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The dragons were very obedient, so the sanctuary staff now had only one job: watch Owen like a hawk and absolutely do not let him smuggle a dragon out.
During the day, Owen gave the dragons physical examinations. These massive creatures were combative by nature, so they were covered in injuries both big and small, and some even had old, hidden wounds. All of these needed treatment.
Of course, taking a little blood and flesh during the treatment process was just standard procedure.
Although the dragons suffered momentarily, they felt much better after being treated. Take the Dragon King of the sanctuary, for instance. It had been coughing constantly. While it didn't affect its power, it was certainly uncomfortable. But after Owen's treatment, it found itself feeling much better.
This Ironbelly, known for having the worst temper, was now incredibly affectionate toward Owen. It even wanted to give him its treasure hoard. Owen declined, however, promising to bring them gifts next time instead.
This moved the dragons beyond belief. even though the treatment process was excruciatingly painful, they gritted their teeth and endured it.
At night, Owen took his pile of materials and began formulating various dragon potions. The main ingredient was dragon blood, combined with flesh and blood from different parts of the dragon.
Using the wing root would make a person grow dragon wings.
Using the tail would make a person grow a dragon tail.
Using leg meat would result in dragon legs or arms.
Owen had considered whether it was possible to turn a person into a complete dragon. However, after adding flesh and blood from every part of the dragon, the effect was simply too potent. The human body couldn't withstand it; the moment the transformation began, the violent medicinal power would cause the body to explode.
If the human body couldn't handle such high-intensity medicinal power, was there another way?
Owen wanted to use alchemy to complement the potions, but the Dragon Sanctuary lacked the necessary conditions for alchemy, so he had to shelve that idea for now.
He stayed for twenty days straight. After leaving a sufficient supply of dragon potions for the sanctuary staff, Owen finally packed his things, ready to return to Hogwarts. He had been away for over a month; he wondered what state his home was in. It was time to go back and check.
At the airport, Owen walked in dressed fashionably and empty-handed. He picked up his ticket, went through the check, and just as he was boarding the plane, a large bald man walked past him.
Their eyes met for a split second as they crossed paths, and both stopped.
The bald man stared into Owen's eyes for a long moment before suddenly smiling. "Wizard?"
Owen nodded. "Yes. And you are—"
"I'm Kaulder. I'm a—Witch Hunter."
"Heh..." Owen suddenly laughed. "Let's board first. We can chat on the plane."
"Sure."
Owen was flying directly back to the UK, while this Witch Hunter had a layover in the UK before flying back to the US.
During the journey, Owen learned that "wizard" was just a general term to him. The wizards Owen knew were those with magical power who waved wands to cast spells.
However, from this Witch Hunter, he learned there was another kind of "wizard"—composed of non-human but humanoid creatures. And this was the kind the Hunter hunted.
"Mr. Hunter, I have an idea. Next time you go hunting, could you catch some live ones and sell them to me? As you know, I'm a student and Teaching Assistant at a magic school. We have a class called Defense Against the Dark Arts. The textbooks for this class haven't been updated in a long time. If we could have some new magical creatures, it would broaden the students' knowledge."
Kaulder found this quite novel. He had only learned today that not only was there another kind of wizard, but they also had a complete educational system, even schools, that had existed for over a thousand years.
He found it fascinating and felt it was worth looking into.
Of course, he now realized that what he had been fighting and killing all these years weren't wizards at all, but rather—
Magical Creatures.
Upon arriving in the UK, the two exchanged contact information. Or rather, only Kaulder left a phone number. Owen, conveniently being in Diagon Alley, bought him an owl.
Looking at the owl in his hand, Kaulder was a bit stunned. "I still feel... a phone is more convenient."
Owen sighed. "Can't help it. Modern technology and magic aren't compatible yet—at least not right now. So even if you call, I can't pick up. We can only communicate using the most primitive method."
"Alright... but I live in the US permanently. This little guy—"
"Don't worry, he's very robust. He's small now, but once he grows up, flying from the US to here will be like child's play."
The little owl was still a chick, but it would grow fast. In a few months, it would be a large owl. Kaulder had never raised one, so he naturally didn't know this.
The two parted ways. The Hunter boarded his plane to the US, while Owen returned to Hogsmeade first, changed back into his wizard robes, and then unhurriedly returned to Hogwarts.
It was already very late, but the house-elves still served him a fragrant meal. They only left happily after watching Owen eat every last bite.
"Long time no see, Milov. Nothing happened, right?"
A vine gently tapped his shoulder a few times, then began to help him unpack, especially the crates upon crates of potions. It moved them steadily and quickly.
Owen didn't pay attention to any of that. He had already collapsed onto his bed. The conditions at the Dragon Sanctuary hadn't been great; the beds were particularly hard. If he hadn't been exhausted, he wouldn't have been able to sleep at all.
Just as he was drifting off, he suddenly felt something furry. Without thinking, he scooped it up with both hands, hugged the big cat into his arms, and fell into a deep sleep.
The castle at night was eerie and quiet, save for the occasional adventurous little wizard.
Mr. Filch had reduced the frequency of his night patrols; he didn't have much interest in catching disobedient students anymore.
Of course, if he did catch one, he wouldn't be vicious, nor would he report them to the professors. He would simply hand over his patrol duties to the caught student and go back to sleep himself.
As for whether the student could catch others, that wasn't the caretaker's concern. What he valued most now was the castle's hygiene.
Mr. Corlett loved a clean environment, so it had to be maintained.
If nothing else, those thousand-year-old floor tiles should at least be shiny enough to see your reflection in, right?