The Mystery of Grindelwald
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Owen had long suspected that his grandfather might be the infamous Gellert Grindelwald—the so-called "Dark Lord."
Of course, the title Dark Lord was one invented by later generations; Grindelwald himself never used it.
There was never a "First" or "Second" Dark Lord—only wizards whose ideologies spiraled out of control.
Grindelwald, in his own mind, had never believed himself wicked.
Everything he did, he claimed, was "for the greater good."
Years later, Rita Skeeter wrote in her sensationalized book The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore:
> If Grindelwald did not top the list of history's most dangerous dark wizards, it was only because another, more enigmatic figure arose to steal the crown.
Naturally, Skeeter misunderstood the entire history.
In Owen's opinion, the sentence should have been:
> If he did not top the list of the most dangerous dark wizards of all time, it was only because Grindelwald never spread his reign of terror into England.
At his peak, Grindelwald had stood alone against half the wizarding world—North America, Africa, and the whole of Europe—while the International Confederation of Wizards hunted him.
Compared to that global influence, Voldemort's reach seemed almost local.
---
"Albus," Professor McGonagall murmured sharply. "This boy has been casting curses on other students—before even entering school."
In her view, docking points was absurdly lenient. Detention was more appropriate.
"Ahem, Minerva, he is just a child."
The old Headmaster gently patted Owen's hair and discreetly returned his wand.
"And he has not yet set foot in Hogwarts as a student."
"I believe his education can be adjusted later."
He cleared his throat and nudged Owen aside.
"It's getting late. And come to think of it—you probably don't know where the Hufflepuff common room is."
"I'll take you there."
To McGonagall's astonishment, the old wizard led the boy past a cluttered table covered in bizarre magical contraptions, through an oak door, and then up the staircase until their footsteps faded.
Faintly, his voice drifted back:
"You should purchase your own wand, my boy. It will help with your future studies."
"Professor—I don't have any money!"
"That's quite all right. I'll lend you some."
"Thank you, Professor! You're too kind!"
---
★ The Second Day of School
Owen's name spread through Hufflepuff House faster than a Niffler spotting gold.
Almost everyone knew that the freshman who had nearly driven the Sorting Hat mad had been personally escorted to his dormitory by Professor Dumbledore.
According to Justin, Owen's overly enthusiastic roommate, Dumbledore's warm greetings and gentle smile were positively reserved—which only added fuel to the rumors.
By lunch, whispers circulated that Owen was someone's secret grandson.
No one knew which troublemaker started it.
Owen suspected the Weasley twins—but he hadn't seen them all day.
He let it go.
---
That afternoon, Professor Sprout—Head of Hufflepuff House—found her opinion of Owen softening.
During Herbology, the seemingly unreliable boy displayed surprisingly broad knowledge of magical plants, even if half his explanations were hilariously incorrect.
Still, Sprout developed a fondness for the unusually bright first-year.
Of course, Owen really wanted to take Care of Magical Creatures.
Unfortunately, it was a third-year elective.
In his grandfather's words:
> "If you ever attend Hogwarts, mark my words—go see what those magical creatures professors are actually capable of."
And then:
> "And Hufflepuff House."
Clearly, Grindelwald's centuries-old resentment toward Newt Scamander had not faded in the slightest.
---
★ Tuesday: Charms and Transfiguration
Professor Flitwick, still holding a poor impression of Owen, wasn't thrilled to see his outspoken student again.
But after Owen casually flicked his wand and made the classroom feather zoom upward like a toy broomstick, Flitwick immediately awarded him five points—beaming with pride.
He really was that talented.
Meanwhile, half the class struggled with the simple Wingardium Leviosa.
Some Hufflepuffs gave up after a few failed attempts, muttering about "saving face."
The Gryffindors, unsurprisingly, had no such concern—Ron Weasley nearly poked Harry in the eye with his wand.
After Hermione scolded him, Ron refused to try again… out of embarrassment.
"Hogwarts students really lack pressure these days," Owen sighed, sitting on a Hufflepuff bench in the Great Hall.
"What, you know of some other magic school?"
A sharp voice snapped from the Gryffindor table.
Hermione Granger.
The little witch was still furious that Owen had stolen her thunder in Charms.
"Of course," Owen replied. "There's a school where bad students are crushed together into a giant wizard-ball by the good students."
"Imagine it: a two-meter-tall rolling sphere of wizards, all alive, their heads sticking out and wailing all day long."
"Hiss… fascinating."
Owen said it as casually as asking about someone's dinner.
But everyone else—including Justin—went pale and slid away from him.
"Pervert!" Hermione snapped. "Do you think I'm stupid? Wizards would never allow a school like that to exist!"
She was still new to the magical world, but even she knew a Dark-Forest-style school was absurd.
"Really! Rhea Lucaria Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
Owen declared.
"What, want to study star-magic? I can teach you!"
"Who wants to learn that dark magic?"
She slammed her fork down, stood up with her huge Charms textbook in hand, glared at him, and stormed off.
Owen would swear—on Ron's lucky red string—that she was marching straight to the library to research.
Hehe… perfect. The little wizard is finally getting serious!
Not studying properly and spending her time finding loopholes in school rules?
Unacceptable!
Besides—Hogwarts didn't even have summer tutoring programs.
Terrible for competitive geniuses like Kyrie Irving!
If no one pushed themselves, how would talent differ?
How would hierarchy emerge?
If everyone grew equally…
Wouldn't that become a utopia?
Hmph!
This trend must be stopped at the source!