The books had multiplied suddenly.
Not yet enrolled, Owen was not technically a Hogwarts student. Though permitted inside, he could not study at the communal tables like the pupils, so his place was beside Madam Pince.
Seeing the sudden pile of volumes, he turned to the librarian, who smiled gently. "Dear boy, these are gifts from the professors. Precious notes, every one."
Owen smiled as well. "Knowledge is humanity's most valuable treasure. For wizards, even more so. Madam, how might I thank the professors?"
Madam Pince looked into the boy's eyes. "Do what is within your power."
Money, he had none. Gifts were impossible. What lay within his power was something else.
After lunch, the young wizard did not come to the library.
"Perhaps he got lost..."
Madam Pince chuckled. Hogwarts was vast; a young wizard losing his way was perfectly normal. But there was no need for concern. The portraits and ghosts would guide him back.
Half an hour later, Madam Pince set down her book. "Could he be exhausted? Asleep? At his age, boys are still growing..."
Two hours later, Madam Pince set down her book again, her expression tight, and hurried to the Headmaster's office. "Headmaster Dumbledore! The boy is missing!"
Dumbledore gave a start, but after hearing her out, he smiled. "Do not worry. He is preparing gifts for us."
Hogwarts keeps no secrets.
Owen thought he was working in secret, but before long every professor knew. Each one pretended ignorance, waiting in anticipation.
When dinner arrived, the boy reappeared, flour dusting his face but grinning brilliantly.
Soon, food appeared on the tables, but not the usual fare. Instead, dishes the professors had never seen.
"This dish is called Sweet and Sour Pork. This one is Guobaorou. This is Fish-Fragrant Pork..."
Yes, the only gift Owen could conceive, and could deliver, was a meal. Chinese cuisine. Of these dishes, only one used potatoes: Hot and Sour Shredded Potatoes. Not mash, not boiled, not roast.
To suit the professors' palates, Owen chose mostly sweet dishes. For himself, he prepared dishes for nutrition: lamb chops, braised beef, braised pork ribs.
He ate until his mouth glistened with grease. The professors ate well too, particularly paired with white rice. Everything had real flavour.
Hogwarts kept no rice; the house-elves had gone to considerable trouble to acquire it. The quality was acceptable, though not perfect. This time Owen not only cooked, but taught the house-elves the cuisine, earning their instant adoration.
They promised Owen that wherever he was in Hogwarts, if he rapped three times on any surface, hot food would appear.
The love of good food gave Professor Sprout hope. After all, the Hufflepuff dormitories sat beside the kitchens; never going hungry was a tacit Hufflepuff privilege.
Indeed, Sprout no longer expected to become Owen's mentor. But she could ensure he entered Hufflepuff House. If not master and apprentice, then the closest student-teacher bond.
She had already planned her argument: she would withdraw from the competition in exchange for the boy's placement. Surely the others would agree.
But now was not the time...
After presenting his gifts, Owen's books and notes multiplied again. Madam Pince was forced to extend the desk beside her, or the boy's materials would not fit.
Potions and Herbology were related disciplines, mutually reinforcing. To brew potions, one must understand the properties of ingredients.
After organising magical history, Owen began intensive Herbology study. Fortunately, this subject was not as chaotic as History, and with Sprout's notes, his progress was rapid. Within a week, Owen's study location moved from the library to the dungeons.
Seeing him there, Snape was somewhat surprised. Though pleased, what came out of his mouth was something else entirely. "You do not imagine that reading for a few days qualifies you to brew potions?"
Owen smiled. "Of course not. I came to learn proper ingredient preparation technique from you. Would you... teach me?"
Snape paused, then pulled his lips into something that resembled a smile.
He was genuinely pleased.
For Owen to say this proved he had read the notebooks carefully. To become a Potions master required not recipes or ratios, but mature technique in handling ingredients. That was the foundation of foundations.
"Come after lunch every day before term begins. After term starts, Saturday afternoons."
"Thank you, Professor!"
Why afternoon? Because he could not rise in the morning?
Owen asked no such question. He simply filled his empty mornings with visits to the greenhouses...
When it came to the boy's daily route, Greenhouse to Library to Dungeons, Professor Flitwick had opinions. He personally intercepted Owen and informed him that Charms were the foundation of wizardry.
"But Professor, I have no wand..."
Owen had asked about this. Dumbledore had explained that before the age of eleven, upon formal enrolment, a young wizard could not possess a wand.
Unfamiliar with the rules, Owen decided to respect them. Even for potions, he restricted himself to preparation only, not brewing, because some potions required wand-stirring, and a hand was hardly a substitute.
"Exactly..." Flitwick was momentarily checked, but quickly rallied. "Therefore, you must learn wandless casting."
Owen was startled. "Wandless casting... Is this something all underage wizards must learn?"
"Yes..."
Professor Flitwick was small, with a great beard. When he blushed, it was invisible.
"Magic is truly miraculous, Professor. Thank you. Look, before breakfast, after breakfast, before lunch, after lunch, before dinner, after dinner... might I come to you for lessons?"
Good heavens, the boy had packed his schedule this full?
Flitwick considered. "Perhaps we might take our meals in my office? Though once term begins..."
"Sunday mornings?"
"Of course, child. I am delighted you made such a wise decision. And should you encounter difficulties, you are welcome to find me at any time."
With Charms added to his schedule, Owen refined his timetable once more:
Five o'clock: Rise. Ten minutes for washing. Five-ten: Morning run. Six o'clock: Flitwick's office for breakfast and wandless casting practice.
Seven o'clock: Greenhouses. Assist Sprout with herbs and learn relevant knowledge.
Eleven o'clock: Library. Organise notes. Twelve to one: Reading.
One-ten: Magic study and lunch.
Three o'clock: Dungeons. Learn ingredient preparation, observe Snape's brewing, take records.
Six o'clock: Magic study and dinner.
Eight to ten: Library for notes and reading.
Ten o'clock: Sleep.
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