Julian did not rush to perform the ritual immediately, because the instructions demanded a very specific setting.
The steps were clear.
First, he needed to locate a place with no light at all. Then he had to draw the ritual circle, marking it with a single line running straight through the center from east to west. The beetle eyes were placed at the western end of that line, while the bat eyes went at the eastern end. After that, the caster was required to stand at the circle's center between both points, extinguish every trace of light in the area, and ensure the timing was correct.
It had to be after 8:00 p.m., but before 2:00 a.m.
...
Once everything was prepared, the incantation would be spoken. If performed properly, both sets of eyes would turn to smoke and stream into the wizard's own, granting permanent night vision.
Julian still had time before eight, so instead of sitting around waiting, he returned to his workshop and continued reading through the ritual books he had checked out from the library.
The subject was far broader than he had expected. Many rituals appeared only once, never repeating across the other texts, even when some of them produced similar end results. The methods, ingredients, and underlying structure varied wildly.
...
By the time dinner approached, Julian had finished one full book and made it halfway through another. In all that reading, he found only one additional ritual that was worth adding to his existing list.
It was called the ritual of nature.
Its effect was simple and extremely appealing. A significant increase in magical power.
Its requirements, however, were harsh.
First, the caster had to be under the age of thirteen.
Second, the boost had to be fueled by vital parts taken from at least three magical creatures, but fewer than seven. The ritual did not care what the creatures were, or exactly which parts were used, as long as those parts were considered vital. The more powerful the creatures, the better the resulting increase.
Third, it had to be performed during Beltane, the annual event when magic flooded the planet for exactly three hours. The ritual required that narrow window, specifically from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m. on May first.
And the ritual could only be used once in a lifetime.
...
It also stated, very plainly, that the ritual would not affect future magical growth. It was a one time leap, nothing more. That meant pure benefit, with little cost beyond time, effort, and money.
Julian would likely have more than enough money by then. That made gathering parts from six powerful creatures within the next seven months entirely achievable.
He could even obtain one set during his planned acromantula hunt.
The spider's heart did not qualify as its vital part. Instead, the ritual classified the pincers and venom sacs as vital. Better yet, the sacs did not need to be full in order to count.
Hunting an acromantula would be like killing three birds with one stone, and that realization only reinforced his belief that the plan was worth pursuing.
He still did not know what other creatures he would harvest from, but he had time to solve that later.
...
After packing the books back into Greed, Julian headed for the Great Hall for dinner.
When he arrived, he did not notice the conflicted look Dumbledore was giving him.
...
Much earlier in the day, on the old wizard's side of things, Dumbledore had made a trip to Gringotts in the early morning hours.
It was a very particular sort of visit.
He had not come as a political figure or as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, but as the technically legal guardian of the orphan Nicholas Iron.
Dumbledore found it faintly absurd that wizarding law appointed him guardian of every magical orphan in the British Isles, despite the fact he had no children of his own.
...
Normally, consent was required for blood to be drawn for an inheritance test. But as the boy's legal guardian, Dumbledore held the authority to waive that requirement.
The goblins treated him with polite respect when he arrived. He was influential, powerful, and controlled a great many assets that mattered to them.
Dumbledore was quietly amused by the look he received when he approached a counter and requested an inheritance test.
He knew exactly what they were thinking.
He was well over a hundred years old. Asking to discover interesting ancestry at this stage would be, to put it mildly, strange.
Only when the goblin asked for his blood did Dumbledore clarify the matter. Instead of offering his own, he presented Julian's blood.
The goblin overseeing the ritual was clearly unimpressed at being misled, even briefly, but proceeded with the test regardless.
At first, everything seemed to be progressing normally.
Then the image summoned by the ritual shifted.
It transformed into a silver and blue eagle crest, thrumming with such power that Dumbledore realized, in that instant, he may have made a very serious miscalculation.