A gentle breeze rustled through the Forbidden Forest.
Lucien felt the Iron Armor Charm shatter around him.
He picked up the Qilin horn, studying its smooth, jade-like texture—an object as beautiful as a work of art.
Could it really negate magic?
This thing was practically a glitch in the wizarding world.
Time for another test.
Lucien casually transfigured a broken pebble on the ground into an elegant cup and summoned it to his hand. As the Qilin horn neared the cup—about a centimeter away—the cup instantly reverted to a stone.
Lucien raised an eyebrow. It could even undo Transfiguration? The anti-magic effect seemed to kick in when the horn's surface was within a centimeter of an object.
If he could turn this into a weapon…
Imagine crafting it into a bullet tip. It would ignore magical defenses, piercing straight into a target. Add a touch of Delayed Truth for an explosive effect, or maybe mix in some poison.
It could also work for crafting shields or light armor, though the quantity needed might be an issue.
"System, how often do Qilins shed their horns?" Lucien asked.
[During their growth phase, Qilins shed their horns every six months.]
That was reasonable, but it meant a limited supply. Lucien wasn't some monster who'd saw off little Glimmer's horn—assuming he even could. Waiting for natural shedding would yield four horns a year, which might not be enough for armor.
But maybe he didn't need much. If a thin layer of Qilin horn—or even its powder—retained the anti-magic property, a small amount could go a long way. Coating the surface of armor or embedding it in a layered shield, as long as the outer shell was less than a centimeter thick, could work.
There was just one small problem.
Lucien glanced at the Qilin horn, then at his wand. Anti-magic? How was he supposed to process it with magic? Even Transfiguration was undone by the horn, so magical tools were out of the question.
Would he have to resort to Muggle tools, like a cutting machine? He didn't even know how hard the horn was. If it couldn't be shaped, what good was it? The horn wasn't exactly sharp enough to serve as a dagger.
Besides, a wizard playing close-combat assassin? That mental image felt… off.
It'd be easier to have Glimmer teleport behind an enemy and give them a quick nudge.
Lucien rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. It was like finding a treasure chest without a key—and brute force might not even crack it open.
He was about to slip the Qilin horn into his Undetectable Extension Charm pocket when he froze. Would it disrupt the charm? If it broke the spell, would the pocket's contents vanish or explode outward?
He couldn't just carry it around casually, either. What if he accidentally brought it into an extended space? What would happen then?
"System, can a shed Qilin horn be stored in the system space?" Lucien asked. "You've always said only system-provided items can go in there. The Qilin's one of yours, right? So its horn should be fine."
[…]
[You're right, host.]
In an instant, the Qilin horn vanished from Lucien's hand, safely stored in the system space.
He glanced at the lone short horn on Glimmer's head and said, "Next time your head itches, check if your horn's about to shed. If it falls off, make sure to pick it up. I could use it."
"Got it, master," Glimmer replied. "Oh, what about my shed scales?"
Lucien didn't hesitate. "Keep those too."
While the Qilin horn's anti-magic effect was far stronger than the scales, the scales were far more plentiful. With Glimmer nearly the size of a horse, a full shedding could produce a ton of them.
Even if magic couldn't process them, stringing them into light armor or embedding them in a shield would do the trick. It'd block most standard spells—definitely better than taking a curse head-on.
"Alright, let's go find some Mooncalves," Lucien said.
…
Inside a dark cave, Lucien's wand tip glowed with a soft light.
A few pale gray Mooncalves, their round eyes bulging atop their heads, scampered over, dancing around Lucien and Glimmer.
"Glimmer, ask them if they'd be willing to come with us," Lucien said.
Glimmer began communicating with the Mooncalves, though it took some effort. Mooncalves weren't exactly the most intelligent magical creatures, so explaining things was a bit tricky.
"Master, they roughly want food, a cave, moonlight, and a place to dance," Glimmer reported.
Lucien nodded. In other words, room and board plus some entertainment. Moonlight wasn't an issue—Newt's letter had detailed how to create those conditions.
On full moon nights, he could even let them out to dance. Their moonlight dances were honestly pretty charming.
When Glimmer relayed Lucien's promises, the Mooncalves danced even more enthusiastically. Lucien wasn't surprised by how smoothly this was going. With Glimmer's natural affinity for animals and the conditions he could offer, it was no wonder magical creatures would line up to follow him.
He pulled out a white gourd and gently ushered the Mooncalves inside. Then he entered the gourd himself, leaving Glimmer to keep watch.
Inside the gourd's space, Lucien waved his wand, conjuring a cave from the barren ground. Following Newt's instructions, he used alchemy to craft a miniature moon lamp, enlarged it, and suspended it in the air.
Soft moonlight spilled down.
The Mooncalves poked their heads out of the cave, hesitant at first. But when one took the lead and started dancing under the light, the others quickly joined in.
Watching the scene, Lucien felt a sense of accomplishment and calm satisfaction, like he'd just opened a ranch or a small zoo. These Mooncalves were his first residents.
Since this was a single, enclosed space, any other creatures he added should have similar temperaments and gentle natures to avoid conflicts.
Lucien exited the gourd space. Next, he'd need to address their food supply. Luckily, the Forbidden Forest was rich with resources, and Glimmer could gather some while they were here.
Tucking the white gourd away, Lucien stepped out of the cave. "Glimmer, let's go. Time to check in on Aragog and the others."