Facing the admiration of a beautiful woman, Owen casually waved his hand, his demeanor calm and indifferent, as if implying it was nothing special...
That was what Owen wanted to do. But the beautiful witch didn't give him the chance. Before his smile could fully form, Fleur had already drawn her wand and pointed it at him, her face icy cold. "Speak! How did you do that!"
Good grief! She flipped that switch faster than turning a page!
Fortunately, Owen wasn't the type to be paralyzed by beauty. He moved with lightning speed, grabbing her wrist and pushing it upwards. Fleur's wand pointed harmlessly at the ceiling. And he didn't stop there. In Fleur's vision, a hand glowing with white light grew larger and larger. As it pressed against her face, all she could see was a vast expanse of white, and then she fell asleep...
Although she had drawn her wand on him, which was incredibly rude, it was just excessive impatience. She simply wanted to know his enchantment technique.
She was a witch passionate about alchemy; she didn't have malicious intent. Just like him—even though he had mastered all the Unforgivable Curses and wanted to develop a few more, he was still a good person, right?
Gently laying the sleeping beauty down and casting several layers of protective charms over her, Owen clasped his hands behind his back and walked out of the alchemy workshop. He planned to wander around the other classrooms, maybe audit a few lessons, and see how Beauxbatons' teaching standards measured up.
But he hadn't gone far when two people blocked his path.
One was the half-giant Headmistress, and the other was none other than Dumbledore.
"Ho ho, look at this. I've finally found the lost little wizard."
Madame Maxime's expression was particularly sour. Little Owen had only been here a short while, and this old coot Dumbledore had chased him all the way from England to France. It was hateful! Her plan to lure the young wizard over hadn't even been put into action yet!
Given her bad mood, her tone was naturally sharp. Moreover, the giantess Headmistress wasn't afraid of Dumbledore at all. After being rebuked a few times, Dumbledore maintained his smile throughout, then grabbed Owen and Apparated three times in rapid succession, returning directly to Hogwarts.
Once was fine. Twice was bearable. But three times without pause was a bit much. Owen found a familiar tree, leaned against it, and... "Bleugh!"
"There we go. The lost little wizard is finally home. My dear Owen, I imagine you need rest. Why don't you come to my office a bit later? There are some things you need to know."
Indeed, he needed rest. He was dizzy as hell.
Falling onto his bed, hugging the fluffy big cat, and enjoying a massage from Milov the Devil's Snare, Owen fell asleep in no time. He slept straight until just before dinner.
Finally seeing Owen again, the students breathed a huge sigh of relief. After dinner, he habitually sat on the lawn outside the castle. Within moments, he was surrounded by layers upon layers of students.
"No Q&A today. Let's talk about my recent experience. You know where I went, right?"
"Egypt!"
"Correct. I participated in curse-breaking work there. The job left a deep impression on me. You know what? As long as you study seriously and follow the professors' guidance, a third-year level is sufficient to do the job. However, to truly become a perfect curse-breaker, you must continue learning constantly."
"Mr. Corlett, even you aren't good enough?"
"Me? I'm still far from it. Do you know? The first cursed item I encountered gave me quite a scare..."
His simple recount of the curse-breaking experience had the sheltered students' hearts pounding and gasping in amazement. Unknowingly, their attitude toward learning was strengthened once again—especially regarding Transfiguration.
When the time came, Owen didn't rush back to his room. Instead, he went next door to the Headmaster's office. Seeing the Headmaster eating candy, Owen calmly swept all the sweets on the desk into his pocket. "Mr. Dumbledore, you can't keep eating like this. It's bad for your health."
Yes, wizards don't get sick easily because magic sustains them. But magic decreases as one ages and physical functions decline. Although there are potions for that time, potions are still medicine. It's best to stay healthy naturally and keep away from medicine if possible.
Dumbledore accepted the concern. Once Owen was seated, he began to recount the events that had transpired at the school over the past month.
First, the Chamber of Secrets had been found via the second-floor girls' bathroom. Lockhart, controlled by the diary, had led Harry Potter into the Chamber.
"Wait a moment..." Owen looked up at Dumbledore. "I recall sealing that passage for safety. How did Lockhart enter from there?"
Dumbledore pushed up his glasses. "Ah, that. Naturally, I spent three days restoring that passage. I must say, Owen, you sealed it very thoroughly."
Deep breath... Owen said nothing more and gestured for him to continue.
Dumbledore didn't hesitate. He continued with Lockhart. Because Tom's soul had absorbed too much of his life force, the professor could no longer perform his duties. He was currently receiving treatment at St. Mungo's. Even if he survived, he could no longer be a wizard. And that wasn't all. His past misdeeds had all come to light, exposed by heroic newspaper reporters. Once discharged, Azkaban awaited him.
Then came Harry Potter. He performed heroically in the Chamber incident, especially when he pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat...
"Wait, Headmaster. Stripes... he wasn't..."
Mentioning this, Dumbledore looked a bit sheepish. "Actually, it wasn't a waste. Severus will handle it well."
Stripes... handled by Professor Snape?
Owen was stunned for less than a second before he jumped up, rushed out of the Headmaster's office, leaped down the staircase, and flew toward the dungeons. When he pushed open the Potions Master's office door and entered the larger brewing room, he finally couldn't help but cover his face.
Such a big Stripes... by now, he had not only been processed, but more than half of him had already been turned into potion ingredients!
"Ah, you're not going to cry, are you? I don't have any potions here that require wizard tears. You can go outside if you want to cry."
It hurt. It really hurt. But not enough to cry. Owen just couldn't understand. "Professor, a living Basilisk can provide endless materials. Killing it like this... isn't it too wasteful? Besides, Stripes—the Basilisk—was left by Slytherin to protect the school..."
"Slytherin didn't know shit!"
Professor Snape was the same as always—opening with a critical hit. Being the Head of Slytherin House didn't mean he had any undue reverence for Salazar Slytherin.
"Protection? Since the Basilisk can't control its eyes, that's not protection. When it can't distinguish friend from foe, do you think more enemies will die, or more students?"
Snape paused his work on the animal parts. He stared at Owen. "If your determination requires external force, it proves your strength is insufficient!"
Fine. Nothing left to say. Another experimental subject gone.
On the road to researching the counter-curse for the Unforgivable Curses, stumbling blocks are everywhere!
Stripes: Everyone, I trade my offline status for your support of my author!