In Class (Various Requests —)
Sunday passed peacefully.
Monday, however, arrived with a storm of rumors sweeping through Hogwarts.
Thanks to the very vivid accounts provided by the upper-year students who had witnessed Owen beating up several junior wizards, his "legend" was now circulating through every corridor of the castle. Even the ghosts, who rarely cared about such mundane drama, drifted around asking questions. (They couldn't leave the castle, so they had missed the actual event.)
The Hufflepuff ghost—the Fat Friar—was especially ecstatic. He'd been floating around telling every portrait, suit of armor, and hallway gargoyle that Hufflepuff was on the rise.
He had been chuckling for hours.
Whenever he saw a younger student, he would drift over and subtly hint that the balance of power at Hogwarts had shifted.
Gryffindor? Obsolete.
Slytherin? Past their prime.
Hufflepuff was next in line—
Why?
Because Hufflepuff had the strongest first-year wizard alive: Owen Sanchez!
The Fat Friar had been overlooked for centuries, so this was the happiest he'd been since the Middle Ages. Even better, Sir Nicholas—Gryffindor's ghost—kept gritting his teeth every time someone brought up Owen. The fact that Gryffindor still had Harry Potter didn't comfort him at all; in fact, it only heightened the rivalry.
Oh, how the Friar loved seeing Gryffindor look helpless.
The other Houses reacted as expected:
Gryffindor was collectively mortified—three of the five beaten students had been theirs.
Slytherin observed everything with amusement. Any tension between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor benefited them.
Ravenclaw was bewildered that a first-year could cast so many spells already—they instantly began revising their study schedules and, within the hour, started arguing among themselves.
But while the Houses disagreed on everything else, they all shared one rumor:
Owen must be Dumbledore's illegitimate grandson.
The rumor only grew louder on Monday morning.
It finally ended when Professor McGonagall shut it down during Transfiguration class.
---
Transfiguration Class
"Two points to Hufflepuff," Professor McGonagall said, her voice low as she glanced at the ornate snuffbox sitting on Owen's desk.
She was numb.
From the very first lesson, this child had displayed Transfiguration talent beyond anything she'd seen in a first year. She had never encountered a student who could carve the Hogwarts motto onto a desk with a first-year transformation spell.
"However—" her face darkened as she noticed the fresh carving in the corner of Owen's desk:
—Morning
Clearly added that morning.
"—For defacing school property, three points from Hufflepuff!"
"Professor, I'm just reminding myself to work hard and stay ahead," Owen said, tilting his head back with his big grey eyes, looking every bit the diligent Hufflepuff.
"You can transfigure yourself into an alarm clock if you need reminding," McGonagall said sharply before moving on.
Hermione's needle? Perfect.
Harry's? Passable—but still wobbling.
Ron's? A disaster. It looked like a matchstick fused to a bent nail.
Justin? Slightly better than Ron, but still awful.
And then:
"An alarm clock!" Owen's voice rang from the back.
"What kind of alarm clock should I turn into? A mechanical one? Hmm… no, too much winding."
"Maybe an electronic one? Oh—right. Electronics don't work in Hogwarts."
"But what if it's a magically created electronic alarm clock?"
"Professor, do you think Headmaster Dumbledore could set up a space in the castle where magic doesn't interfere?"
"Because honestly, we can't let Kamar-Taj have better Wi-Fi than Hogwarts!"
"Er—Professor, do you know what Wi-Fi is?"
"Mr. Sanchez, be quiet!" McGonagall snapped, on the verge of losing her composure.
She had seen professors torment students.
She had seen Peeves torment professors.
But a student tormenting a professor? This was new.
Even the Weasley twins felt manageable compared to this child.
Even Slytherins seemed delightful in comparison.
Her patience at its end, McGonagall said flatly, "If you utter one more word—just one—you will leave this classroom."
Silence fell instantly.
Ten full seconds of uneasy quiet followed.
Then:
"Professor… does that count as the beginning of a sentence, or—"
"GET. OUT."
"Yes, Professor!"
Owen cheerfully packed up and left the Transfiguration classroom.
---
Potions Class
That afternoon, on the way to the dungeon for Potions, the Hufflepuff trio—Owen, Justin, and Hannah—ran into the Gryffindor first-years.
Being the ever-friendly businessman he was, Owen decided this was the perfect time to maintain "customer relations."
Thus, the Hufflepuff trio was immediately declared "temporarily disbanded" so he could mingle with Gryffindor.
"Have you heard the story of Severus?" Owen asked as he squeezed into the Gryffindor crowd near Harry.
"That legendary Potions Master who devoted himself to protecting the one he loved. Because of him, Slytherin's reputation soared."
"…Why is he talking like that?" Ron muttered to Harry.
"I have no idea," Harry whispered back. "I've just accepted it."
Since Saturday's fight—and especially after McGonagall's meltdown—Gryffindor respected Owen. Deeply.
Of course, he had offended their Head of House. Respect did not erase their desire to avenge her honor.
Rumor had it some upper-years were planning to "re-educate" Owen soon.
Inside the Potions classroom, Owen continued philosophizing:
"So, if you like someone, confess! Don't keep it bottled up. Otherwise, you'll just end up watching them marry someone else."
"Seize the moment! Charge in! Take your shot! Worst case, you end up in Azkaban. Everyone there is talented—think of it as studying abroad!"
"Professor Snape missed his chance, and now he's barking like a defeated Kneazle, taking it out on all of you."
A student sighed dramatically.
"With his personality, even if he had another chance, he probably wouldn't take it."
"Young! Too young! He couldn't control himself!"