A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 45 Progress

Melett's arrival made Owen's life much more colorful; her soft, milky body always brought him joy and made him forget all his stress.

Owen liked to curl up with her in the armchair in front of the fireplace, the two of them wearing identical languid expressions, enjoying the warm and leisurely time together. Owen would occasionally pick up his teacup and take a sip of fine Ceylon tea, while Melete would take a sip of milk fortified with nutrients.

Of course, Owen wasn't just slacking off; he was mostly focused on the Wallfacer's space, after all, he was now a prospective follower of the Dark Lord.

In the bright, white space, Owen sat upright at his desk, wand in one hand, while a quill pen on the table rapidly wrote lines of text in his notebook.

"Well, if we're just guiding Harry along the original path, it might still work... but with the fax machine causing trouble and the butterfly effect I've brought, the original approach, which is highly unpredictable and relies heavily on luck, is probably not so reliable now."

"Since Harry can be a Slytherin now, why be so reckless? Let him talk to the professor if he has any problems. That would easily send Voldemort back to his old ways, but I'd need to distance myself from the situation." Owen thought for a moment. "That's not difficult. We can explain it to Dumbledore and the others by saying they were under the Imperius Curse, but we need to be careful not to let Voldemort target me..."

"But I have a feeling things won't go that smoothly. Oh well, it's just a matter of improvising."

Irving is adept at improvisation, but as a magician who always prepares thoroughly in advance, he doesn't like things to develop to the point where improvisation is necessary, because that means the unexpected. He prefers to write scripts in advance, control each performance, and manage the audience's psychological changes to deliver a brilliant and perfect show.

Irving licked his lips, his eyes sometimes narrowing dangerously, sometimes darting around with amusement, as the plan in his notebook gradually took shape through revisions.

Let's leave it at that for now.

He stood up and began to practice the spell seriously.

"Armor Protection!" A barely perceptible wave swept past him and vanished without a trace. This attempt, like many before, failed.

"Although I've brushed up on the theoretical knowledge, I still need a lot of practice." Irving rubbed his forehead, practicing again and again.

When he felt a little tired, he took out a book called "The Oblivion Spell: 28 Techniques You Didn't Know" from the bookshelf beside him, turned to the page with the bookmark, and sat down at his desk to read it carefully.

Currently alive, the rabbit Muse hopped over to Owen's side and started gnawing on his fingers, her red eyes still looking rather dim-witted.

Owen stuffed some rabbit treats he'd copied from outside into her hand, then raised his wand and pointed it at Muse: "Forget everything!"

The rabbit paused, about to put the snack in its mouth, then closed its mouth blankly and tilted its head. Upon seeing the snack in front of it, it eagerly opened its mouth again.

"Forget everything, and all is emptiness!"

The rabbit paused again, shut its mouth, tilted its head, saw the snack, and opened its mouth...

"Forget everything, and all is emptiness!"

Watching Muse repeat her previous actions over and over again as if in a replay, Owen nodded in satisfaction and put away his wand.

After splitting his memories last time, although the feeling of having his thoughts fragmented was extremely uncomfortable, this experience greatly inspired Owen, allowing him to make rapid breakthroughs in the Obliteration Curse and Occlumency.

The fragmentation of memories made Owen truly realize the existence of "memory," which allowed him to directly master the Forgetfulness Spell after understanding the relevant theoretical knowledge. Although he can only make people forget and cannot change other people's memories now, it is already a breakthrough from zero to one.

For Owen, the isolation of memories was a valuable experience with Occlumency. He began to understand how to seal his memories and thoughts within a solid barrier. Of course, this was far from enough. At the stage where he could only block out prying eyes but could not fake false memories and thoughts, the Legilimency could instantly confirm that he was using Occlumency.

"He's already made great progress, we can't push him too hard." Irving's mindset was very calm; his progress was enough to astound everyone.

This is the result he deserves. After all, which wizard in reality would dare to treat their own thoughts and memories so brutally? Anyone who dares to do this is either stupid or crazy, and even if they succeed by chance, they will probably suffer lifelong consequences.

Thursday arrived leisurely. The fax machine hadn't been discovered by Owen's men for the past few days, and Quirrell hadn't bothered him either. Owen leisurely attended classes and tended to his cat. Melett ate well and slept soundly; its light brown fur was even softer and shinier, gleaming with a silky sheen.

Besides feeding Melett, Owen also pickled a lot of small dried fish that Melett vehemently rejected using a harmless salting agent. Whenever he saw Lady Lorris in the corridor, Owen would stop and feed her some. Thanks to his consistent feeding, Lady Lorris gained a little more weight from her thin body, and her dull fur became much more vibrant.

Mrs. Lorris's attitude towards Owen improved considerably. Sometimes, when she saw him scattering playing cards or colored paper all over the hallway, she would turn a blind eye and reluctantly leave him alone as long as he cleaned it up. Mr. Filch seemed to have tacitly approved of Owen's affection for his beloved cat, though occasionally he would stare intently at Owen's back with his bulging eyes, as if afraid he might poison his cat.

Owen had already sent a considerable amount of the herbs he promised to Quirrell, but since some of the herbs were rarely used and the shops were out of stock, it would take some time to gather them all. He figured he had no desire to go into that filthy office that reeked of garlic.

By Thursday noon, the first-year wizards were all getting restless. They were having their flying lesson that afternoon, and who wouldn't want to ride a flying broomstick through the sky?

Just before class started, Draco Malfoy boasted loudly, "I have a Comet 260 at home, and Dad never remembers to buy me a Nimbus 2000. I love riding my flying broomstick alongside an eagle, and you can even reach out and touch its wings..."

"I don't know, Hermione said flying on a broomstick isn't an easy thing." Harry, infected by Hermione's nagging in the library, was absentmindedly flipping through a copy of "Quidditch" that Hermione had forced on him, but couldn't read a single word.

"Granger?" Draco turned his head and glanced at him, his expression a mixture of rejection, disgust, and a hint of confusion. "Why are you hanging out with her? She's..."

Daphne's voice interrupted him: "We should go now, or we'll be late."

Draco shut his mouth in displeasure, his gray eyes darting around, seemingly plotting some wicked idea.

(End of this chapter)