When Professor Sprout rushed into the greenhouse, she found her substitute instructor finishing up: running a final hygiene check. Owen was tidying up any missed spots to ensure the greenhouse was pristine for the next class.
Because the next class started in twenty minutes. And Owen would be attending that one too—but this time, as a student.
"My dear boy, are you alright?"
The plump Professor Sprout gave the young wizard a warm, motherly hug.
"I'm doing well, Professor."
"Let me take a look... Good heavens! Not a single point deducted? Are the first-years in this batch all Herbology prodigies?"
Owen smiled wryly. "Not exactly, Professor. At least, among this group, I saw only one true talent... Mr. Neville Longbottom. He is the only one who genuinely loves and cares for the plants."
"Longbottom..." Professor Sprout sighed. "Alright, I understand. So, what do you suggest?"
"Why not give him a Devil's Snare seedling, like you did for me?"
"That... well, while I don't think Mr. Longbottom shares your level of genius, I agree. Owen, you may choose a seedling to gift him."
Magic was never as simple as foolishly waving a wand and reciting an incantation. Especially after studying under several ancient wizards, Owen understood a fundamental truth: there are no invincible wizards, only magic used correctly.
Grindelwald was defeated by Dumbledore, but the one who actually captured him was Newt Scamander. The old wizard generally ignored Dumbledore, but he readily admitted to Owen that when it came to magical creatures, Newt was the true master!
So, if you called Newt the premier expert in creature magic, who would argue?
If you don't believe it, just ask the Ministries of Magic around the world. Watch how nervous they get when they see Newt walking around with that battered suitcase.
Then there was Master Nicolas Flamel. He had lived for centuries, and everyone knew he possessed the Philosopher's Stone. Yet who had the guts to try and rob him?
Not even Voldemort dared.
Magic isn't just Alchemy, but Alchemy stands in a league of its own within the magical world!
The wizarding world is colorful and diverse. Owen never planned to become an all-powerful, omnipotent wizard. he just wanted to see more of the world's wonders.
Herbology wasn't just a subsidiary of Potions. Used correctly, it was Plant Magic, and calling it that wasn't strange at all. Take Milov, for example. He acted less and less like a Devil's Snare every day. Now he enjoyed morning and evening sunlight. Noon, though... depending on the month... well, summer noon sun was something neither Milov nor Owen particularly enjoyed.
---
After finishing his fourth-year Herbology class, Owen ate lunch in his room and immediately started prepping. In the afternoon, he had to teach Charms to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff first-years.
"Magic didn't first appear because it was 'cool' or allowed us to show off. It appeared to make our lives more convenient. Take the Levitation Charm we're learning today. It allows us to easily lift heavy objects that our physical bodies couldn't possibly move..."
Owen's teaching style differed from the professors. He didn't start with theory, then wand movements, then incantations, followed by practice. He wanted the students to understand the purpose of the spell first.
The young wizards listened intently because Owen was giving them pure, practical knowledge.
Like in Herbology, he awarded points generously and deducted none. But at the end of the lesson, he addressed the students of both Houses.
"Ravenclaw's wisdom isn't innate; it's acquired through learning. However, the correct method of learning isn't reading unrelated books during Charms class. That isn't wisdom."
A few of the young eagles lowered their heads in shame.
"Hufflepuff's diligence refers to hard work in mastering magic. For instance, practicing a single spell ten thousand times. When you reach that point, you won't need a wand or an incantation to use it at will. Like this..."
Owen gently flicked his wrist and raised his hand. Every feather the students had been using for practice floated up simultaneously. They danced and swirled in the air, forming various intricate patterns.
The young wizards were instantly convinced.
After assigning homework and dismissing the class, Owen grabbed his Transfiguration textbook, levitated himself, and flew off toward the fifth-year Transfiguration classroom.
---
By the end of the week, the hourglasses used to track House points were nearly overflowing!
Owen was responsible for awarding points to the first-years, while the other professors handled deductions for the older students. Even so, the hourglasses were packed.
"First-years should be encouraged. We need to stimulate their ability to learn independently. Besides, I haven't violated the rules. No student has been awarded more than fifty points."
The young wizard's argument was sound and well-reasoned. Dumbledore turned his gaze to the four Heads of House.
McGonagall: Staring at the ceiling.
Flitwick: Staring at the floor.
Sprout: Looking to the left.
Snape: Sneering.
Dumbledore's eyes lit up. Excellent. I needed someone to break formation!
"Owen, I believe Severus can offer you proper guidance on how to be a good professor. You should learn from him."
