Ravenclaw was a very gentle House. In the modern wizarding world, whenever people spoke of wisdom, the name Rowena Ravenclaw was never far behind. This legendary witch was truly extraordinary.
During the era of the Four Founders, the magical world was in transition. To this day, the starting point for countless magical theories can be traced back to her. Calling her the embodiment of wisdom is no exaggeration. She wasn't as flashy as some of the other founders, but in her quiet way, she helped innumerable people.
Wisdom has nothing to do with blood status.
In Rowena Ravenclaw's view, even if you lacked raw talent, the wisdom gained through hard work was still wisdom.
The young eagles weren't overly surprised by Owen's arrival, just deeply curious. However, no one bombarded him with questions; they all had their own projects to focus on.
Owen didn't hold any meetings with the Ravenclaws because there was no need. They knew what they wanted and hadn't strayed from their path.
However, seeing him wearing Ravenclaw blue while leading a group of green-robed Slytherins on morning runs did make the eagles slightly uncomfortable.
"Morning exercise is voluntary. I have no right to stop anyone from learning and improving."
He wasn't lying. Even though Owen wore Ravenclaw blue, the snakes didn't mistake him for an eagle. The results of the past ten days of training were visible to the naked eye. Furthermore, the first wave of funding from their families had arrived.
The school brooms were completely replaced with Nimbus 1700s—even the Quidditch team got upgrades.
A massive shipment of potion ingredients was delivered directly to Snape. There were also magical plant seeds, materials for expanding the greenhouses, and subscriptions to various academic journals and books for the library.
Even Mr. Filch, the caretaker, received three self-cleaning, enchanted brooms.
When Hagrid frantically sought out Dumbledore, clutching a small portion of the high-quality animal feed that had just been delivered, the school's administration finally realized something was up. The source of the money was easy to trace—it included practically every pure-blood family. But the fact that they had paid up without demanding anything in return? That was completely out of character for them.
Dumbledore thought for a moment, glanced at the donor list again, and finally summoned Owen to his office.
The old wizard and the young wizard talked for over two hours.
When Owen completed his rotation through all four Houses, the school year came to an end. After seeing off all the students, Professor McGonagall hurried back to the castle, only to find that the young wizard she had been fretting over was gone. Also missing was the Headmaster, Dumbledore.
Blast it!
The old man beat me to it!
McGonagall's expression soured instantly, but there was nothing she could do. She had absolutely no idea where that meddlesome old wizard had taken the boy.
---
Crack!
With a soft pop, the old man and the young boy appeared in the middle of nowhere.
Owen looked around curiously. "Where is this?"
"Nurmengard..." A shadow seemed to pass over Dumbledore's face, making his expression unreadable. "I brought you here to ask an old friend to teach you for six months."
A silver-haired old man appeared. The moment he saw Dumbledore, his eyes locked onto the boy beside him. He let out a laugh that bordered on manic.
"Dumbledore! Let me guess. Has this little boy committed the same crimes I did?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, my friend. In some ways, Mr. Corlett is even more dangerous than you."
The silver-haired man paused, then scrutinized the boy. He stared for a long time but couldn't see anything particularly dangerous about the little fellow. Just then, a white phoenix flew down from the sky, circled once, and landed on the boy's shoulder.
This...
"Legilimens."
Dumbledore tapped his wand to his own temple, extracted a silvery strand of memory, and flicked it toward the other man. The silver-haired wizard didn't resist. He let the memory enter his mind. A moment later, his eyes widened in shock as he stared at the motionless boy.
"Six months, Gellert. Owen will study under you here for six months. I'll come back for him then."
Owen wasn't surprised. Dumbledore had briefed him beforehand. To him, it was just a study abroad program. Probably a good thing.
The silver-haired wizard burst into laughter. "Hahaha! Dumbledore, you want me to teach him? Good! Good! Aren't you afraid..."
He didn't finish the sentence because his gaze fell back on the white phoenix on the boy's shoulder. A corporeal Patronus. With a guardian like that, Dark Magic wouldn't be able to corrupt the boy's mind.
Owen looked at the old wizard and smiled. "You must be Mr. Gellert Grindelwald. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Grindelwald's expression darkened slightly. "The pleasure might be premature."
Heh, the old man has jokes?
Owen ignored the comment and looked around at the surroundings, frowning. "It's definitely... lacking."
Grindelwald was technically imprisoned here, but it was more of a self-imposed exile. He had grown weary of the world and didn't care much about his living conditions.
But for Owen, this was unacceptable. It was worse than his old home. Poor as it was, at least his old place didn't have drafts.
The young wizard sprang into action. Under Grindelwald's astonished gaze, he began renovating the cell.
Holes in the wall? Easy fix with simple Transfiguration. The color scheme too drab? No problem. He had brought his Devil's Snare with him. In seconds, Milov began decorating the room with lush vines. Gloomy items like random bones were tossed out immediately.
"Scourgify, Scourgify, Tergeo, Aguamenti..."
Watching the boy cast simultaneous wandless spells with practiced ease—transforming the grim cell in the blink of an eye—Grindelwald couldn't sit still any longer.
"What are you doing?"
"Cleaning, sir."
Owen didn't stop. Once the place was spotless, he cast a Lighting Charm to give the room a warm, cozy glow. Then, he pulled several potted plants out of a bag and arranged them around the room.
"Are you finished?"
Grindelwald's voice had dropped an octave. He was clearly getting annoyed.
"Not yet, sir."
Owen continued pulling things out of his bag, revealing items that genuinely surprised the old wizard.
Books. Dozens of books. And countless notebooks. Under the young wizard's direction, they stacked themselves neatly in a corner.
Only after finishing everything did Owen turn around to face the gloomy old wizard.
"Sir, what is the first spell you're going to teach me?"
Grindelwald's mouth twitched. He started to wonder if too much time had passed. Had history whitewashed his reputation?
Otherwise, why would a child be this brazen in front of him?