Julian ended up sharing a room with Harry at the orphanage, since the staff could plainly see that the two of them got along. Neither boy minded in the slightest.
Julian liked it because Harry already knew about his crafting and the existence of magic, at least in the vague, future-Hogwarts sense. He also knew that both of them would be heading to Hogwarts next year and, knowing Dumbledore's habits, probably wind up in the same house and dormitory anyway.
With their personalities, both of them were practically guaranteed to land in Gryffindor.
Julian was something of an outlier there. He could, quite honestly, fit into any house the Sorting Hat might choose.
He was cunning and ambitious enough for Slytherin.Courageous enough for Gryffindor.Thoughtful and curious enough for Ravenclaw.Loyal and hardworking enough for Hufflepuff.
In a situation like that, he suspected that his own choice would be the deciding factor for the Sorting Hat. And, sadly, Gryffindor was simply too advantageous to ignore.
The sheer amount of bias stacked in Gryffindor's favor during Harry's school years was too good not to exploit. Extra points, lenient treatment, conveniently timed rescues. Yes, the house came bundled with a frightening amount of danger, but the benefits easily balanced that out.
Besides, being a Gryffindor would likely make Dumbledore a little less suspicious of him in the long run. That house was full of heroic types and golden boys, not schemers and villains.
The biggest downside, in Julian's opinion, was the sheer number of idiots and carefree layabouts who would want to drag him and Harry into games, pranks, and general nonsense when he wanted to study or craft.
...
A week slipped by. The Dursleys packed up, dragged Dudley with them, and fled the neighborhood, unable to stand the glares and whispers that followed them everywhere.
With them gone, the school district was finally free of Dudley's bullying. Teachers and students alike quietly rejoiced.
Julian, however, felt like an absolute idiot at the end of that week when Harry looked at the metal ring on his finger and innocently asked why he had not tried to find scrap to turn into jewelry.
For Harry, it was the most obvious solution in the world. For Julian, it was something he had completely overlooked, trapped in the assumption that his materials needed to be high-grade to produce worthwhile rings.
Honestly, I should at least test whether the system cares if the metal is scrap, Julian thought, vaguely annoyed with himself. Harry is already making that choice to befriend him look smarter by the day. Good work, past me.
...
On Saturday, Julian and Harry set out from the orphanage together to hunt for scrap metal.
Muggle London in the early nineties turned out to be a treasure trove for anyone willing to dig through what other people threw away. Cans, bent silverware, old cooking utensils, broken car parts, leftover construction offcuts... all of it ended up tossed out with the rubbish.
The two boys combed through alleys, bins, and scrapyards, slowly building a decent haul. They found tin, silver, iron, steel, and copper in quantities large enough to keep Julian supplied with material for quite some time.
The staff at the local metal refinery were unexpectedly enthusiastic when the boys turned up with their bags of scrap. Once they heard what Julian wanted the metal for, they were more than happy to help.
They melted everything down and poured it into small ingots for easy use. The owner of the refinery even got involved personally, helping them shape some of the steel into a rough set of tongs and simple hammers when he learned Julian wanted to try his hand at jewelry-making.
All they asked for in return was a piece of jewelry each, as payment.
Julian had no problem with that. They would need to get paper and a pencil so he could take each man's ring size, but otherwise the deal was more than fair.
...
The caretaker at the orphanage was understandably puzzled when Julian and Harry came back carrying tools and a box of metal ingots. Once they explained what they were for, however, her confusion melted into approval.
She cheerfully cleared out the old shed behind the building for them. It was dusty and cluttered, but it had a small built-in fireplace, which Julian could use as a simple forge to heat the metal.
Julian could not help noting, with some amusement, that if there was one thing English folk almost never scoffed at, it was youngsters wanting to learn a craft.
The only thing I am missing now is something that can serve as an anvil, he thought, examining the shabby but promising little workshop, and I should be able to really get started.
...
Two days later, luck finally smiled on him.
On the ride home, the school bus passed a new construction site. Julian's eyes were drawn to a pile of discarded metal near the fence, and right on the edge of it he spotted a chunk of steel beam, about a foot long and thick enough to handle serious pounding.
It was a decent walk from the orphanage, but he made the trip that evening anyway. By the time he arrived, the sky was already starting to dim, but the foreman was still on site.
Julian explained what he wanted the beam for, straightforward and polite. The foreman, amused and impressed by the earnest ten-year-old asking for scrap to build a workshop, agreed to let him have it.
The walk back with the heavy piece of steel in his arms was a nightmare. His arms burned, his back ached, and he had to stop several times to rest.
But when he finally staggered into the orphanage courtyard, sweaty and exhausted, he was grinning.
He now had a forge, tools, metal, and a proper anvil substitute.
In other words, he had a real, usable workshop.