"I thought ghosts were bound to one specific place, barring special circumstances?" Julian asked, genuinely confused.
Helena rolled her eyes. "The four House ghosts of Hogwarts are part of that set of special circumstances," she said with a smug little smirk. "Besides, ghosts can go anywhere they were in life freely."
"Enough about me," she added quickly, shifting her floating posture as if settling into a more comfortable seat in midair. "Let's talk about you. There have been so many rumors about you around the school. How many are true?"
Julian shrugged. "I don't listen to rumors, so I have no clue," he answered honestly.
...
The conversation carried on like that for hours, an effortless back and forth that made time slip away. Eventually, Madam Pomfrey had enough and kicked them both out of the infirmary, declaring Julian recovered and the bed needed for patients who actually belonged there.
Julian was calmer by the time he left, Helena's company having worn down the edge of his anger. That did not mean he intended to let Dumbledore's actions go unanswered.
He already knew what would be perfect.
If he struck the Headmaster, he would do it where it hurt most.
His reputation.
...
Julian returned to his workshop, and Helena followed with ease. As a ghost, she had nothing better to do than trail after him and haunt his day.
Something unexpected happened the moment she started fooling around with his tools.
She reached out, half joking, as if expecting her hand to pass right through everything.
Instead, her fingers closed around one of the tools.
She lifted it.
Both of them froze, staring in disbelief.
Then Helena cackled like a madwoman and began swinging the tool around with gleeful enthusiasm, as if she had just been handed the world.
The tool in question was the hammer Julian had won from the roulette.
It clicked into place in his mind almost instantly. The hammer's astral nature must be why she could hold it. It interacted with her spiritual form instead of phasing through her like everything else.
...
The sight dragged Julian's thoughts toward something he had considered before, something unpleasantly familiar.
The cursed beings that rings in the style of Celebrimbor could create.
Ringwraiths.
Those wraiths were mortals granted ghostlike properties. They did not age. They became, in practice, immortal. Yet the price had been absolute. They were bound as slaves to Sauron, and they could not be satisfied by food or drink, condemned to an existence of hollow craving.
In theory, there was nothing stopping Julian from crafting a ring that could give a ghost like Helena a ringwraith like state of being.
There was no Sauron in this world to control and corrupt them, but Julian doubted most ghosts would refuse loyalty if it meant regaining physical form.
...
Then his eyes widened as a darker idea crept in, sharp and tempting.
A terrible idea.
One that might not work.
But if it did…
He would be untouchable.
If he crafted a corrupting ring like the one that had ensnared the ringwraiths, he could "accidentally" let slip what it did to ghosts, then "accidentally" leave it where Voldemort could find it and use it. Voldemort might rampage for a time, but eventually the corruption would drag him down and bind him.
As Julian's slave.
Most people did not deserve slavery.
But Voldemort was essentially magical Hitler, and Julian doubted anyone would mourn his freedom.
...
'Damn it. I forgot about the Horcruxes for a moment,' Julian cursed inwardly.
As long as the connection between Voldemort and his soul fragments existed, any corruption the ring attempted to establish would be purged before it could properly take hold.
'Well, that plan is dead on arrival,' Julian conceded. 'Still, an elite group of ringwraiths would be useful.'
He looked up at Helena, who was still swinging the hammer around like she had lost her mind.
"Could you come here for a moment?" he asked. "I want to test something."
Helena stopped, though she stubbornly refused to put the hammer down. Even so, she floated over, curiosity glittering in her expression.
Julian locked the workshop door behind them, which immediately made Helena tilt her head.
"What you are about to see, and maybe experience, does not leave this room," Julian said, voice flat with seriousness.
Helena blinked, clearly confused by the secrecy, but she nodded.
...
Julian began channeling his spiritual energy into his arms.
The air around him brightened as a pale white glow spread over his skin, faint at first, then steady.
He reached out and took Helena's hand.
The moment his glowing fingers made contact, Helena shivered violently, like a sudden cold wind had passed through her.
Then her expression changed.
For the first time in over a thousand years, she felt warmth.
Real warmth, the unmistakable sensation of another person's touch.
Helena dropped the hammer and seized Julian's glowing hand with both of hers, eyes wide with excited disbelief.
"How are you doing this!?" she demanded, practically vibrating with urgency.
"Once again," Julian said, making sure every word landed, "this does not leave this room. Under any circumstances."
Helena sobered, her expression turning solemn. She swore it with an unbreakable oath, to Julian's surprise.
"Well," Julian muttered, startled by how quickly she escalated it, "that simplifies things a bit."
Then he explained, plainly and carefully, how he enchanted objects by channeling spiritual energy into his rings.
"This test," he finished, "was to see if I could physically touch a ghost using the same method."