Dumbledore followed the trail of memories he had so casually skimmed from the Dursleys and had no trouble pinpointing the source of the upheaval at Privet Drive. A boy, about ten years old, set to turn eleven in March.
"Old enough to enter Hogwarts alongside Harry," he noted idly.
The old wizard replayed the scene in the principal's office from each Dursley's perspective, watching as the meeting unfolded. He could not help a faint, approving nod at the quiet control the boy displayed. The child held the entire situation in his hands, guiding it without shouting or gloating, enjoying his victory but not flaunting it.
What an interesting little fellow, Dumbledore mused, amused, once he finished browsing through the family's memories of the incident.
Then he pushed deeper, slipping into the memory of the initial confrontation from Dudley's point of view.
He froze.
He recognized instantly what had terrified the muggle boy so completely.
Pure, unfiltered magic.
As someone who lived surrounded by ambient magic at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had an intimate sense for the stuff, and he was stunned to find it at the center of this mundane school spat, even if not in a traditional form.
He is clearly some pure-blood scion planted near Harry, Dumbledore analyzed, his mind dissecting Julian's presence in seconds. That burst of magic is powerful but crude, more like a hammer than a scalpel. Lack of training, not lack of talent.
His eyes sharpened.
I should see whether this boy might grow up like him, he decided gravely.
Normally, he did not personally track every orphaned wizard. There were too many and not enough time. But this one was already displaying remarkable power, and on top of that, he was now Harry Potter's friend. That alone made him worth attention.
With the decision made, Dumbledore vanished from the area with a sharp pop, leaving behind no evidence he had ever been there.
...
The orphanage was buzzing when he arrived nearby.
Children and caretakers were all clustered around Harry, showering him with warmth, sympathy, and excitement. The boy looked overwhelmed, visibly struggling with the sudden flood of positive attention after a lifetime of neglect.
Well, this will help ease him into the fame that awaits next year, Dumbledore thought with mild amusement, watching Harry try to navigate being the center of attention.
Of course, he drifted through Harry's recent memories of Julian as well. What he saw made him smile.
What a good lad. He even knows how to make jewelry and has been nothing but kind to Harry, the old wizard thought approvingly.
The fact that Julian could craft jewelry at his age did not seem strange to him. Talented people had always done unusual things early in life. If anything, it only confirmed a suspicion. Those with exceptional skill at enchanting often gravitated toward craftwork young.
The problem appeared when he turned his attention to Julian himself.
Dumbledore cast Legilimency at the boy.
And found himself trapped.
He fell headlong into a memory. His own memory.
Ariana.
He saw her dying. Again.
And again.
And again.
The memory did not play once. It looped, hammering into him relentlessly. Her face, her blood, the chaos, the guilt. Over and over without end.
When the mental onslaught finally stopped, Dumbledore staggered back, his chest heaving. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and in that moment he looked years older, the weight of his past pressing down on him.
What in Merlin's name just happened? the Supreme Mugwump thought, horrified.
His horror only deepened when he saw Julian glance down at the ring on his hand, frown in confusion, then slowly shift to a look of dawning realization. The boy's eyes darted around the room, cautious, evaluating.
He enchanted the ring to protect his mind. How? Dumbledore thought, shaken by the sheer level of talent that implied.
Tom has nothing on this boy in raw potential. I will need to watch him very closely, the old wizard decided, seriousness settling over him like a cloak.
He apparated away with another crack, never noticing that Julian's little display of confusion and caution had been pure acting.
...
Julian had sensed Dumbledore's arrival the moment the man stepped within range. To someone with his heightened magical awareness, the old headmaster was like a blazing lighthouse in the night, radiating power on all sides.
The disillusionment charm that hid Dumbledore visually did nothing to obscure that presence. If anything, it annoyed Julian enough to sharpen his response when Sanar reacted to the intrusion.
The ring's automatic defense was simple in design. It tore apart invasive magical probes on contact.
Julian decided to get creative.
Instead of just shredding the Legilimency attempt, he used the backlash as a channel and shoved a repeating loop of Dumbledore's worst memory into the old man's mind. Ariana's death. Again and again.
Glad that is finally over, Julian thought in relief once he felt the pressure of the Legilimency disappear. Waiting for that man to make a move was getting harder by the hour.
He had been anticipating Dumbledore's visit ever since child services had intervened, and even a patient person could only sit with that expectation for so long before their nerves began to fray.
I might have gone a bit overboard with the retaliation, he admitted to himself, a little sheepish.
He thought for a moment, then nodded slightly.
I will get him some woolen socks for Christmas in my first year as an apology, he decided. After all, everyone remembered that little line from the books.