A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 183 Magic Fusion Experiment

When the bell rang to signal the end of get out of class, Owen leaned against the wall, yawned, rubbed his eyes wearily, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Harry, bound like a dumpling by the Binding Charm he had released, was wriggling around on the floor like a caterpillar, struggling and glaring at him with his emerald green eyes.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was in complete chaos, with all sorts of mishaps and shouts filling the air. Professor Lockhart, who had spent the entire class frantically cleaning up the mess left by his students, finally breathed a sigh of relief, hastily announced the end of get out of class, and then slunk out of the classroom.

"Honestly, I thought Lockhart had become a little more reliable these days." Blaise was trying to mend his ripped robe. He glanced at the professor's hurried departure and shrugged, "But he reverted to his old ways in this class."

"At least he forgot to assign homework." Draco crossed his arms and struck a cool pose, showing no remorse for being the culprit who ruined Blaise's robe.

Owen yawned again, his pale, delicate face almost translucent in the sunlight streaming through the window. He squinted and waved his wand, loosening the ropes binding Harry.

"Thank goodness, it's really kind of you to remember to untie me." Harry got up from the ground, full of resentment.

"I'm training your ability to break free from constraints," Owen said lazily, his eyes closed. "You're disappointing me."

"I'll take it as you're telling the truth," Harry said with a dark expression.

After following the bustling crowd out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and enjoying a hearty dinner in the Great Hall, Owen finally recovered from his sleep deprivation and headed alone to the Room of Requirement as usual. His friends were used to it.

Three days have passed since he returned to his own life. Owen has been sending two or three letters to Peter Pettigrew every night, using his fictional identity "Lilith" to seriously discuss the plan to capture Harry Potter.

With the guidance of the diary, Peter Pettigrew's letters felt natural. He always mentioned Hogwarts' current lack of vigilance in his letters, emphasizing that now was the best time to take action, and proposed a simple and straightforward plan. Although there were no twists and turns, direct plans are often more likely to succeed, at least that's how it seemed.

Lilith is inclined to accept this plan and is currently analyzing it based on available information.

Well, Irving stalled for time, intending to use this opportunity to improve himself.

After several months of research and refinement, and with Grindelwald's guidance and explanations, Owen finally made a breakthrough in his magic fusion experiment. He spent two days testing it seven times in the walled space, and all the tests were successful, with no unacceptable side effects remaining.

So tonight he decided to complete the magic fusion experiment in reality.

After walking back and forth along the white wall in front of the House of Requirement three times, a dark black door appeared. Irving pushed the door open and went inside; it was a room that resembled a laboratory.

This is his real secret base at Hogwarts, and the room is fully equipped with all sorts of things.

Directly opposite the door is a row of bookshelves, with books neatly arranged from tallest to shortest according to type, which is pleasing to the eye.

To the left is a row of cabinets, which are categorized and stored various herbs, finished potions, alchemy materials and alchemy items, as well as some magic props, miscellaneous items and a wardrobe with several hooded black cloaks hanging inside.

To the right of the room was the experimental area, with several rows of long tables and a large black suitcase standing in the corner. On the long tables were several crucibles and various kinds of vessels, as well as some strange-looking instruments, and even some grotesque specimens and experimental materials.

Irving went straight to the row of cabinets, took out some herbs and materials, then cleared out a long table and lit a flame under a crucible to preheat it.

Pick up a gleaming silver knife, carefully prepare the herbs and ingredients, then precisely measure the dosage using a balance and measuring cup, and add them step by step to the crucible...

A magical fusion experiment involves using potions and magical rituals to integrate the magical properties of a magical creature into the wizard's own, significantly enhancing their magical or spiritual power. Because this fusion profoundly alters certain characteristics of magic, wizards may gain special abilities in the process; for example, the original Parsleyan may have originated from this.

In several experiments within the Wallfacer Space, Owen successfully gained special abilities twice, with different effects, but neither was particularly useful. Therefore, he didn't have high expectations for such highly random, low-probability events; achieving the desired goal of stimulating magical power was sufficient.

Owen stared intently at the liquid in the crucible, added the last spoonful of moonstone powder, stirred it with his wand for a while, and muttered a few difficult and lengthy incantations.

With the wand stirring, the murky potion slowly became clear as water, shimmering with a faint, light blue light that was pleasing to the eye.

Owen sniffed, catching a faint scent of apples. Satisfied, he drew his wand and clapped his hands. "This step was a success. Next, we'll add the blood of magical creatures..."

He took out a crystal bottle, about the size of a little fingertip, from his pocket. It was half-full of dark red blood. This strange blood glowed faintly like charcoal in a flame, and was gently boiling and undulating.

This vial of blood naturally came from Nyx.

To complete his magical fusion experiment, Owen considered many magical creatures, ultimately choosing the phoenix, even a black, mutated one. In his view, no creature embodied the wonder of magic better than the phoenix, especially its ability to be reborn from the ashes. If he could acquire this special ability… though the possibility was slim, one should always have dreams; what if it came true?

Owen glanced at the bottle, which contained only three or four drops of blood, and shook his head with annoyance, pursing his lips slightly. He had gone to great lengths to get Nyx to bleed, using persuasion, coaxing, and even promising her a lot of rare medicinal herbs as treats before finally succeeding.

Remembering how Nyx bounced around and excitedly ran towards the pile of snacks after the bloodletting, Irving always felt like he'd been tricked.

He shook his head with amusement, pulled out the small wooden stopper from the crystal bottle, and precisely dripped two drops of blood into the crucible.

