"It is fine, I guess. It just stung a bit to be doubted like that," Julian admitted honestly.
The workers all nodded in understanding.
"A man has to take his word serious," the boss said, voice sincere. "So the fault is ours, lad. Can you forgive us?"
Julian nodded after a moment. "Alright. I will forgive you this time. Just do not let it happen again, agreed?" he said firmly.
The men thumped their chests in promise.
"Enough about that," Julian said, a grin tugging at his lips. "Who wants to see the rings?"
He gave the box a little shake for emphasis.
Every man within earshot perked up. They crowded around the messy worktable as Julian tipped the box over, copper rings spilling out in a small clatter.
One of the workers picked up a ring curiously, turning it between his rough fingers.
"They are shaped like hammers," Julian explained, smiling. "Copper makes them easy to clean and easy to fix if something happens to them. The size for each one is scratched into the hammer head."
The men quickly sorted through the pile, hunting down the ones that matched their sizes. Each of them slid a ring onto a finger and admired the tiny hammer shape with boyish satisfaction.
"Copper hammers, eh?" the boss said, chuckling as he admired his own. "That has a nice ring to it, lad."
"I thought you lot would like the joke," Julian replied, smirking.
"Aye. Hard to believe a squirt like you made these, but they have all the signs of solid work. Well done," the boss said honestly.
Julian's smirk deepened. You have not seen anything yet, he thought, absentmindedly brushing his thumb over Sanar.
...
Harry, for his part, had no trouble chatting with the workers. He did not flinch at the sweat, the smell, or the grime. He just seemed happy to be included, to be spoken to like a person.
Julian could not help thinking that this was exactly why Hagrid had been one of Harry's favorite people in the books. The half-giant did not care about race, house, bloodline, or status. He saw people, nothing more, nothing less. That alone made him better than most of the wizarding world.
The boys spent about an hour at the refinery, trading stories with the men and soaking in the warm, rough-edged camaraderie, before they finally headed back to the orphanage.
The rest of the day was quieter. They broke out the chess set and played game after game, and although Harry fought hard, Julian won every match.
...
Time slipped forward.
Three and a half months came and went.
In that stretch, Julian settled into a rhythm. He spent his free hours in the shed, forging rings and gradually refining his technique, while the rest of his time was divided between school, books, and Harry.
His body had finished healing completely. No more bruises, no more lingering aches from the beating he had taken at the start. Thanks to the constant physical strain of smithing, his muscles had grown stronger, his endurance better than ever.
Harry, too, had recovered significantly. Regular meals, warmth, and affection had done wonders. The worst signs of malnutrition faded, leaving only the longer-term effects that would take more time and a few growth spurts to smooth out.
Julian held firm to his decision about muggles. He never enchanted any of the rings he made for them. Once the system had evaluated and rewarded a piece, he melted most of them back down, recycling the metal for later use.
...
By the time the calendar reached July 25, 1990, Julian finally decided it was time to bend his own rule.
In six days, Harry would turn eleven.
He intended to give his friend a proper gift.
Over the months, he had accumulated a considerable stockpile of ring points. He had kept his pace deliberate, forging only three rings a day. His goal was quality, not sheer numbers, unlike the quick work he had done for the refinery men.
Because of that, the system valued each piece more highly. The best silver ring he had produced so far had earned him twenty-five points on its own.
Altogether, he had made 336 rings in that period. The system's appraisals broke down roughly like this:
One hundred of them were worth ten points each.
Fifty-six were valued at twelve.
Eighty-nine came out at fifteen.
Ten were tagged at sixteen.
Twenty at seventeen.
Thirty at nineteen.
Fifteen reached twenty points.
Ten were worth twenty-two.
Three hit twenty-three.
Two were graded at twenty-four.
And a single ring, his current best, earned twenty-five.
When all of that was added together, his total sat at 4,839 ring points.
He had not spent a single one.
On paper, it sounded like a fortune. In reality, it barely covered the basics.
A simple, small muggle-style forge in the system shop cost one thousand points by itself. Once he started looking at bigger, more advanced equipment, the prices skyrocketed.
Julian had decided early on not to waste points on heavy, physical items he would just have to abandon when he went to Hogwarts. Lugging a full forge to a castle full of nosy teenagers and teachers was not exactly subtle.
Instead, he saved.
And then, while browsing the shop one day, he had found something that stopped him in his tracks.
[One-time use enchantment model: Storage Space (three cubic meters). Price: 5000 ring points.]
He had been stunned.
It meant he did not have to build every enchantment from scratch. The system could apply "prefabricated" enchantments, less flexible than custom work but incredibly efficient.
Expensive, yes.
But the ability to fold three cubic meters of space into a ring or other item, ready to carry an entire workshop with him?
That was worth saving for.