reply, but Dumbledore finally squeezed his way into the conversation. "Everyone, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Mr. Corlett has only just discovered he is a wizard. There is much he doesn't understand. I think it's best to let him focus on general studies first."
Truth be told, Dumbledore wasn't entirely sure where Owen's specific talents lay. If it was just raw power, then Charms or Transfiguration would be the natural fit.
Until he saw what the boy could actually do, Dumbledore decided to play it safe. Though, bringing the boy to his office to meet Fawkes was definitely on the agenda.
---
By the time Owen finally lay in bed that night, he was out like a light.
It had been a long day, packed with too much information to process. He needed rest, and he needed time to organize his thoughts.
He had transmigrated. Which meant that after saving someone in his previous life, he had died and been sent here.
The boy whose body he now inhabited had died from that massive magical outburst. He was born with immense power, but his soul wasn't strong enough to sustain the drain, creating the vacancy Owen now filled.
This was a magical world, and he had a chance to be a part of it.
So, what was the plan?
Study hard. Study like his life depended on it. Learn as much as possible and gain enough power to protect himself and anyone he cared about when the inevitable crises hit—even if he hadn't met those people yet.
As for the white phoenix thing? He didn't really care. It was just a visual effect, a phenomenon.
---
"Sir, I need books, paper, pens, and a notebook for recording questions."
After touring the Hogwarts library, Owen returned to the Headmaster's office. "I will cover the costs myself. I promise to pay you back."
Dumbledore laughed heartily. "There's absolutely no..."
Before he could finish, a flash of red light zipped through the air, and Fawkes landed squarely on the boy's head. The phoenix wasn't particularly heavy, but Owen was still physically weak. The sudden weight flattened him right onto the floor.
"Hahaha! It seems Fawkes has taken quite a liking to you, Mr. Corlett. I think you should visit more often to keep him company."
Owen picked himself up from the floor, struggling slightly to lift the bird off his head and place it back on its perch. He looked at the intelligent creature and nodded.
"Sure. But until I get a bit stronger, could you please avoid landing on my head?"
Fawkes nodded and stretched his neck, rubbing his head against Owen's cheek in apology.
"No, it's not your fault. It's mine. I just need a lot right now—a healthy body and a knowledgeable mind. Fortunately, I can work on both at the same time. It shouldn't take long."
Owen spoke directly to Fawkes. Despite the language barrier, the boy and the phoenix seemed to understand each other perfectly.
Even though Dumbledore had witnessed this connection the night before, seeing it again was still fascinating.
This was good. Very good.
Since he was underage, Owen didn't have a wand yet. That didn't bother him; he figured he didn't need one right now anyway. His priority was understanding this new world. And since the world was huge, he decided to start small—with the school's history.
Hogwarts: A History.
Owen finished the book in a single day at the library. When he closed it, he looked dissatisfied.
Are wizarding authors too pragmatic or just lazy?
It was called A History, and that's exactly what it was—just a slice. There were massive gaps in the timeline.
So, with Madam Pince's help, he borrowed a massive tome simply titled A History of Magic. He got through half a day of reading before he had to stop and start taking notes.
The book was a mess.
Events that happened in the same year were scattered all over the place. Owen couldn't stand it. He decided to reorganize magical history chronologically himself.
It wasn't an easy task. Owen spent a full week in the library, doing nothing but eating, sleeping, reading, and taking notes.
"I knew it! The boy is a natural Ravenclaw!"
Filius Flitwick was ecstatic. He looked up at his colleagues, practically glowing with pride.
"I disagree, Filius," McGonagall said calmly. "Owen has only just been introduced to magic. He doesn't know what he wants yet."
She wasn't worried. She was convinced that once the boy saw the wonders of Transfiguration, he'd come running to Gryffindor.
Snape didn't say a word. He swirled his cloak and stormed off. He had made a decision: he was going to dig up his old potion notes and give them to the brat. Let the boy see just how magnificent potion-making really was.
Professor Sprout also left. She headed for the greenhouses to find a special plant to gift the studious young wizard.