Chapter 63

4:05 a.m.

Ryan leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly, as if his soul had been held in suspension all this time and was only now being released. His head throbbed violently, as though his brain were trying to escape his skull and go out for some fresh air.

Even so, a faint smile curved his lips.

Between his fingers, he held a silver ring, simple to the untrained eye, but of immense value: a dimensional storage ring.

A success.

An artifact that had not existed in this world, until now.

It had taken four straight hours of precise rune inscription, no room for error, no interruptions, barely enough breathing to stay conscious. But he’d done it.

The reason, beyond his talent, was clear: the Potion of Mental Clarity.

One of the seven formulas from the system. He had bought it for 90 galleons a month ago, back when he was still at Hogwarts.

Its difficulty level was advanced, on par with the Polyjuice Potion. But if Hermione Granger could brew that one in her second year, in an abandoned bathroom… why couldn’t he, under optimal conditions?

The brewing time for the Potion of Mental Clarity was one active hour if you had a copper cauldron, followed by about 18 hours of resting time.

A standard size-2 copper cauldron brewed potions more effectively than brass or pewter ones of the same size. Its price was, of course, higher, 25 galleons per unit.

A brass cauldron followed, costing 21 galleons and offering medium speed. Lastly, a pewter cauldron, the cheapest of all, cost 15 galleons and was the slowest.

Naturally, with all the money Ryan had, he owned a state-of-the-art copper cauldron, especially since he needed it for his weekly doses of Perfect Sleep Potion.

The Potion of Mental Clarity had the following effects:

Significantly increases concentration, analytical capacity, and mental focus for a period of 3–4 hours.

Allows the user to organize complex ideas with greater clarity, avoiding both external and internal distractions.

Does not increase base intelligence, but maximizes cognitive performance during its active period.

Useful before studying, mental training, or even magical duels.

Ryan had used it because the final rune-inscription session demanded extreme concentration. The potion had enhanced his analytical mind and sustained focus, improving his ability to visualize magical structures and execute them without hesitation.

For nearly four hours, it was as if his brain had been calibrated to millimetric precision.

His mind worked at 110%.

His body obeyed purely by reflex.

Now, of course, came the other side of the coin. A sharp migraine pulsed at his temples, not severe, but irritating.

And the exhaustion, brutal. Then again, he’d been working since ten in the morning, so that probably had something to do with it.

Each dose of this potion cost about 35 galleons in materials.

If overused (more than three times per week), it interfered with natural sleep and could cause anxiety or irritability.

The recommended use was no more than twice a week.

His eyes returned to the ring. Silver. Smooth. No visible runes. Only a small engraving on the inside, impossible to notice at a glance, especially when Ryan was wearing it, since it was etched on the inner band.

To anyone else, it was just a piece of jewelry. But Ryan knew that if he threw it into fire, the runes would begin to glow.

His first runic ring, with special, lasting enchantments.

Storage Capacity: internal volume equivalent to a 20-square-meter room with a height of 3 meters, about 60 cubic meters of usable space.

Weight: no matter how much was inside, the ring would always keep its base weight, just slightly heavier than a normal ring. It created no additional burden for the wearer.

Preservation: stored objects didn’t age or decay and remained in stasis (perfect for food, ingredients that needed protection, and so on).

Access: items could be retrieved or organized mentally through intent, no need to reach in and rummage.

Binding: the ring was linked to its first activator. No one else could open, read, or use it unless Ryan performed a rune unbinding process, as complex as creating the ring itself.

Ryan held it between his fingers for a moment, studying it under the dim light of his desk lamp. The silver gleamed softly, almost warmly. Then he slipped it onto the index finger of his right hand.

He took his wand and inhaled deeply. Then recited the activation phrase inscribed in the purchased formula:

“Veritas Animae. Primus Nexus.”

A faint pulse ran through his body, like a mild electric current, but not unpleasant: a sensation of connection.

The ring seemed to warm for a moment, and then… nothing. But Ryan knew. The bond had succeeded.

He clenched his fist and looked at the ring on his hand. Then, with his other hand, he picked up a quill lying on his desk, light, finely crafted, its tip slightly worn from use.

He held it for a few seconds, pressed it against the ring’s surface, and with a simple thought, it vanished. As if it had been silently swallowed by a pocket of magic. No flash, no vortex. Just absence.

“Nice…” Ryan murmured with a faint smile.

If he focused, he could feel a subtle presence in the ring. It was intuitive, he knew, with absolute certainty, that the quill was inside, and exactly where it was. It was like having an entire room accessible through thought.

He could “see” the internal space of the ring in his mind: the ethereal walls, the resting quill.

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened his palm, and the quill reappeared on it, without any visible effect.

Ryan propped his feet on the desk, leaning back in his chair as the quill spun lazily between his fingers. His expression was relaxed, almost lazy.

“How much would this be worth?” Ryan murmured, half joking, half calculating.

The ring was made of high-quality silver and had cost him 10 galleons. He could have bought a far more expensive gold ring, there were finer ones, higher in carats, costing around 50 galleons, and pure-gold ones exceeding 60.

But he’d chosen a good silver one instead, sturdy enough to withstand the artisanal process, yet not so valuable or rare that a thief might be tempted to steal it. Even if no one could open it, someone might try simply because it was gold and worth 50 or more galleons.

Back to the matter of price…

The wizarding world already had spatial-storage objects. They weren’t rare. There were trunks with extended compartments (like the ones Hogwarts students used), suitcases like that lunatic Newt Scamander’s, a guy who carried a portable zoo, and not to mention magical tents, which in their basic form offered between 10 and 15 square meters inside.

