Read my new story (ilham20)
Hogwarts : Black family bloodline...
Hogwarts, my partner is Tom…
Hogwarts : He Starts by Deconstructing Avada Kedavra...
Owen wasn't the first to finish. Simple as the process of adding ingredients and stirring was, he had actually failed twice in the past five days.
The first time, he added too much dragon tooth powder. The second time, too much dragon blood.
Fortunately, after those two failures, he finally nailed the dosage for the two main ingredients. The third attempt was a success. Although no one had tested it yet, the color alone told him it worked.
Up until now, with the exception of a few specific brews, every potion he had successfully created had been a pale blue.
Great. No one has to die.
Before coming here, he and Professor Snape had agreed to create a brand-new potion. They had even deduced the properties of various ingredients together.
But brewing potions is like painting—sometimes you just need a burst of inspiration. Snape couldn't be certain if the final product would match their theoretical deductions, hence the comment about "trying not to kill anyone."
After all, every Potions Master has connections. If you accidentally poisoned one to death, wouldn't the people backing them want revenge?
That was why Snape had suggested the "kill them all" strategy—strictly for the sake of peace and quiet.
But now, that wouldn't be necessary. He didn't know how effective the potion was, but it definitely wouldn't be lethal.
The potion was sealed and set aside. Once the time was up, all the entries would be evaluated on the spot by the masters, scored, and ranked.
None of that was Owen's concern right now. He was currently sitting on the tail of a Chinese Fireball, leaning back against the belly of a Hungarian Horntail, and chatting with a Peruvian Vipertooth on his other side.
Not that anyone else could understand them.
The staff at the Dragon Sanctuary were sweating bullets. They were terrified Owen might just say to the dragons, "This place is boring. Why don't you guys come with me? Let's go play outside."
If these dragons were let loose, it would be a catastrophe.
Luckily, Owen had no interest in raising adult dragons. He was just discussing their preferences with them and taking notes. He planned to give the data to Master Newt to add a few more pages to that forever-updating book of his.
Dark Wizards were generally considered the scourge of the wizarding world, but their existence didn't threaten the fundamental secrecy of magic. Magical creatures, however, were different.
They had no concept of the Statute of Secrecy and followed no rules. Once they appeared, they didn't just hurt wizards; they hurt Muggles too.
Given the nature of Muggles, once these magical beasts appeared, they would follow the clues to find the wizards hiding in the shadows. That would trigger another massive war.
So, dealing with Dark Wizards only required the Aurors of various ministries. But for magical creatures, especially things like dragons, you needed the International Confederation of Wizards.
The two threats weren't even on the same level.
---
"Time's up!"
Potioneers who hadn't finished could continue brewing, but they wouldn't be ranked. If their potions had incredible effects, they might still gain some fame, but they couldn't achieve the title of "Potions Master" in this competition.
The top three who successfully brewed a potion would be awarded the title of Master. Those who ranked after them would earn a qualification for the next competition.
Incidentally, this qualification was transferable. For example, Owen's entry qualification had been transferred from Snape.
"The sixth bottle, from Hogwarts, Mr. Owen Corlett: The Dragon Potion!"
Finally, his turn. Owen perked up. He wasn't interested in the preliminary scores; he wanted to see the final step: the potion's effect.
Ingredient Selection: 8 points (out of 10)
Processing Technique: 9 points (out of 10)
Brewing Process: 8 points (out of 10)
Potion Effect: Max score of 70.
Owen watched the brave soul volunteering to test the potion with admiration. Even Snape wouldn't dare test Owen's potions lightly, yet this warrior treated it like a beverage, downing it in one gulp.
"Not bad. Tastes a bit like vodka..."
Owen nodded secretly. That was a characteristic of dragon blood. It wasn't actually 104 proof, but it certainly had the kick of it.
"Look! Oh my god! He's growing dragon wings!"
While others gasped in shock, Owen was scribbling notes furiously.
The main ingredients were dragon blood and dragon tooth powder, but the success came from the addition of dragon meat. Specifically, meat from the root of Norbert's wing. That was why it caused dragon wings to sprout.
So, what if he swapped it for meat from other parts?
Wizards couldn't just fly on command. Aside from a few specific spells, the most convenient method was a broomstick. But if there was a potion that allowed wizards to temporarily grow dragon wings, what kind of impact would that have?
Potion Effect: 70 points. A perfect score!
With a total score of 95, Owen took first place in the Potions Championship!
From that day on, Hogwarts boasted a Potions Master who was only fourteen years old. Although there were plenty of Potions Masters in the world, Owen's age sparked a frenzy.
The International Confederation of Wizards was already debating which class of the Order of Merlin they should award him to successfully win over this young genius.
Since he was from Hogwarts, they naturally had to discuss it with Dumbledore first.
When the good news reached Britain, the most excited and ecstatic person wasn't at Hogwarts, but at the Ministry of Magic!
Minister Fudge happily leaped onto his desk and, with clumsy dance moves, shook his flabby frame for a solid ten minutes.
Owen was his man. His Senior Assistant. The higher Owen's achievements, the more secure his position as Minister became!
As for whether Owen would threaten his position?
Fudge wasn't worried in the slightest. The kid's achievements were high, sure, but he was still a child. If he wanted to be Minister, he'd have to wait at least twenty years. By then, Fudge would have long since retired.
Where was the threat?
---
The competition ended, but Owen didn't rush back. instead, he stayed at the Dragon Sanctuary. He wanted to test his theories and conduct free clinics for the other dragons.
However, some dragons had tempers that were simply too foul. They were so bad that even Owen's natural affinity with magical creatures didn't have much effect.
So, what do you do in a situation like that?
"Fiendfyre, Clear the Path!"
A stream of blue Fiendfyre grazed the edge of the landscape, vaporizing half a mountaintop. After that, there were no longer any bad-tempered dragons in the entire sanctuary.
Carrying a large medical kit painted with a red cross, Owen smiled with satisfaction as he watched the dragons queue up voluntarily for their checkups.
The sanctuary manager, however, looked worried.
Before, it was just a few dragons. Now, it was all of them...
If this kid suddenly had a brain fart and decided to raise a call to arms, no one would be able to stop him, right?
Dumbledore? That's his Headmaster.
Master Newt? That's his teacher.
Counting them up, all the famous figures in the wizarding world who could possibly stop this boy were extremely close to him. Forget stopping him; it would be a miracle if they didn't jump in to help.