The Charms Seminar naturally revolved around discussing charms.
In the wizarding world, the quality of a spell depends on several factors: the amount of magic consumed, the fluidity and conciseness of the incantation, the power of the resulting magic, and—most importantly—its controllability and versatility.
While the vast majority of attendees were busy debating, Owen was busy learning. Three notebooks floated around him, each accompanied by a quill scribbling furiously. Owen himself wasn't idle either; whenever he encountered an interesting spell, he tested it out right then and there.
Needless to say, his proficiency in wandless magic was displayed openly for all the wizards to see.
Madame Maxime had been keeping an eye on the boy. When she saw him cast a spell currently under discussion with nothing but his bare hands, her eyes widened into perfect circles.
This boy... this little wizard... if he were a student at Beauxbatons...
Just as the giant Headmistress turned to approach him, she saw someone beat her to it. That old witch, Sickleworth, already had her hand on the boy's shoulder.
Oh no. That old hag is a professor at Ilvermorny. Is she trying to poach him for her school?
Absolutely not! Over my dead body!
The giant Headmistress sprang into action. In two massive strides, she reached the boy, ignoring the other wizards she knocked over in her haste. With one hand, she effortlessly lifted the young wizard into the air. Of course, she immediately noticed his unusual weight.
"Owen, my dear, has this seminar been helpful to you?"
Owen quietly slipped his wand back into his pocket (he had been holding it for a trickier spell) and smiled. "Of course. It's been incredibly helpful. I've learned a lot."
Madame Maxime kept her expression composed while laughing heartily. She subtly pivoted her massive frame, physically blocking the elderly alchemy professor and shoving her two meters away. Only then did she continue, "Do you have any questions? With so many outstanding wizards here, I'm sure someone can help you."
"Actually, yes!"
Owen was set down. He looked at the crowd of wizards and asked, "Magic is the source of a wizard's power; it is energy. So, is it possible to use raw magic directly, without restricting it through a spell structure? Something like this..."
The young wizard raised his hand. A bright blue point of light appeared at the tip of his index finger. The light grew rapidly until it was the size of a soccer ball. Owen pointed his finger at the window. The compressed magic shot out like a bullet, piercing through the glass and exploding high in the clouds.
BOOM!
The wizards at the seminar stared at the patch of clear blue sky where the clouds had been blown away. A heavy silence fell over the room. After a few moments of dazed staring, several attendees quietly walked out of the venue and never came back.
Discuss? What is there left to discuss? Let's just go home. I'm tired.
An explosion of pure, compressed magic. No incantation. No wand movement. He didn't even use a wand. And most terrifying of all, raw magic holds infinite possibilities for variation.
In comparison, what were the spells they had spent years researching? Tricks?
Magic? Heh. Magic isn't worth it!
Some people had their spirits crushed. Others, after the initial shock, could only smile bitterly. Madame Maxime was one of the latter.
"My dear, there is no need to consider such things. Because as far as I know, apart from you, no one else possesses such vast reserves of magic. The spells we discuss are meant to serve the wider wizarding community. At the very least... they need to be usable by normal people."
Releasing half his magic in one go had left Owen a little breathless. After taking several deep breaths, he nodded. "I understand, ma'am. I'll keep that in mind."
Madame Maxime smiled at him, but the moment she turned around, her face went cold.
Dumbledore... how dare you... what right do you have...
Sickleworth finally squeezed her way back to the boy's side, picking up the previous conversation. "My dear, your wandless casting technique looks somewhat familiar. Would you mind telling me who taught you?"
"Of course. It was Mr. Grindelwald. I studied under Gellert Grindelwald for six months."
The venue went so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Once, the old Dark Lord had told the young wizard, "I used to make the entire wizarding world tremble." Owen had just smiled politely at the time. But looking around now...
It seemed the old man wasn't bragging after all.
The seminar ended early. Originally scheduled for ten days, it wrapped up in four. When Owen returned to Hogwarts carrying a huge pile of letters, the castle was already being decorated for the holidays.
"Owen?" Professor McGonagall was the first to spot him. "Why are you back so early?"
The young wizard opened his mouth but couldn't find the words. How do you explain that? 'Sorry, Professor, I dropped the old Dark Lord's name and everyone got too scared to continue?'
Instead, he pulled a small box from his pocket. "Professor, is the Headmaster in? I have letters for him."
"Dumbledore isn't here at the moment, but you can leave them in his office."
"Understood."
Normally, the Headmaster's office required a password. But not for Owen. The stone gargoyle recognized him instantly and leaped aside, allowing the young wizard to enter.
Coincidentally, Harry and Ron, who were wandering the corridors, witnessed this scene.
"Did you see that, Harry? I knew it! Owen must be Dumbledore's relative!"
Harry was a bit stunned too, but he quickly shook his head. "I don't think so. Mr. Corlett and Headmaster Dumbledore have different last names."
"Oh come on, Harry. Don't you think Owen could be Dumbledore's secret relative? Like maybe..."
"A secret love child?"
Ron was so immersed in his fantasy that he didn't notice Harry hadn't spoken. He didn't even feel Harry tugging urgently on his sleeve. Instead, he nodded in agreement with the voice. "Yeah, that's possible!"
Harry couldn't take it anymore. He yanked Ron hard and shouted, "Hello, Mr. Baron!"
Ron shuddered violently. He turned around slowly and found himself face-to-face with the Bloody Baron, who was floating beside him with a terrifyingly grim expression.
"Spreading rumors about Owen will bring the curse of Hogwarts upon you. I hope you come to your senses, foolish little wizard!"
The Bloody Baron floated away, leaving Ron pale as a sheet.
He was genuinely terrified.
He suddenly remembered his three older brothers mentioning that Owen Corlett seemed to be blessed by the castle itself. All the portraits, all the ghosts—they all liked him. Even Peeves wouldn't prank him. Anyone who tried to harm—or even just prank—Owen in the castle would be stopped.
So when the Bloody Baron talked about a curse... it might actually be real!
What do I do?
Apart from apologizing to his face, there's probably no other way...