A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 83 A Brilliant Performance

Irving recited the command to the stone wall in front of him, and passed through the slowly opening stone door back into the dimly lit lounge.

The night was already deep, and the common room was empty except for the roaring fire in the fireplace, which kept the place warm and inviting.

Melete, who had been waiting for him in the armchair in front of the fireplace, suddenly opened her round eyes, her large ears twitched, and she abruptly jumped from the soft chair onto the table. She sat there quietly, her golden vertical pupils staring straight at him, her round and cute cat face showing a hint of wariness and unfamiliarity.

Owen tilted his head and sized her up, approaching step by step until he stopped a step away from the little cat, staring at her indifferently with a blank expression on his face.

Melete's large ears stood erect, her long tail swayed from side to side, and her pink little nose twitched. After a moment, she cautiously took a step closer to Owen, sniffed, then relaxed and lightly jumped towards him. Her four little paws were slightly open, revealing pink paw pads.

Owen reached out and pulled her into his arms, a gentle smile suddenly spreading across his face. He softly stroked the warm, fluffy little dumpling, pinched her big ears and paw pads, and whispered, "Good evening, Melete. I'm so glad you don't hate me."

Melete looked up at him helplessly, swatted away Owen's hand that was pinching her paw, let out a soft "meow," rubbed her head against his chest, and purred politely.

"Meow!" She was hungry! In less than three seconds, she revealed her true form.

Owen rummaged through his pockets but couldn't find any food that Melett liked. In the end, he only pulled out a few dried fish that were left over from feeding Lady Loris...

"Meow!" You already have me, so why are you still thinking about other cats, and even have other cats' food in your pocket!

Melett looked up at Owen in disbelief, as if she had been betrayed. She swatted the dried fish out of Owen's hand with her paw, bit his finger with her baby teeth, then jumped proudly from his arms and ran away with graceful and swift steps.

"Oh, what a cute little guy," Owen said with a smile, then sat down in the armchair.

Although it was very late, he was not sleepy at all. An indescribable excitement filled his heart, and his inspiration surged forth.

He closed his eyes and sank into the space of facing the wall. His eyes gleamed as he opened the notebook on the table. He glanced at the plan he had written down earlier, pursed his lips, and then tore it into pieces as if it were worthless.

A thousand thoughts swirled in his mind, each collision sparking a brief but exquisite flash of inspiration, as captivating as dazzling fireworks. At this moment, Irving once again entered his own private moment of reflection.

In this utterly silent, pure white space, only a pure white rabbit hopped around in the corner, occasionally glancing at Owen, who was writing furiously, with its red eyes.

At this moment, Irving had forgotten everything around him and where he was. He freely expressed the inspiration in his mind, and a wonderful performance plan gradually took shape under his pen.

"As a good magician and a qualified Slytherin, I used to only think about self-preservation and getting rid of Voldemort. I was so cowardly and unambitious..." He narrowed his eyes. "Voldemort took my family's potion ingredients and robbed the black market. It's only reasonable for me to double-cross him this time."

"Seriously, he actually packed up all the valuable stuff from the black market and took it all away at once. He doesn't understand sustainable development at all," Owen muttered.

"Dumbledore dared to put something as dangerous as Voldemort in the school, how arrogant! He almost got me killed. I really want to teach him a lesson he'll never forget... Hmm, since the Philosopher's Stone will be destroyed anyway..." Owen's eyes lit up. "I want the Philosopher's Stone!"

He knew it was a wild and greedy idea, but once the thought took hold, he could no longer suppress it.

Owen caught a flash of inspiration in his mind and suddenly waved his wand, causing the quill pen to automatically scribble rapidly across the notebook, so fast it was almost a blur.

The magic stone can turn lead into gold and can also be used to make the elixir of immortality.

Of course, this drug doesn't actually make people ageless. Nicolas Flamel lived to be over 660 years old with it, but he was so old that he had osteoporosis and could barely walk. It can be said that this drug only greatly slows down the aging process, extending the time it takes for a person to age to over 500 years, and one cannot stop taking the drug midway through, with the frequency of medication increasing over time.