Seeing the young wizard start to ponder this, McGonagall panicked. "My dear, I noticed some issues with your Transfiguration homework. Why don't you wait for me in my office?"
Transfiguration?
Homework?
Owen paused, then nodded. He left the Headmaster's office but didn't go straight to McGonagall's. Instead, he stopped by his room to pick up three notebooks before leisurely heading to the seventh floor.
Back in the office, Dumbledore looked at the four Heads of House. "How is Owen's progress? Would anyone like to share?"
Snape said coldly, "As long as he has my notes, he is the next me. In terms of Potions, the only thing he lacks now is a backlog of recipes."
Flitwick puffed out his chest proudly. "Little Owen has already begun theoretical research into compound magic using silent, wandless casting. I believe he'll master it within two years."
Sprout smiled. "Little Owen's talent in Herbology—no, I should say Plant Magic—is unique. The plants in my greenhouse hold no more secrets for him."
McGonagall sighed. She glanced at Dumbledore. "Aside from becoming an Animagus, I can't think of anything left to teach him."
She sighed again. "Little Owen's ability to self-study is too strong. As far as I know, besides absorbing vast amounts of magical theory, he's also researching counter-curses for the Unforgivable Curses?"
"Yes. Starting with... the Cruciatus Curse."
Snape's face turned black instantly. "What is his test subject? Wizards or Muggles?"
Dumbledore looked up at him. "Himself."
Crash!
Snape couldn't sit still. He stormed out of the Headmaster's office and sprinted for the seventh floor. Finding Owen in McGonagall's office, he grabbed the boy without a word and dragged him down to the dungeons. Once the office door slammed shut, he exploded.
"Owen! Owen Corlett!"
Uh oh. Full name. The young wizard, whose mind had been wandering, snapped to attention. "Here, Professor!"
Snape's face loomed close. "I hear you are using your own body to test the Cruciatus Curse?"
"Yes, I..."
"Foolish!"
Snape didn't let him finish. While berating the boy for his stupidity, he began pulling out various potions. His tone was hard and cold. "Drink!"
Owen recognized the potions. And because he recognized them, he had no intention of drinking them—especially the smallest vial, which contained Felix Felicis!
"Professor, I have it under control. I'm casting it on myself, so the intensity is regulated. Although I haven't developed a full counter-curse yet, I have created a minor spell that helps alleviate the effects. In fact, today I'll be conducting an experimental demonstration of the Cruciatus Curse in the Slytherin common room. You can come watch. I'm not forcing myself."
Snape stared deeply into the boy's eyes. After a long silence, he finally spoke. "Fine. I want to see just what the brilliant Mr. Corlett looks like after being hit with the Cruciatus Curse!"
---
At dinner, the Slytherin table was silent. Every student had received the notice. As soon as they finished eating, they rushed back to the common room, checked their quills and notebooks, and took their seats.
Shortly after, Professor Snape arrived. Then came Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, Madam Pince, Madam Pomfrey, and finally Dumbledore himself.
Owen arrived last. He smiled at the circle of professors, then turned to the students. "I hope you can set aside your fear and record this diligently."
Without another word, Owen sat in the center of the room and cast the curse on himself. "Crucio."
The familiar pain washed over him, but Owen didn't scream. Instead, he spoke in a hoarse voice. "Observe the changes in my muscles. Record them. Then compare them with your own condition..."
He couldn't speak any further; his vocal cords felt like they were being torn apart by bare hands. But he still had magic. Rows of text appeared above his head, highlighting the physiological changes they needed to focus on.
After persisting for an hour, Owen finally collapsed from exhaustion and passed out. Madam Pomfrey cried out and moved to intervene, but the Slytherin Head Boy and Girl stopped her. "Madam, it's not over..."
The Head Boy addressed the snakes. "Line up. Everyone must touch Mr. Corlett to feel the physical changes for themselves."
Led by the upper-years, the young wizards lined up. One by one, they placed a hand on him, felt the tremors in his muscles, gritted their teeth, moved away, and furiously took notes.
Only after the last student finished recording did the older students lift Owen and, practically dragging Madam Pomfrey, sprinted for the Hospital Wing. They watched him drink the restorative potions, left two students to keep watch, and finally went back to rest.
Owen woke up at noon the next day. Madam Pomfrey didn't want to let him leave, but aside from being a bit pale, he was fine.
From that day on, the atmosphere in Slytherin changed again. Green-trimmed robes appeared more frequently in the library. And regardless of the year, Slytherin students began performing with excellence in class.
Even without Snape's bias, Slytherin held firmly onto first place in the House Cup!