"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!"
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Lucien was having the time of his life. He swung a metal grappling hook, his arm flicking with precision. The claw latched onto a sturdy tree branch, gears whirring as the chain retracted, launching his body into the air.
Mid-flight, he released the hook and flung it toward another branch, zipping between the trees like a proper Spider-Man cosplayer in the heart of the Forbidden Forest. Lucien was grinning like a kid who'd just unwrapped the best Christmas present ever.
When he finally landed smoothly on the ground, he reeled in the grappling hook with a faint shimmer of light. In an instant, the hook transformed back into a brass-colored pocket watch.
Click.
He popped open the watch's cover and glanced at the dial. Instead of numbers or ticks, the face was divided into twelve equal sections, each etched with a different symbol. One section showed a sword, another a shield, another the grappling hook, while some remained blank.
Unlike a standard watch with hour, minute, and second hands, this one had just a single needle, currently resting between two sections at the top.
This was the Transfiguring Pocket Watch.
Lucien could inscribe up to twelve different Transfiguration spells onto it. And the best part? These weren't permanent. He could swap them out whenever he liked. According to its description, the transformations were semi-permanent, lasting as long as Lucien periodically infused the watch with magic. The inscribed effects would hold steady.
Click-clack.
Lucien pressed a button on the side of the watch, channeling magic while picturing an object from one of the sections. In a flash, the pocket watch morphed into a spinning, gear-laden brass shield, large enough to cover his entire body.
"Nice," he muttered. The transformation was lightning-fast. All it took was a bit of magic and a clear image of the inscribed object.
Way more convenient than casting Transfiguration spells with a wand.
Speaking of wands…
Lucien held the shield in his left hand and drew his wand with his right. He pointed it at a nearby rock and flicked his wrist. "Confringo!"
The rock exploded, shards flying everywhere. The blast startled the creatures in the Forbidden Forest, sending a chorus of squawks and howls echoing through the trees.
Here's the kicker: using the pocket watch didn't interfere with casting spells at all. In fact, something like the shield could block weaker spells or curses that required a physical barrier.
This was how a wizard should fight! Why leave one hand empty, doing nothing?
It hit him—hadn't Godric Gryffindor fought like this? Lucien recalled a book he'd read about the four Hogwarts founders. Godric Gryffindor, the legendary dueling master, wasn't just a wizard with unmatched magical skill. He was a master swordsman, too. The stories said he'd wield a sword in one hand and a wand in the other, using magic to disrupt his opponent before closing in for a fatal strike.
Lucien smirked. Gryffindor's famous relic was that massive sword, after all. It wasn't just some decorative piece. Harry Potter had used it to slay a basilisk, and Neville Longbottom had chopped off Nagini's head with it. Talk about a family tradition of sword-wielding heroics.
Lucien shifted the shield back into the pocket watch and pressed the button again. This time, it transformed into a sleek, razor-sharp metal longsword, glinting in the moonlight.
One small downside: every transformation had to revert to the pocket watch first. But the speed was so fast that with good timing, it wasn't a big deal.
He twirled the sword in a flashy arc, the blade slicing through the air with a satisfying whoosh. Thanks to Aunt Penelope hiring a fencing tutor, Lucien was no stranger to swordplay. The blade felt natural in his hand, but he frowned slightly.
There was still a catch. Wizards rarely fought up close. Keeping some distance was usually the smarter move.
A pure-blood wizard might've thought of a crossbow at this point, but Lucien? He was Muggle-born—and a time-traveler to boot. His mind went elsewhere.
He turned the sword back into the pocket watch and popped open the cover. Pointing his wand at the watch, he pictured something new: a grip, a firing pin, rifling, a cylinder…
When the symbol on one of the sections solidified, Lucien grinned and pressed the button. The pocket watch vanished, replaced by a sleek, brass-colored revolver with clean, hard lines.
He waved his wand, transfiguring a small pebble into a bullet and loading it into the cylinder. Taking aim at a tree trunk, he pulled the trigger.
Bang!
He inspected the scorched bullet hole in the bark, nodding thoughtfully. The revolver packed the punch of a standard handgun, but it wasn't enough. In wizard duels, everyone layered themselves with protective charms and shields. A regular bullet wouldn't cut it.
Still, Lucien had ideas. With some alchemy, he could craft special bullets infused with magical effects. Sure, magic itself—endless and profound—was the real game-changer. He wasn't delusional enough to think a little revolver could take down someone like Voldemort. But if it could distract an opponent, even for a split second, that could tip the scales in his favor.
He glanced down at his hands, one holding the wand, the other the gun. "Now this is more like it," he said with a grin. "A new kid's shaking up the dueling scene."
…
Tucking the pocket watch away, Lucien headed back to Hagrid's hut. He played with Fang for a bit before grabbing a small hoe and strolling into the vegetable garden.
Weaving through Hagrid's giant pumpkins and juicy tomatoes, Lucien reached a corner of the garden. Two rows of vibrant green sprouts swayed gently, as if greeting him.
He'd planted thirty Chinese Chomping Cabbage seeds. The loan only required ten, but this was his first go at magical plants, so he'd gone overboard to be safe. Plus, he wasn't short on potions—whipping up magical fertilizers and pesticides was a breeze, especially with the system's daily stock of ready-made brews. His yield would be massive.
And the extra cabbages? Sure, they weren't edible, but they'd make wicked hidden weapons.
Lucien crouched down to inspect the sprouts. Tiny mouths had started forming at the tips, though they hadn't grown their sharp teeth yet. He reached out and tickled one of the buds, and its little mouth twitched, almost like it was giggling.
He poured on some fertilizer and sprayed herbicide and pesticide. Then, hoe in hand, he turned over a new patch of soil nearby, planning to plant more crops or magical plants.
Maybe it was his inner Hufflepuff—or that "Diligent Little Gardener" title kicking in—but he was starting to love this whole planting thing.
He glanced up at the bright, full moon and chuckled softly.
"Carrying a hoe under the moonlight," he mused. "Pretty poetic, huh?"