Ten days at one house, ten days at the next, and another ten at the third. Exactly one month.
The plan was perfect, but reality always throws a curveball. When Owen arrived at the Flamels' residence, he discovered Master Nicolas wasn't home. After asking the house-elf, he learned that the ancient alchemist had taken his wife on a vacation.
No one home? No problem. Owen handed over the gifts to the house-elf and dived straight into the alchemy lab.
He had promised Mr. Filch some alchemical gadgets, and it was better to get them done sooner rather than later.
They didn't need to be overly complex. A Cleaning Charm ring to help the caretaker easily clean the castle. A Levitation Charm ring to help move heavy objects. A Leg-Locker Curse ring to help him catch night-wandering students. Oh, and a Lumos ring so he wouldn't need to carry that oil lamp while patrolling at night.
Tsk tsk. He really was too thoughtful. For the peace of the castle at night and the safety of the active little wizards, he was truly pouring his heart out!
Britain being called an "Alchemy Desert" wasn't without reason.
The lifestyle habits of British wizards were much like Muggles—too laid back. Plus, they all shared a common idol: Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore didn't conquer the British wizarding world with alchemy; he did it with sheer, overwhelming magical power. Consequently, the pursuit of personal magical strength dominated the mindset of the majority.
However, some people chased that strength only to realize they possessed mediocre talent and weren't destined for greatness. Their mindset then shifted: Whatever, Dumbledore is here. Nothing bad will happen.
Far too many wizards held this view, from the Minister for Magic down to first-year students.
As a result, subjects like Alchemy, which required immense talent and hard work, became electives at Hogwarts. At one point, the class couldn't even be held due to insufficient enrollment.
Given this situation, there wasn't a single decent alchemy lab in Hogwarts castle, let alone a good supply of materials.
But Master Nicolas's place was different. It had everything!
Using Mithril as a base, engraving the corresponding runes, and finally setting crystals capable of storing and conducting magic—four magical rings were created. The hardest part was shaping the base and engraving the runes; even a microscopic error meant failure.
Mr. Filch was a Squib. He possessed magic, but he couldn't channel it out to form spells on his own. These rings changed that. Once worn, the crystals on the rings would slowly draw out and store his latent magic. When he wanted to use a spell, he just needed to trigger the crystal with a pulse of magic. The crystal would then channel the stored energy through the runes, automatically casting the corresponding spell.
This process of constantly cycling his own magic might even cure his condition!
The original plan was ten days, but once he started, things changed. Owen spent a grueling fourteen days on the four rings. The first success was the Leg-Locker Curse ring because its runes were the simplest to engrave. The hardest was the Cleaning Charm ring; the runes barely fit on the band. He failed three times before finally succeeding on the fourth attempt.
"Oh my, that wasn't easy!"
Stepping out of the alchemy lab and basking in the warm sunlight, the young wizard wore a triumphant smile.
If he showed this achievement to the public, countless people would laugh at him. The cost of making just one of these rings far exceeded buying a wand. Plus, Squibs were generally looked down upon. Many treated them like Muggles with a magical background. Extremists even ranked Squibs below "Mudbloods." If a pure-blood family produced one, they often quietly disposed of them or hid them away to avoid shame.
So, developing a market for Squib products was practically impossible and couldn't be done openly.
Owen went to such great lengths to make these for the caretaker for two reasons: first, to help the man, and second, to see if Squibs could be cured. Even if it didn't cure him, treating it as data collection killed two birds with one stone.
"Master Owen, would you like to dine?"
"Yes, please. You know what I like, don't you?"
Owen winked at Dobby the house-elf (no relation to the Malfoy elf, likely just a common name or a translation choice for 'Bean' in the raw). The elf bowed with a smile and vanished. Moments later, a huge bowl of ramen appeared before the young wizard.
No choice...
This was Master Nicolas's home. The combined age of the two elders was nearly three times the history of the United Kingdom itself. At that age, they needed softer food!
Even Dumbledore wouldn't dare offer Master Nicolas beef jerky—not because he didn't eat beef, but for fear of breaking the poor man's teeth or digestion.
This ramen recipe was brought by Owen. The Flamel couple loved it. It tasted good, was easy to digest, and didn't require much chewing.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!
A teenager's appetite naturally dwarfed that of the elderly. Hugging a bowl twice the size of his head, Owen drank the last drop of broth, wiped his mouth, and gave Mr. Bean a big thumbs-up.
To the house-elf, this was the highest praise imaginable. He was so happy he started wiping away tears.
The young wizard sighed. House-elves were great in every way, except they cried too easily...
After eating, the young wizard left. He was heading back to his own home. Half of the summer vacation was already gone. Now that the "Comfort the Elderly Tour" was complete, he needed to study properly. He planned to review the sixth and seventh-year textbooks first, then focus specifically on Potions to avoid being disdained by Professor Snape when school started.
Back home, the environment was instantly quiet.
When the young wizard read, Molly wouldn't disturb him. Even if she wanted to fight Whitey, she'd take it outside so as not to bother Owen.
Over the past month, he had received quite a few letters. A certain young witch's letters accounted for a third of them, all filled with various questions. Owen spent some time answering each of Hermione's questions in detail, then sent Whitey to deliver the replies.
As for the other letters...
Mrs. Weasley's letter needed a reply. The giant Headmistress's letter needed a reply. The letter from the alchemist witch needed a reply...
So busy!
Naturally, he couldn't make Whitey deliver all these letters one by one. So Owen bought a lot of fresh meat and invited the local owls to help with the deliveries.
Among them, a particularly large Snowy Owl stayed behind after delivering a letter. She stayed in Owen's house, sleeping during the day and hunting for food at night. She was quiet and well-behaved. Occasionally, when the young wizard was tired from studying, she would land on his chair, letting him rest his head against her soft feathers.
Until one day, someone from the Ministry of Magic came to Owen's house to collect her...
When the official left, they took ten Galleons with them—Owen's payment for hiring Sasha (the Snowy Owl) to deliver letters.
Actually, Owen wanted to buy her and make her his exclusive messenger. But Sasha was a Ministry-designated international liaison owl—a civil servant. She wasn't for sale...