Despite its flaws, the Philosopher's Stone is undoubtedly a pinnacle of alchemy, and Nicolas Flamel is the only person in the world capable of creating it. In fact, its true value surpasses even the entire wealth of the Shafik family.

"Having taken so much stuff from home, I have to give something back," Owen laughed. "As for Nicolas Flamel, well, I'm sorry, I don't know him well anyway." That way, he wouldn't feel guilty about taking advantage of him.

"To obtain the Philosopher's Stone, I must overcome three major obstacles," he thought.

"First, there's the question of how to get the Philosopher's Stone. If Dumbledore still keeps it in the Mirror of Erised, then without a doubt, I can't get it out. Only someone who wants to find the Philosopher's Stone but doesn't want to use it can retrieve it from the mirror... I can't, and other young wizards might not be able to resist the temptation either..."

"Perhaps we should pin our hopes on that blockhead Harry? Hmm, that's not too difficult, it's just a matter of me secretly guiding him." Owen glanced at the rapidly writing quill, frowning in thought. "Then, the second challenge is Dumbledore."

If he wanted to obtain the Philosopher's Stone, Dumbledore was an obstacle he had to overcome. Irving, who was well-versed in the original books, knew very well that Dumbledore's seemingly childish traps were not actually to protect the Philosopher's Stone, but rather to train and test Harry Potter and his friends.

If he truly wanted to protect the Philosopher's Stone, the Mirror of Erised alone would have left Quirrell and Voldemort helpless.

It's easy to imagine that Dumbledore would be paying close attention to the Philosopher's Stone's obstacles and Harry's safety. He might even have set up some kind of warning system there, so he would know immediately and rush over if anyone broke in.

"In that case, we must find a way to lure Dumbledore away, so he can't get away for a while. Similarly, we need to find something for the other professors to do." Owen closed his eyes. "Quirok and Voldemort can do this very well."

"Then, the last hurdle is the Philosopher's Stone itself." Owen tapped his fingers on the table, making a "thump-thump" sound.

"Although Voldemort confirmed that the Philosopher's Stone hidden under the trapdoor was real, if I were Dumbledore, even if I was confident that the thief couldn't get the Philosopher's Stone, I would still put some measures on it just in case—such as a tracking spell."

"That way, even if the plan goes wrong and the Philosopher's Stone is stolen, I can still trace back to find out who's behind it and stop them in time, or even turn the tables on them..."

Owen looked down at the rabbit that had come close to his feet and narrowed his eyes: "Although I may be overthinking it, since we can't be sure, let's treat it as a fact."

"Hmm, of all the spells Dumbledore set up, there's one that Hogwarts dares to claim can be broken." He smiled knowingly. "Indeed, our dear Dark Lord is quite useful."

The quill pen scribbled across the paper, creating neat rows of letters that were a pleasing sight to behold.

"As for how to send Voldemort back home in the end, that's not difficult at all... Hmm?" Owen's eyes suddenly lit up, and he stroked his chin with interest, his expression becoming more and more excited and expectant. "How about we design a wonderful magic show for him, a perfect fraud... Oh dear, it's a pity there won't be any audience."

The quill brush scraped away several lines of writing, then scribbled down a new plan below, along with a series of simple diagrams.

"Just in case, it's best to keep Harry as a last resort," Owen said thoughtfully.

"Then let's create an organization... I happen to be very good at creating something from nothing."

"Hmm..." He glanced at his notebook where he studied spells, flipped through it haphazardly, and a pleasant smile suddenly appeared on his face.

"Ether... how about we call it the Ether Society, or ES for short?" Owen raised an eyebrow. "ES... Erwin Shafiq, what a strange coincidence."

Looking at the name written in beautiful cursive script on the paper with a quill pen, Owen smiled and rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought.

"Haha, this is going to be a fantastic performance!"

(End of this chapter)