The month flew by, but Owen had no intention of returning immediately. He had found something far more interesting right here.
Curses were high-level magic. Especially in ancient times, the materials required weren't trivial. As for the kind of curse that could be planted with just a few muttered words? That was impossible for anyone below the Legendary level, unless they had prepared extensively beforehand and struck in secret.
Therefore, among these magical artifacts, the most common entities found were actually wraiths. All shapes and sizes, human and non-human vengeful spirits.
And they were exactly what Owen was interested in—his new primary research targets.
The standard curse-breaking procedure involved luring these wraiths out, hitting them with a Befuddlement Charm to temporarily render them idiotic, stuffing them into a new container, and finally tossing them into a purification furnace.
This method wasn't bad, per se, but Owen had his own ideas.
Wraiths and ghosts weren't the same thing. Wraiths had absolutely no reason; they only engaged in instinctive destruction and harm. Their composition was different from ghosts, too. A ghost's magnetic field was pure, but a wraith's was chaotic and scattered. Ironically, it was this scattered nature that made them hard to target effectively.
Of course, that was a problem for others. For Owen, it wasn't an issue at all.
"Lightning!"
In Owen's memory, the best way to deal with wraiths was lightning. "Scattered" meant they weren't cohesive, and the violent nature of lightning elements was absolutely perfect for shattering such unstable energy fields.
Zap. A tiny bolt, no more than five hundred volts, nearly blasted the wraith into oblivion. Owen sighed in relief. Watching the now-disoriented wraith, he began his brand-new operation.
Pure magical power condensed into a large hand, which then slapped the wraith across the face. The wraith's magnetic field became even more chaotic, but unlike previous attempts, it didn't dissipate entirely.
The notebook and quill flew up again, scribbling furiously. After the giant hand made of magic slapped the wraith again, the already weakened spirit finally shattered, turning into a cluster of small red lights. Before they could touch the ground, the blue phoenix watching nearby swooped in and burned the lights into nothingness.
Owen didn't rush to the next cursed object. Instead, he took the notebook and reviewed his experiment records line by line. Meanwhile, the magical hand in the air didn't vanish; it kept changing, shifting in both size and color.
Wizards couldn't be digitized, but magic could. He didn't need to be conservative with his mana like other wizards. He used it whenever he could. A good night's sleep would refill his reserves anyway, and using it up might even help his capacity grow a tiny bit.
Just as he stabilized the numerical values for the magic hand, the door to the Curse-Breaking Room was pushed open. The supervisor, Mr. MGM, stood there, smiling. "Mr. Corlett, a letter has arrived from Headmaster Dumbledore. He asks that you return to Hogwarts immediately. He says it is a matter of great importance."
"Alright. Thank you. I understand."
Owen packed his things simply and headed to the airport. He decided to fly back on a plane. Previously, he had used magic to travel, but because he didn't know the route, he spent two days running around before realizing—wouldn't a plane be faster than running?
Also, he didn't plan to return to England immediately. He intended to stop in France first to experience a bit of romance.
After ceasing to magically conceal his tracks, Owen changed his "skin." No longer dressed like old British nobility, he looked like a normal teenager: riding a skateboard, wearing large headphones, a Walkman clipped to his waist, leisurely cruising through the streets.
It was only when he settled down and mingled among Muggles as a wizard that he realized how interesting this world truly was.
France had a magic school too, so there were no fewer wizards here than in Britain. These wizards rarely used Muggle-Repelling Charms. Although their clothes weren't entirely bizarre, they were distinct from ordinary people—usually a bit more elegant and expensive.
For example, right now, several witches in blue silk dresses had cornered Owen on a street corner.
"You must be a student, right? But I haven't seen you at Beauxbatons?"
"Don't you know that you can't use magic in Muggle neighborhoods?"
The corner of Owen's mouth curved up. "Ladies. First, I am not a student of Beauxbatons; I am from Hogwarts. Second, I didn't use magic. This is a downhill slope, and I'm on a skateboard. That's called inertia. Finally, ladies, if you don't speed up, you're going to be late."
A wizard from Hogwarts?
The girls exchanged glances and instantly hatched an idea. "No! We don't know if you're lying. You have to come to school with us!"
With that, the girls grabbed Owen and took off running. The wheels of his skateboard were spinning so fast they were sparking.
Do French girls have this much stamina?
Owen looked down and realized they were using magic. Their shoes were enchanted to save energy and increase speed.
Now that was interesting. Enchantment wasn't alchemy; it was much cheaper than alchemy but no less difficult. Beauxbatons really had some tricks up their sleeves.
"Well? Is our school better than Hogwarts?"
Looking at the magical fountains and the palace that looked far more like a proper school than Hogwarts castle, Owen nodded in agreement. "It is indeed very beautiful. Worthy of being the largest magic school in Europe."
The girls were delighted and dragged him all the way to the Headmistress's office.
"Madame Maxime, we meet again."
When the half-giant Headmistress saw Owen, she was first surprised, then delighted. "Oh my heavens! My dear Owen, have you finally come to your senses and decided to join us at Beauxbatons?"
Lifted into mid-air by her hug, Owen laughed softly. "Madame, it's a misunderstanding. Your students dragged me here. They evidently didn't believe I was a Hogwarts student."
"Well, it seems you haven't thought it through yet..."
The Headmistress released him. Owen didn't fall; he hovered in the air and descended slowly. "Madame, now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, may I..."
"Of course you can. Mirna, could you please call Fleur for me?"
"Yes, Headmistress."
One witch ran off, and soon, an even more beautiful one arrived. Madame Maxime watched her prize student enter, introduced the two, and then instructed the student to show Owen around the school properly—and even let him sit in on some classes...
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