"There has to be a better way to do this, Julian," Harry said seriously.
Julian shook his head. "Honestly, if it were anyone else, that might be true. But I told you, I just don't fear injury. So I keep failing, and until I get past that hurdle, it's going to stay like this." He sighed and tapped his temple. "It's a problem with this, so there isn't another option. Unless you know someone willing to use an unforgivable without meaning to really hurt me."
...
Ron gasped, outright horrified, the moment Julian mentioned an unforgivable being used on him. It was beyond cruel.
He couldn't really be blamed for reacting that way either. The effects of the Cruciatus Curse were known across the entire wizarding world. Even a single exposure was infamous for driving people into insanity from the pain.
Neville's parents were well-known examples. Even now, they sat in St. Mungo's mental ward, practically catatonic. Recently, they'd started a specific set of healing exercises in the hope of recovery, but it was far too soon to say whether it would help.
So when Ron heard Julian calmly state that the only other option was something that awful, he understood just how hard Julian's situation was when it came to learning Protego.
...
Julian's plan for the extreme training was basically a twisted version of Pavlov. He wasn't trying to train himself to salivate at a bell.
He was trying to condition himself to instinctively fear injury the moment a spell came at him.
It was cruel.
It was inhumane.
And for him, it was the only path he could see right now.
...
After dinner, Julian drank another wiggenweld potion and went to bed, fully expecting to be cursed in his dreams.
So when he drifted off and found himself face to face with a certain elf, he wasn't surprised.
The elf didn't speak at first. He didn't need to.
The disappointment on his face said more than words ever could, and it dug under Julian's skin.
"It's the only way," Julian said defensively, bothered by that expression more than he wanted to admit.
The elf sighed. "I'm not disappointed in your willingness to do what you think is necessary to protect yourself. I'm disappointed in how you're choosing to do it."
...
"You're only thinking of spells to solve the problem," the elf snapped, anger spilling out. "But you're a craftsman, so start acting like one!"
The elf's shout made Julian flinch. He wasn't used to that tone, not from him. The elf had always been calm, quiet, controlled. Hearing him yell was unsettling in a way Julian didn't like.
"You keep putting your craftsmanship second and focusing on magic instead of using your craft for everything," the elf continued harshly. "And I refuse to hold my tongue anymore."
...
"You know how this works!" Julian shot back, refusing to sit there and be lectured. "I can't just make a ring that protects me as well as a shield spell without understanding the spell itself!"
"Then make something else," the elf roared. "Bombs. Invisibility. Anything else. But stop acting like only this one thing can help you!"
And then he booted Julian out of the dream entirely.
...
For the first time since he'd gotten the system, Julian woke up in the middle of the night.
Frustrated, he tried to fall asleep again, but the elf's words kept circling in his head. Worse, they rang true enough that they stole sleep from him completely.
By dawn, Julian gave up on the pointless attempt. Still grumpy, he made his way down to the workshop.
Helena noticed how haggard he looked, but she didn't comment. She was polite enough not to pry.
"Peeves tried to cause trouble earlier," she told him. "But I chased him off. Other than that, nothing's changed in the workshop."
Julian nodded, then sat against the wall and closed his eyes, sinking into his mindscape.
...
He expected the usual chaos.
Instead, the moment he opened his eyes inside, a gauntleted fist smashed into his face.
"FUCK!" Julian cursed as pain exploded through him.
Then the injury faded away as if it had never been real, leaving only the sting and the shock.
Julian blinked, refocused, and looked up at what had hit him.
"You need fear of pain to cast that shield spell?" an angry, painfully familiar voice said. "Fine. I'll make you fear pain, then."
Julian's glare sharpened instantly.
"You," he hissed, staring at the elf standing in his mindscape, clad head to toe in silver-and-gold armor.