"I won't go into the details of exactly how I enchant things," Julian said smoothly, "because right now the wizarding world doesn't deserve that knowledge. But even you can see how advanced this piece is, can't you?"
He delivered it like a devil offering temptation in a polite voice.
McGonagall nodded, reluctant but honest. "It is indeed beyond your current capabilities, and close to being beyond mine as well. Not because of raw power, but complexity. The ring never ceases its transformations, and yet it isn't drawing magic from you to sustain itself."
"I know the shield spell," Julian said evenly, "and I have enough energy. So making single-use protective enchantments is simply a matter of time and effort on my end."
He lifted his hand and showed the Ravenclaw signet ring. "And I'll be honest. This isn't about money. After getting this, I have access to a vast fortune at any given moment. The charge for the rings will be entirely reasonable for most people to afford, but it's also a craftsman's issue. I refuse to give out my work without being paid for it, as is my right."
...
"I admire your honesty," McGonagall replied, her expression stern, "but the fact remains that I have no guarantee what you're offering is true."
Julian grinned, flashing white teeth. "So you would consider it if I could give solid proof of my claims, then?"
She froze for a beat, then sighed as she realized she'd walked straight into a trap and was now staring at checkmate.
"Very well," she said crisply. "If you can produce solid proof of your claim, then I shall send your request to Albus. However, it is out of my hands after that, Mr. Ravenclaw."
Julian's grin widened. "I don't think that will prove much of a problem. After all, the old man owes me dearly."
He bid her farewell and left her office with a faint spring in his step.
...
What Julian didn't know was that McGonagall had never truly doubted he could do what he claimed.
What she hated was the way he was using fear as fuel for business. She'd tried to reject him softly, without a direct refusal.
Instead, Julian had treated the entire conversation like chess, and she'd lost before she realized she was playing.
He is rather adept at misdirection, she thought uneasily.
Even interacting with him regularly, she couldn't get a clean read. He was a walking mass of contradictions that had no business existing in the same person. Cold and kind. Courageous and paranoid. Proud and humble at once.
And on top of it, he clearly didn't care for tradition or hollow rewards.
Every professor, and a small number of students, knew the house cup was essentially just bragging rights in the end.
...
He has some kind of agenda with this request, she continued to think, pen hovering. But it can't be political, he seems to detest it. Perhaps Albus can shed some light on the matter.
She began writing up the formal paperwork for Julian's request. She had given her word, and she knew he was going to produce the proof she'd demanded.
Still, the last thing he'd said about Dumbledore worried her. It was an open sign that he was still holding a grudge.
...
Julian returned to the workshop and, after shooing Steve away, started the furnace and switched it to dragon fire.
Metal worked under dragon fire held enchantments slightly better than metal forged under ordinary flame. Even though Julian planned to use iron for these rings, because it was cheap, he still used the magical fire.
That reminds me, now that I have this much money, I need to look into getting more flames, he thought, tossing an iron bar into the roaring heat to melt.
...
It didn't take long, barely a minute, for the iron to liquefy.
Julian drew it from the furnace with magic and dunked the molten metal into a bucket of prepared water, rapidly cooling it into shape.
This time he formed it into a long rod, about half an inch thick and half a foot long.
Once it cooled and solidified, he placed it back into the furnace, heating it only until it was workable. Then he began cutting the rod into segments, preparing to turn each piece into a ring.