Julian was honestly surprised that no one at the orphanage seemed to notice the brilliant ring gleaming on his right hand. Even on the bus ride to school, not a single person glanced at it, despite how eye-catching it looked to him.
The only exception came when he sat down beside Harry after handing in his homework.
"Where'd you get that ring?" Harry asked, staring at it with confused curiosity behind his glasses.
Harry knew from the day before that Julian was an orphan like him, so the first worrying thought in his mind was that Julian might have stolen it, even if he did not seem like the type.
Julian chuckled quietly at how decent Harry still was despite the miserable life he had been forced to endure. "Do not worry, mate, it is not stolen. I actually made it last night," he said honestly. "Do me a favor and keep that to yourself though. It will cause trouble for me if people find out."
He had no intention of lying to Harry. Even in the books, Harry had always been extremely sharp when it came to sensing lies, and Julian saw no reason to test that.
Harry's eyes widened. Excitement flared across his face. "You know how to make jewelry?" he blurted, leaning in with clear interest.
Julian could not blame him. Thanks to his aunt's obsession with expensive jewelry as a status symbol, Harry had seen firsthand how much money such things cost. Even if he never got to touch any of it, he was smart enough to understand that the people who made that kind of work probably earned a lot.
The idea that the first person who had genuinely wanted to be his friend also knew how to make jewelry was almost too good to be true.
Poor kid has no clue how valuable what I make really is, Julian thought with a quiet sigh. And I cannot tell him either, not with that old mind-ripper prowling around ready to dig through his thoughts.
"I am no master," Julian said aloud, "but I know a bit about the craft."
"Does that mean you can get rich?" Harry asked, eyes sparkling with hope.
Julian laughed. "And who exactly is going to buy jewelry from a brat like me? No, mate. Unless I find an older business partner to front for me, getting rich is impossible right now."
Harry paused, then wilted a little. He nodded slowly, accepting the harsh logic. It was the truth. No one with real money was lining up to hire ten-year-olds as craftsmen.
"Besides," Julian added, sounding exasperated, "the metal I need to make anything does not grow on trees. And that is not even getting into the tools."
"Then how did you make that ring?" Harry asked, frowning in confusion.
"Got lucky," Julian answered. "Some metal fell into my lap, and I managed to borrow some tools for a while to make this ring and the unfinished form of another."
He was not lying. Everything he said was technically true. He was just skipping over a few details involving an astral forge and an elven master smith.
"You have another ring?" Harry asked, startled.
Julian opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, a familiar voice cut in, loud and rude.
"Oi! Stay away from Harry, he is a freak!"
Harry's cousin stomped up with his usual pair of dim-witted cronies in tow, each boy looking more vacant than the last. The fat boy stood with his arms crossed, glaring at Julian like he had committed some terrible crime simply by sitting next to Harry.
Harry visibly shrank at their approach. His shoulders hunched, his head dipped, and his eyes turned pleading as he looked at Julian, clearly expecting him to pull away and agree with Dudley like everyone else always did.
That did not happen.
Instead, Julian met Dudley's gaze head-on and did something he had not yet let himself do in this world. He stopped restraining his magic.
Invisible pressure rolled out from him, cold and heavy, slamming into Dudley's instincts. The larger boy recoiled, an animal terror flickering in his eyes without him even knowing why.
"How so?" Julian asked, his voice perfectly calm, his face utterly blank.
Dudley froze. The question bounced around inside his underused brain, looking for somewhere to stick, but there was nothing there.
"B-because my parents said so!" he snapped at last, raising his voice in anger as if volume could make up for the lack of reason.
"I did not ask what your parents said," Julian replied.
The magical pressure deepened, thickening the air around Dudley until he nearly trembled.
"I asked how he is a freak."
His tone turned icy.
Harry watched with wide eyes, stunned. Julian did not even need to stand up. He stayed seated, yet Dudley, who towered over him both in height and girth, was the one backing down.
Dudley's mouth opened and closed like a stunned goldfish. No answer came. No insult, no excuse, nothing. Eventually, red-faced and humiliated, he turned around and stalked off with his two followers scrambling after him.
Harry looked as if he might burst into tears, but not from sadness. His whole face shone with relief, gratitude, and something like fierce joy. Someone had stood up for him. For once, he had not been abandoned or thrown to the wolves.
In that moment, Harry silently swore to himself that he would never betray Julian's trust. Not for anything. Not even if it cost him his life.
Julian, meanwhile, had no idea that he had just casually stolen Ronald Weasley's future position as Harry's closest friend before Ron ever even got the chance to earn it.
What he did know was that Dudley was absolutely going to complain to his parents, and the Dursleys would, in turn, try to cause trouble for Harry, or possibly for Julian as well. He let out a quiet sigh at the thought.
He had probably just made Harry's life more complicated, and by extension, his own. But he could not bring himself to regret it. Bullies were something he simply could not tolerate.
In his previous life, he had been targeted by bullies because of his intelligence. Those experiences had left their mark, hardening into a near-antisocial personality and a complete refusal to bow to that kind of cruelty ever again.