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After a good sleep, his head stopped spinning and his legs weren't sore anymore. But just as he stepped out to find some food, he froze dead in his tracks.
Right outside his door was a massive crowd. Old and young, men and women—all of them had completely stoic faces. The way they stared at him was like a loan shark glaring at a deadbeat debtor. Not a single trace of emotion, just pure, heavy gloom.
"Are you Owen Corlett?"
Owen didn't rush to answer. Instead, he pulled out his main wand from his pocket and tapped the tip against the ground.
Blue Fiendfyre erupted instantly, expanding outward at breakneck speed. It swept right through the crowd's bodies before dissipating in the distance.
This specific trick was something only two people in the entire wizarding world could pull off. One was the old Dark Lord, Grindelwald, who used this exact method back in the day to weed out his loyal followers. The other was now Owen. After Owen had completely mastered the Fiendfyre Curse, Grindelwald had taught him this exact move—clearly, the old man had been preparing for this day for a long time.
But looking at it now, these people's loyalty to the old Dark Lord hadn't wavered in the slightest. Not a single one of them had been burned. Seriously, were they just brainwashed fanatics at this point?
The Fiendfyre Curse—both the color of the flames and the way it was cast—instantly awakened the crowd's memories. Without a second's hesitation, they dropped to their knees before Owen. Many of them looked incredibly worked up, the dead numbness in their eyes shifting into a burning, fanatical fervor.
The only fly in the ointment was that the boy had black hair. If only it were platinum blonde...
"Everyone, get up."
Owen gave his wand a casual wave before shoving it back into his pocket, using a mass Hover Charm to haul everyone back to their feet.
"Don't rush to pledge your undying loyalty just yet. Hear me out first."
Owen went to sit down, and the stone floor smoothly transfigured into a chair, catching him perfectly.
"While I did learn Dark Magic from Grindelwald, I don't buy into his ideology. Times have changed."
That opening line instantly morphed their burning gazes into sheer shock.
"I'm not going to try and conquer the fucking world. It's too exhausting, and I have zero interest in it. However, making literal mountains of Galleons to upgrade our standard of living? That, I am very interested in. I don't know how long it's been since you all had contact with the outside world, so let me put it this way: the current wizarding world, in my eyes, is rotten to the core. It's so utterly fucked that I have no desire to rule it. Instead of wasting time and energy taking over a dumpster fire, I'd rather build something entirely new from the ground up. And that is exactly what I am doing."
"This kind of thing isn't accomplished in one or two generations. It might take four, or even longer. Therefore, I am giving you a choice: you can either walk away right now, or you can opt in."
This massive info dump hit them fast and hard. For a moment, it was too much for them to process. But in the heavy silence, someone finally spoke up.
"Lord Owen, if we choose not to join you..."
"My life would be a hell of a lot easier."
Owen's response was instant, even a bit ruthless. He practically pointed at their noses and told them they were dead weight. But then he shifted gears.
"You are the old man's subordinates. You've been loyal for decades, maybe even half a century. Now that the old man is retiring, I won't just leave you out in the cold. So, even if you decide to walk away, you'll be given a hefty severance package. Enough to ensure you live comfortably without any issues."
If they were on the same side, then loyalty deserved a proper payoff.
These people had followed the old Dark Lord for decades. Even during his decades of self-imprisonment, they hadn't disbanded. They had simply gone underground, waiting for the call.
"I'm in! Even if I'm old, I still have sons, and grandsons!"
Once someone made the first move, the rest was easy. Only five people chose to walk away. And Owen didn't give them a hard time at all. He pulled out the Galleons he had prepared beforehand, handed the money to them personally, and sincerely thanked them on behalf of the old Dark Lord.
"My Lord, what is our next move?"
"Simple. Just follow my orders."
Upon returning to the UK, Owen didn't head back to the castle. Instead, he went straight to the Ministry of Magic and found an exceptionally high-spirited Minister Fudge.
"Owen!"
Fudge was practically buzzing with excitement.
"My god, do you know? You were right about everything! So many people are looking highly upon me now!"
Owen chuckled softly.
"Looking highly upon you? That's not enough, Minister Fudge. You don't need people to just 'think highly' of you; you need their absolute submission and loyalty. Coincidentally, I happen to know some incredibly powerful friends. I was thinking... they could join the Auror Office and form a special task force. One that answers only to the Minister."
With that, he clapped his hands lightly. A group of wizards, all under the age of thirty, filed into the room. These were the third-generation members of the old Dark Lord's faction—young, highly capable assets meticulously handpicked by Owen.
The only issue was that they weren't really used to smiling, so just standing there, they looked somewhat intimidating.
"This..."
"Minister, power only truly matters when it's firmly in your own hands. For our upcoming plans, you are going to need them."
Fudge's eyes lit up.
"Excellent! Are there more?"
"There are."
Another group walked in. These individuals were noticeably older. It was worth noting that being a wizard was a lot like being an old-school physician—the older you got, the more skilled and dangerous you became. Because wizards had extended lifespans, they came of age at seventeen and were still in their prime at sixty. Someone like Dumbledore, well over a hundred years old, was at the absolute peak age to play the role of a Dark Lord.
"Minister, you can arrange positions for these gentlemen as you see fit. They don't need high-ranking titles, but they must answer exclusively to you. It won't be long before you won't need anyone to 'look highly' upon you ever again."
Fudge's blood was pumping. He might have been a mediocre Minister, but he knew the Ministry inside and out. He quickly arranged posts for everyone Owen brought in, having them clock in that very day.
"My dear Owen, are we... are we really going to do this? As you know, the Ministry's budget is a bit tight right now."
If he could, Owen really wanted to press his wand right against Fudge's fat face and hit him with a point-blank Killing Curse!
"Minister, money is the least of our worries. Think about it. How many Ministries of Magic are there in the entire world? If the British Ministry of Magic were to oversee and manage other countries and regions, do you really think we'd be broke? What you need to do right now is recruit more personnel and violently expand our sphere of influence."
"I understand. But Owen, you have to help me. I... I can't possibly recruit that much manpower on such short notice."
"Of course, Minister. I will slowly gather the necessary assets. For now, let's initiate our plan."
With the Sirius Black situation resolved, the next step was a brutal purge of Dark Wizards in the UK, heavily focused on Knockturn Alley. The objective was simple: drive the Dark Wizards out of British territory completely, thereby secretly applying massive pressure on the pure-blood families harboring ulterior motives.
Meanwhile, the pure-blood families who had aligned themselves with Owen early on—thanks to their children—were living comfortably. The market was finite; when one group was forced out, another naturally swooped in to fill the vacuum.
The biggest player in this new power bloc was the Malfoy family, the very first to swear fealty to Owen. Lucius Malfoy was incredibly busy these days. He was constantly networking between various pure-blood families while simultaneously hunting down the items on Owen's list.
That's right, the hunt for the Horcruxes hadn't stopped; it was continuously running in the background. It had just been delegated to Lucius and Sirius. Lucius was tracking down other items, while Sirius was focusing heavily on Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's Locket.
Finally back at Hogwarts, Owen laid face-down on his bed. His giant cat, Molly, was using her multiple legs to methodically massage his back, applying perfectly even pressure as she stepped back and forth. It was a new trick the big cat had learned, and the results were surprisingly fantastic.