The liquid suddenly boiled, accompanied by a bubbling sound, and a thick layer of white foam rose up, as if it was about to gush out of the crucible.

Faced with this situation, Owen remained calm, simply waving his wand with practiced ease and continuing to chant the spell. With the strange, light sound of the incantation, the liquid in the cauldron gradually calmed down, the white foam slowly disappeared, and the once clear and transparent liquid turned a dark red, like Nyx's blood, undulating as if alive, looking extremely eerie.

Owen's expression turned serious. He used a small silver knife to cut his left index finger, watching intently as his blood slid down his fingertip and dripped into the cauldron. The liquid rippled, and after a period of vigorous boiling, it quickly returned to its clear, transparent color.

Owen calmly pinched the wound on his finger, quickly poured the brewed potion into a crystal bottle, checked the time with his pocket watch, and then walked out with the potion.

The subsequent rituals would be somewhat disruptive, so he would have to change rooms.

"I need a room where I won't be disturbed by anyone." After circling the House of Requirement three times, Owen entered a new room. It was an empty, circular room with nothing but torches burning around the perimeter, and even the walls appeared smooth and solid.

Owen stood in the middle of the room, took a deep breath, and then downed the potion in his hand in one gulp.

The warm medicine tasted like plain water, but as it slid down his throat, a burning sensation surged from the inside out, making him feel as if he had swallowed a mouthful of scalding hot oil.

Irving frowned in pain, feeling as if a fire had been ignited inside him, the scorching heat spreading from his chest to his limbs, giving him the illusion that he was about to be burned to ashes.

He closed his eyes, raised his wand to his chest, and muttered the difficult incantation in a hoarse voice.

The incantation was long and winding, like some kind of strange chant, but if someone listened carefully, they could hear that it was actually a series of repeated "fusion" in different tones and pauses.

Owen's eyes snapped open, the incantation abruptly ceasing. His body slowly levitated, and a thick, ominous black mist suddenly surged from him, engulfing him in an instant and chilling the surrounding temperature to the bone, as if about to freeze into frost. Silently, black flames ignited within the mist, the scorching flames and the chilling black fog clearly distinct yet gradually merging together.

During this process, Owen's consciousness was exceptionally clear, and even his senses were much sharper than usual. He clearly felt the agonizing pain that made his blood boil, yet his spirit seemed to break free from the shackles of his heavy body, rising lightly and freely upwards, looking down at everything from a strange angle, as if he had fallen into a hazy dream.

An invisible wave suddenly erupted, whipping up a fierce gale that swept in all directions, shattering the torches around the house and their flames into fragments.

A new wave of magical upheaval has begun.

Irving did not succumb to the strange illusion in his mind, skillfully working to rein in the restless mental power that had surged. Soon, the surrounding gale subsided, the black mist dissipated, the flames died down, and his feet once again firmly touched the floor.

"Hmm, everything went smoothly, just like the rehearsal in the wall-facing space."

He blinked, his dark eyes seeming to transform into bottomless black holes, as if trying to suck in all light. He stretched his arms, then slowly waved his wand, casting a few minor spells to assess the increase in his magical power.

"Not bad." Owen clasped his hands together, instantly hiding his wand, then stretched and squinted his eyes contentedly, like a black cat that had eaten and drunk its fill.

He estimated that his current magical power was comparable to that of the deans, but he wasn't sure, since it's difficult to make direct comparisons. In any case, he had made great progress.

"However, I actually gained a special ability..."

Irving's expression suddenly turned strange. He stared at his palm for a moment, then snapped his fingers, and a wisp of black flame emerged from his fingertips.

"Nyx's Flame?" he muttered. "It comes with its own dark magic curse damage, and the strength is not bad. It can be cast without a spell or wand, but it doesn't have the ability of a phoenix to teleport through flames, so it's a bit of a gimmick... Well, something is better than nothing."

This flame is far less damaging and destructive than the Fiendfire spell. Although it is easy to cast, Owen will eventually be able to cast magic without a wand, so this ability is not very useful to him.

"But it's not without its advantages..." Owen was always adept at finding the merits of anything. He played with the flame in his hand for a while, then slowly closed his fingers, holding the flame in his palm. The flame in his hand emitted a scorching heat, but it didn't burn his fingers at all; it was like holding a warm breeze.

Irving pursed his pale lips, his eyes brightening slightly: "At least it's very easy to control."

The flames he created a while ago to send letters could only burn what he wanted to burn, but precise control was very difficult. But the new flames he acquired were as easy to manipulate as his fingers, and when combined, they could create many complex and interesting tricks.

Irving clenched his fist thoughtfully, extinguished the flickering black flame, and then slowly walked towards the exit of the house.

"As expected, I was overthinking things about being reborn from the ashes." His cheeks puffed out slightly.

He left the Room of Requirement and went into a secluded room, lit the fireplace, and mailed a letter that he had prepared beforehand.

Owen stared intently at the rising purplish-black flames in the fireplace, his expression carrying a childlike and excited anticipation, like a child eagerly awaiting a delicious treat.

A moment later, a piece of parchment flew out of the flames, and the cipher text on it, when deciphered, meant: No problem.

Looking at the reply in his hand, Owen wiped his lips and revealed a bright yet slightly eerie smile, exuding a beautiful yet dangerously fatal charm.

"I'm ready," he said softly.

"Well then, I hope this final performance will satisfy you, my dear master."

(End of this chapter)