"Hello, my name is Fleur Delacour. Nice to meet you, Mr. Corlett."
Looking at the witch with Veela blood standing before him, Owen was curious. "Hello, Miss Delacour. Do you know me?"
"Just call me Fleur. My friends call me that. And no, I don't know you personally, but I've heard of you. Master Nicolas mentioned you to the Headmistress. He said you were his most prized student, and also his last."
Master Nicolas?
The old man who had originally lived long enough and was ready to face death? The one who had upgraded his alchemical wheelchair from 30 km/h to 170 km/h? Owen hadn't seen them last holiday, but he heard the couple went traveling and even watched a racing competition. After that, they decided they didn't want to die anymore. After school started, Nicolas even wrote to Owen saying he planned to upgrade the wheelchair to 400 km/h and take a few laps around a racetrack...
When Owen read that letter, he knew exactly what race they had watched. The only thing with that kind of speed was Formula 1.
Without magic, such a feat would be impossible. When he first read the letter, Owen immediately felt the sheer absurdity of magic: a six-hundred-year-old man in a 400 km/h wheelchair, living his best "Fast and Furious" life on an F1 track.
Stop. Can't think about it anymore. The image is too abstract; it messes with my brain. The more I think about it, the more I want to try it myself!
Reining in his thoughts, Owen looked at the beautiful witch whose eyes were twinkling. He smiled. "So?"
"Our school also has an alchemy workshop. I was wondering if we could invite you to give us a demonstration?"
Owen laughed. She wasn't hiding the challenge in her eyes. Thinking about it, he understood why.
Mention Hogwarts, and everyone's first association is Dumbledore.
Mention Beauxbatons, and everyone's first association is Nicolas Flamel.
Both were iconic figures in the wizarding world and the figureheads of their respective schools. But Beauxbatons students were often dissatisfied that the current wizarding world always talked about Dumbledore, seemingly forgetting the even greater wizard, Nicolas Flamel.
And now, here was the perfect opportunity!
A student from Hogwarts, whom Master Nicolas himself called his student, had just appeared before her eyes. Wouldn't it be appropriate to reclaim some glory?
Specifically, in alchemy!
Master Nicolas was a professor at Beauxbatons and had taught alchemy classes there. Beauxbatons prided itself on its alchemy standards. Fleur didn't believe a young wizard like Owen could compare to students at her school who specialized in the subject.
"Many elders have told me that life is continuous learning. I look forward to it. Shall we go now?"
"Yes, this way please!"
Owen was indeed interested. Hogwarts really didn't prioritize alchemy, and the school lacked a dedicated workshop. Whether you could learn it depended entirely on personal talent...
So sometimes, when Owen wanted to make something, he had nowhere to do it. He could only jot down his ideas and wait until the holidays to borrow Master Nicolas's equipment during his visits.
Since he was here, he naturally had to take a tour, note down the equipment specs, and see if he could replicate an alchemy workshop back at Hogwarts.
The location was ready-made; the Chamber of Secrets would be perfect!
A qualified alchemy workshop must have a material purifier. The one at Beauxbatons was magnificent. Owen almost had an improper thought!
If I stuff it in my pouch and Apparate away...
Okay, no. There are anti-Apparition wards here. If I fly, I'm not faster than a broomstick. If I get caught, the stuff in my pouch might be confiscated, and some of those items definitely can't see the light of day.
"Mr. Corlett, won't you give it a try?"
Seeing his stunned expression, Fleur was extremely satisfied. She prepared to be polite; once Owen refused, she could lead him out.
But to her surprise, Owen nodded. "That would be wonderful. Miss Fleur, you have no idea how tempting this exquisite equipment is to an alchemist."
As soon as he finished speaking, Owen rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He tossed gold and silver ingots into the purifier. In the blink of an eye, refined gold essence and Mithril dropped out. Owen took the materials to the blast furnace, but finding the temperature unsatisfactory, he... unleashed Fiendfyre!
A thumb-sized blue flame instantly softened the materials. Then came shaping. Soon, two rings—one gold, one silver—were formed. Picking up a carving knife from the side, Owen's concentration sharpened instantly as he began engraving runes onto the rings bit by bit.
His movements were too fast. By the time Fleur wanted to stop him, he was already carving runes. It was too late. At this stage, he couldn't be disturbed. A single mistake might just ruin the materials, but it could also blow up the workshop. That would be a sin.
This workshop was the school's lifeblood!
Fleur was both angry and helpless: Does Hogwarts not teach students the concept of politeness?
Owen moved quickly because he already had a plan. He had memorized the runes perfectly and didn't need to consult references or familiarize himself beforehand like others.
An hour later, all runes were carved. Then came the final step: enchantment infusion!
Using magical power to activate the runes on the item. This step wasn't particularly hard, but the success rate was extremely low. Too much or too little magic meant failure—all previous efforts wasted, and the materials vanishing in a flash of light.
What surprised Fleur was that Owen was infusing both rings simultaneously, rather than one by one.
"Stop! That's..."
Too late. Owen had already started. Both rings glowed with a pale blue light as magic poured in, activating the runes.
Owen's body also glowed with a pale blue light. It wasn't steady; it flickered. This wasn't because Owen couldn't control his magic, but because he was testing the maximum tolerance of the two rings. Gold essence and Mithril had different tolerance levels.
The magical glow lasted for two hours. When it finally faded, Fleur let out a sigh of relief, and so did Owen. He put the two rings together, twisted them, and they merged into a single intertwining gold and silver ring.
He put it on the middle finger of his left hand and smiled with satisfaction. With the help of this ring, his Shield Charm (Protego) finally broke through to fourteen layers—an increase of five whole layers. Once his control improved, that number could increase further.
The ring's function was to amplify his defensive Shield Charm...
Mr. Grindelwald had taught him that no matter how genius a wizard is, it's useless if they can't survive. Therefore, Owen had always been serious and meticulous about self-protection.
Don't underestimate the Shield Charm. Aside from the Unforgivable Curses, no other magic could penetrate it. Even the incredibly sharp Sectumsempra could only shatter four layers of his shield.
Several hours of high-intensity concentration took a toll even on Owen. He turned his head, intending to ask where he could rest, but jumped in fright. Fleur's face was almost touching his, her eyes shining with intensity. "How did you do that?"