After being away for a month, Owen went for his morning run, had breakfast, and headed to class. That was when he discovered that Dumbledore had brought him a massive surprise!
"What are you doing here?"
"Why shouldn't I be here?"
Grindelwald kept a straight face, looking at the dumbfounded young wizard.
"I was supposed to be here much earlier, but I got held up. Kid, you've gotten far too comfortable here. This kind of environment will make you lose your edge. So, I have a job for you."
"I just got back! I literally returned last night."
The old Dark Lord smiled faintly.
"No rush. You can rest for a few days before you go. It makes no difference."
Why was there always so much shit to deal with in the wizarding world?
The old Dark Lord said a few days, and he meant exactly a few days. Taking advantage of this short window, Owen first went to Professor Snape to discuss the series of Dragon Potions. Then, he organized the surplus ingredients—dragon blood, dragon teeth, dragon meat, and so on. Besides being used for the Dragon Potions, these were also secondary materials for many high-tier magical components.
Snape was clearly pleased, but he still maintained his usual cold expression.
"Becoming a Potions Master is only the first step. Don't get ahead of yourself."
If it were anyone else, they would have taken that as a sarcastic jab. But Owen was different; he knew the man too well. He naturally knew exactly how to respond.
"Of course, Professor. I still have a long way to go, which is why I believe our Saturday afternoon lessons shouldn't stop."
Snape's mouth twitched.
"That won't be necessary. You are capable of brewing potions independently now. However, if you run into any issues, you may come to me. And you don't have to wait until Saturday."
Three damn years!
Ever since Owen had officially gotten his wand, Snape hadn't had a real weekend in three years. While molding a Potions Master was immensely satisfying, it was also exhausting as hell. Snape figured it was finally time to relax and maybe grab a fucking drink on the weekends.
"That's fantastic—"
Owen started pulling notebooks out of his pockets, one after another.
"Professor, I actually have quite a few questions I'd like to ask you about. I— Wait, where'd he go?"
You couldn't Apparate inside the castle, but you could definitely use other magic. Like running really, really fucking fast...
Owen stood there, smacked his lips, and packed his notebooks away. If Potions was off the table for now, he'd just switch to Charms.
Except Professor Flitwick didn't even give him the chance to pull out his notebooks. And as for Professor McGonagall, Owen didn't even have the heart to bother her.
When students fully entered study mode, the teachers were the ones who suffered the most. Right now, the academic atmosphere at Hogwarts was overwhelmingly intense.
Previously, Owen had only dominated through sheer power and knowledge. But now that he had suddenly become an internationally recognized Potions Master, the students were going a little crazy.
Sure, they couldn't compare to his magical talent or his repertoire of spells. But Potions? A subject that practically didn't require raw magical power or spellcasting? If Owen could do it, why the hell couldn't they?
Of course, not everyone was interested in Potions. So, the students started grinding in all subjects, and the teachers became swamped. Grading homework was especially brutal. As the students' essays became increasingly advanced and professional, the professors had to pay closer attention. If they accidentally led a student down the wrong path, it would be a massive fuck-up.
Then there was the old Dark Lord. He was currently going by the alias "Green" and had become Hogwarts' new Muggle Studies professor.
Owen highly suspected Dumbledore had done this on purpose. Making Grindelwald teach Muggle Studies wasn't a punishment for the students; it was a punishment for the old Dark Lord!
After all, the last time Owen visited him, the man couldn't even figure out how a television worked. And now he was supposed to teach students about Muggles?
Owen found some time to sit in on a class and quickly realized that the old Dark Lord was actually a total badass. He might not understand the tech, but he was loaded!
The Muggle artifacts in the school were all ancient garbage. So, Grindelwald paid out of his own pocket and replaced everything with brand-new Muggle items. He didn't even bother lecturing. Whoever showed up to class just got handed some stuff to play with. They were teenagers; give them a hands-on experience, and they'd figure it out themselves in no time.
So, looking at the flashlight he'd been handed, Owen decided he still preferred the large model ship over there. At least that thing was better eye candy.
"How is my class?"
Owen thought for a moment before replying.
"I see Galleons dancing."
The old Dark Lord laughed heartily. After a moment, he placed a hand on Owen's head.
"Everything I have is right there. Go and take it. Take as much as you can. I won't help you, and I won't stop you. It all depends entirely on your own methods."
The old Dark Lord straightened his back, clasped his hands behind him, and walked away. Owen was left standing there, completely lost.
What the hell? "Right there"? Where the fuck is "there"? Gringotts?
He couldn't wrap his head around it.
It wasn't until he met with Dumbledore that he finally understood. What the old Dark Lord wanted him to take wasn't wealth, nor was it treasure, or any specific magical artifact. It was his former faction. It was—people!
If a psychopath like Voldemort could gather a massive crowd of devoted followers, would a man who actually operated on genuine ideology, like the old Dark Lord, have any less?
No, he had plenty. And these staunch loyalists had now formed their own exclusive circle. They didn't even send their children to magical schools; they educated them themselves.
This was a force to be reckoned with. Why had the old Dark Lord delayed his arrival at Hogwarts for two years? It was for these people. It was also a test for Owen, giving him the chance to prove his power and capability so he could inherit this faction and become their new leader.
As for the Headmaster of Hogwarts? The old Dark Lord honestly didn't give a shit about the title. A bunch of school kids, even with their family backings, were nothing impressive to him!
To put it bluntly, the old Dark Lord simply looked down on the entire British wizarding world.
"And what if I don't go?"
Dumbledore's expression turned serious.
"I'm afraid that's not an option. These people have already gathered. They are currently all at Nurmengard. If you don't go, it will be very difficult to pacify them."
Deep breath!
Another deep breath!
Honestly, Owen had mentally prepared himself for this. The moment he accepted the old Dark Lord and the old wizard as his own elders, he knew he'd be inheriting a mountain of bullshit. But he never expected to take over this quickly. It had only been a few years! How old was he? Couldn't they fucking wait a bit longer?
At the very least, he deserved a happy, carefree child—
Alright, enough of the bullshit. Owen rested for two days before setting off once again. This time, he used magic to travel straight to Nurmengard. It was the same room as before, the same bed. As soon as he arrived, he face-planted right into the mattress.
He didn't want to move a muscle.
Using Apparition over such a long distance left his head spinning like a bitch.