A basic tent cost between 100 and 200 galleons.

A luxury tent, with multiple rooms and enchanted amenities, could reach 400 galleons. A student’s expanded trunk barely cost 20 galleons.

But his creation was a ring. Not a trunk, not a suitcase, not a tent.

A normal-looking ring. Weightless. No need to open it, because it was a ring.

No visible mechanisms.

It had a far greater capacity than trunks or luxury tents and functioned only for its bound user. Technically illegal, and far more complex to craft.

A weapon for the perfect crime.

“Easily between six hundred and maybe a thousand galleons… if I sold it,” he thought, sinking a little deeper into his chair.

If he sold it for 600 galleons, he’d recover sixty times the cost of the material, a silver ring worth only ten.

But he wouldn’t sell it. That would come later, when he produced more, legalized them, and turned them into a certified high-end product on par with professional broomsticks.

‘Time to sleep,’ Ryan thought. He drank a Perfect Sleep Potion and collapsed onto his bed without bothering to take off his clothes or the ring.

Two hours later, he woke up feeling as if he’d just inhaled cocaine. The sky outside was still dark.

“Shit…” Ryan muttered, glancing at the clock.

The Perfect Sleep Potion was too efficient. It was only 6:30 a.m., and his mind was as alert as if he’d been awake for hours. More than four hours remained before he had to Apparate to King’s Cross… and his energy was through the roof, as if he’d downed ten cups of coffee.

Without wasting time, he began storing all his belongings inside the ring.

First, his most valuable possessions:

His private journal, containing all the information gathered on the Horcruxes.

70% of his money, leaving the other 30% in his coin pouch.

Various potion ingredients.

The raw materials for his x2 Glasses: frames and lenses.

Eagle feathers, common, rare, and pre-inscribed ones ready for sale at Hogwarts.

Hard-cover journals, some already enchanted with runes and ready for market; others still blank.

Everything vanished with a simple touch against the ring, as if absorbed by a silent, orderly dimension.

Then he read a book, his mother was still asleep, and he had energy to spare.

By eight, he was having breakfast with her, calm and unhurried, like someone who had already lived half a day before others even opened their eyes.

At nine sharp, he headed to Diagon Alley, visiting the three shops with which he had regular supply deals for enchanted quills. It was his last delivery before returning to Hogwarts, and the shopkeepers, knowing his production would drop once school resumed, took the chance to stock up.

He sold 35 quills in total, divided among the three shops.

Average price per unit: 8.5 galleons.

Total income: 297.5 galleons. Not bad for a quick end-of-vacation sale.

He also bought a total of 100 eagle feathers to have them ready for future rune inscriptions, spending 45 galleons in total, since the shopkeepers gave him a special bulk price. He didn’t buy them all from one shop, he divided the purchase evenly.

He also bought 20 higher-grade feathers, the more expensive kind, paying an average of 2 galleons per feather, for a total of 40 galleons.

Then he moved on to restock his potion supplies.

He purchased enough ingredients for 20 vials of Perfect Sleep Potion, calculating 4 per month (one per week) for the next five months he would spend at Hogwarts.

Cost per unit: 21 galleons (discounted bulk price).

Total spent: 420 galleons.

He also made sure to buy ingredients for the Potion of Mental Clarity, though in smaller quantity, only 4 doses, enough for a month if he used one per week. Its use was more specialized.

Cost per unit: 33 galleons (slight discount included).

Total spent: 132 galleons.

He bought less of the Potion of Mental Clarity because it wasn’t as broadly useful as the Perfect Sleep Potion. With the latter, he could sleep just two hours and function as though he had slept eight, six extra hours every time he used it. Six hours to study, practice spells, inscribe runes, plan movements, or read without interruption.

That was a real, cumulative, strategic advantage.

By contrast, the Potion of Mental Clarity was more specific, very useful, yes, but not a daily or weekly solution.

It was ideal for:

An important exam.

A magical battle.

A dangerous exploration.

Or the creation of another object, like the ring he had just crafted, where a single mistake could ruin hours of work.

As for raw materials for his quick-reading glasses, he didn’t need to restock.

In total, during that morning’s trip through Diagon Alley, he spent 637 galleons, the equivalent of a seasoned Auror’s monthly salary, gone in an hour, simply because he was short on time.

His fortune, which after the quill sales at Perks and the other shops stood at 5,689 galleons, dropped to 5,052.

Watching more than six hundred galleons vanish in an hour left a faint mental buzz.

Although the most interesting part wasn’t the spending itself, it was the looks.

Especially in the potion shop, where he dropped 420 galleons on ingredients for the Perfect Sleep Potion, and another 132 for the Potion of Mental Clarity.

More than 500 galleons in a single purchase.

What was curious was that no one, not even the shopkeeper, knew exactly what those ingredients were for when combined.

Valerian root with misty dreamflower, mermaid scales, fairy wings, lunar lavender…

To anyone else, it probably looked like he was improvising some kind of magical bomb or brewing a psychedelic infusion.

And yet, the shopkeeper sold him everything with a grin from ear to ear, thrilled at the profit he’d just secured from a single customer.

The rest of the people weren’t so discreet.

A few Hogwarts students who were also restocking for the return trip stared at him wide-eyed.

Ryan, meanwhile, simply pulled the galleons from the regular coin pouch inside his coat and paid in full, calmly and without hurry. The only thing missing was a cigarette hanging from his lip and a Peaky Blinders cap.

After that, he headed to King’s Cross to return to Hogwarts.