Nicolas Flamel.
Legendary Alchemist, creator of the Philosopher's Stone, and living history book of the wizarding world.
Naturally, his residence was highly classified. In an environment rarely disturbed by outsiders, Owen absorbed alchemical knowledge at a terrifying speed. With an endless supply of materials and ample opportunities for hands-on practice...
When Dumbledore returned, he was struck dumb by the sight of Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel wearing powered exoskeletons.
"Dumbledore, old friend! Care for a cup of tea?"
The Flamel couple were relaxing in their garden, beaming at the arrival of the Headmaster. At their age, fame, power, and wealth meant nothing. Friendship was what they cherished most.
"Certainly, Nicolas. But... what is that?"
"Bionic Exoskeleton Armor. That's the name Owen gave it."
The ancient wizard's expression was pure pride—like a grandfather showing off his grandchild's achievements to a neighbor.
This look of pride struck a nerve with Dumbledore. He had sent the boy here to learn and fix his magical overflow problem, not to be adopted by an immortal alchemist who wouldn't give him back!
"Where is Owen? Still reading?"
"No, he's in the lab. Dumbledore, your timing is impeccable. Trust me, you're going to be shocked by him."
Seeing his old friend wink, Dumbledore chuckled. "Don't tell me he's invented another alchemical contraption?"
"You'll see soon enough."
Before Dumbledore could finish his tea, a deafening roar erupted from the lab, making the old Headmaster jump to his feet.
Nicolas just waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be alarmed. Owen has too much magic. When he goes full throttle to carve an alchemy array, it gets a bit... loud. Perfectly normal."
Normal...?
Are you sure that wasn't the sound of something exploding?
A moment later, the young wizard emerged. He had grown taller, his hair was longer, and despite the smudge of soot on his face, he looked sharper and more handsome.
"Headmaster?" Owen paused when he saw Dumbledore, then broke into a grin. "I did it!"
It wasn't exactly cutting-edge technology—just an electric wheelchair. But when the person sitting in it wanted to stand, the chair transformed into an exoskeleton suit, providing support and protection for the user.
Watching the young wizard demonstrate it, Dumbledore was stunned. Even Nicolas looked impressed.
While the men marveled, Perenelle Flamel took action. With Owen's help, she quickly mastered the controls. And then...
A six-hundred-year-old woman began drag-racing her wheelchair around the garden.
When modern technological concepts are realized through alchemy and magic, the result is neither purely sci-fi nor purely magical. But it is undeniably real.
Perenelle stood up, and the wheelchair transformed with her, encasing her in a golden, jointed suit of armor. The old woman was delighted. She effortlessly picked up the young wizard and peppered his face with kisses.
---
"My dear boy, alchemy has no end. Keep your passion burning. And remember, I absolutely love your gift."
It was time to leave. The Flamel couple held Owen's hands, giving him endless advice and instructions. Occasionally, they would glance up at Dumbledore with sharp, protective eyes—as if he were a villain coming to snatch away their beloved grandchild.
Dumbledore rubbed his nose awkwardly. Hmm... is my nose crooked?
But they had to go. Owen's birthday was approaching, and he was set to officially enroll at Hogwarts this year. There were procedures to follow.
After leaving the home of the legendary Alchemist, Dumbledore took the young wizard back to his own house. Yes, his home in York.
Dumbledore had asked the house-elves to clean it beforehand, but upon arrival, Owen still filled a bucket with water, grabbed a rag, and began to wipe down the house by hand, without magic.
"Mom and Dad used to do this. Mom said a home only feels warm if you clean it with your own hands."
Hearing the boy's bittersweet tone and seeing his nostalgic smile, Dumbledore let out a long sigh. He knew what the boy needed right now. So he left, giving Owen the space to be alone in his home.
What Dumbledore didn't expect was receiving an invitation from the young wizard as soon as he got back to Hogwarts. Every other professor received one too.
Owen was turning eleven. He was hosting a birthday party at his house.
When the guests arrived bearing gifts, they realized Owen had invited quite a few people. One guest, in particular, shocked everyone.
"Gellert. I didn't expect you to come."
The old Dark Lord had been the first to arrive. He showed up the very day he got the invitation. He helped Owen order the cake and decorate the house.
Now that everyone was here, aside from Dumbledore, no one gave Grindelwald a friendly look. When Newt and Tina arrived and saw the old Dark Lord, Newt nearly opened his suitcase right then and there to throw down.
They were eventually calmed down, but then the Niffler leaped out of the case and latched onto Owen's face. It refused to let go.
Then came the real shocker. Jona, the Wampus Cat, walked in carrying a kitten in her mouth and gently placed it in Owen's hands. Newt was floored. Jona had only given birth to two kittens in this litter. And she was giving one to Owen?
This gift was heavy—both literally and metaphorically.
But Jona didn't see it that way. She believed Owen could take care of her child, and her child could help cure the young wizard's loneliness.
So, buried under gifts and surrounded by friends, Owen cooked a feast for everyone. The room watched as the young wizard blew out the candles and made a wish.
The silence after the excitement always feels a bit empty. Owen felt it too, but he had a way to fill the void: reading.
Six months with Grindelwald. Three months with Newt. Over a year with Master Flamel.
Tomorrow, he would be like any normal young wizard. He would enter Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron and receive his first wand.
Owen was just as excited as any other child about this milestone. What he didn't know was that someone had prepared a little surprise for him.
Professor McGonagall arrived right on time. Before she could even knock, the door swung open. The young wizard had been waiting.
Seeing the anticipation on his face, McGonagall gently touched his cheek. "My dear, I imagine you've been waiting for this moment for a long time. By the way, what are those..."
"Magic suppressors. They control the rate of my magical growth."
A flicker of heartache crossed McGonagall's face. "My dear, you don't need those today. There will be many young wizards just like you. You don't need to... try so hard not to stand out."
Owen was obedient. He took off the suppressors and stored them in a pouch with an Undetectable Extension Charm. Then, he proactively took McGonagall's hand.
"Professor, we can go now."