Hmm. Judging from the descriptions, the best way to handle this starter pack is to use the potion first, then the crafting style roulette ticket, and save the forge access for last, Julian decided, staring thoughtfully at the test tube of green liquid.
Ah, screw it.
He braced himself, snatched up the tube, pulled out the cork, shut his eyes, and swallowed the potion in one go.
He waited.
One second.
Then another.
And another.
Nothing.
Julian opened one eye, then the other, frowning down at the now empty tube. He did not feel any different at all.
Was that it? he thought in disbelief.
The answer arrived with painful clarity a moment later.
A strange pulse throbbed in his stomach. Then another. And another. With each beat, it felt as if liquid fire spread out through his veins, creeping along them like ivy made of molten metal.
Agony exploded across his entire body. It was like a swarm of fire ants was biting every inch of his skin from the inside. The torment dragged on for what felt like an eternity, but in reality lasted about a minute before cutting off as abruptly as it had begun.
The moment the pain vanished, Julian realized there was a very real change.
He could see it.
The Galleons piled nearby were wrapped in a faint glow, lines of something ethereal clinging to them. He could sense the same energy inside himself, flowing in a steady but feeble current. It was his magic, quiet but present, finally visible to his senses.
Julian had already pieced together that he was in the world of Harry Potter from all the hints so far, but he did not remember anything in the books describing a phenomenon like this. That meant the potion was probably far more precious than he had first assumed, which made him regret drinking it so casually.
Too late now. One opportunity gone, another gained. No use whining about it, he told himself, letting out a small sigh. Next up is the crafting style ticket.
Carefully, Julian reached for the red ticket with the roulette wheel design. He drew in a slow breath to steady himself and then tore it cleanly in half.
This time, there was spectacle.
Thick mist gushed from the torn pieces, billowing outward until it filled the entire room, so dense that Julian could barely see his own hands. Then it suddenly collapsed inward with a loud, echoing pop, leaving behind a roulette wheel that seemed to have an uncountable number of tiny sections. A red pointer waited at the top, ready to tick its way around.
Now we are talking. Let us do this.
Julian grinned, grabbed the edge of the wheel, and yanked it down with all the strength his small body could muster.
"BRRRRRRRRRR!"
The wheel spun furiously, the pointer snapping over the pegs as they whipped past. It turned for a long, dizzying moment before gradually slowing down. Eventually, it came to a stop on a blue-colored section.
[CONGRATULATIONS ON RECEIVING THE CRAFTING STYLE: CELEBRIMBOR!]
Hold on. Celebrimbor, as in the Celebrimbor from The Lord of the Rings?* Julian thought, stunned.
The wheel instantly burst apart into a cloud of mist that surged straight toward him. It shot up his nose and down his throat, suffocating for a split second before it sank into him.
Knowledge slammed into his skull. The basics of the crafting style carved themselves directly into his mind, and a brutal headache flared behind his eyes.
"Fuck," he groaned softly, clutching his head. This thing might as well be called the abuse system with how it keeps tearing me up.
He sat there, breathing through the pounding ache, and made a practical decision.
I will leave the forge ticket for tomorrow. Hard to focus with my brain trying to escape through my eye sockets.
Julian gathered up the remaining items, found a loose board in the floor of his closet, and tucked them into the small hollow space beneath it. Once everything was hidden, he carefully put the board back into place and removed the makeshift lock from his door.
...
The night was anything but restful.
As soon as he fell asleep, his dreams were hijacked by vivid, painfully detailed images of an elf at a forge. The elf, whose aura practically radiated skill, hammered glowing metal and spoke calmly about every movement, every technique, every principle behind the work.
Whenever Julian thought of a question, the elf answered it seamlessly, never pausing his crafting. The entire thing played out like an interactive lesson, more real than any lecture he had ever attended.
When Julian woke up the next morning, he wore a bitter smile.
Apparently, he was going to be studying even in his sleep now.
...
He dressed in his slightly-too-big clothes, slung his bag over his shoulder, and stepped out of his room. Today was his first official day of school in this new life. Since he was legally underage, the authorities had wasted no time enrolling him.
Julian was not excited. Not even a little.
Before dying and waking up as a ten-year-old, he had been twenty-seven and working on his master's degree in chemistry. Being forced into primary school again felt like academic torture. The material would be so far below his real level that it might as well have been designed to physically hurt his brain.
What he did not expect was the company he would find there.
He ended up placed in the same class as Harry Potter and his cousin Dudley Dursley.
Julian stood out the moment the teacher introduced him. It was hard not to with a huge scab stretching across part of his forehead, ugly yellow and brown bruises staining his skin, and short, uneven gray hair that had only just started to grow back in the week he had spent at the orphanage.
Even so, when he had the chance, Julian went out of his way to treat Harry kindly during class. He spoke to him like a normal person, partner instead of pariah.
He could see the effect instantly. Harry seemed to brighten from the inside out, his whole demeanor lightening as the day went on. Being treated with simple friendliness clearly meant a lot to him.
Sometimes, just being accepted is enough, Julian thought quietly as he gave Harry a genuine small smile and waved goodbye at the end of the day.