"Like your ring?" Harry asked, pointing at Julian's right hand where Sanar sat on his pointer finger, catching the light from the forge fire with a soft gleam.
Julian shook his head. "I was thinking of shaping theirs like little smithing hammers, with the handles wrapping around as the band," he replied honestly.
Harry's face lit up. "Because they work with metal!" he said, excited now that he understood Julian's train of thought.
"Yeah. I figured they would get a kick out of it," Julian chuckled. "I will admit it helps that it is a pretty simple design."
He grabbed the copper from the fire again now that it was hot enough, and returned it to the makeshift anvil. Once more, he began to strike the metal, carefully stretching it a bit longer and thinning it little by little. Every so often he lifted it to eye level to check for uneven spots, then hammered out any areas that were still too thick.
When he was satisfied that the copper was uniform in thickness, he set it aside and picked up a small ingot of iron, which he tossed into the flames.
"Why did you put that other piece of metal in the fire?" Harry asked, frowning.
Julian wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned back against the shed wall. Iron was stubborn stuff. It would take a while to reach workable heat.
"I need that iron to make a temporary chisel," he explained. "I will use it to segment the copper properly without messing up its proportions. Most smiths do something similar if they realize they are missing a tool."
"So if you need a tool, you just make it instead of going out to get one?" Harry asked, still wrapping his mind around that idea.
"If I have the skill and the material, why would I not make it myself instead of paying someone else to do it?" Julian asked in return.
Harry mulled that over and then nodded slowly. "Yeah, that does make sense," he admitted.
"We are going to be here for a while," Julian said in a relaxed tone. "Iron takes a bit to heat up to a usable temperature."
Harry slumped in place. "Is every crafting session this boring?" he asked helplessly.
Julian laughed. He is going to hate Potions with this level of impatience, he thought, then amended it silently, well, even more than just because Snape will be breathing down his neck the whole time.
"Tell you what, mate," Julian said out loud. "Go entertain yourself and leave the actual crafting to me. I will show you the finished product later, alright?"
"Probably for the best. I do not think this is for me, Julian," Harry sighed.
Julian just gave him a reassuring smile. "It is not for a lot of people. Do not worry about it. It does not bother me."
As Harry turned to go, Julian's thoughts drifted back to his first life, sitting in front of those books and laughing at how the Golden Trio's impulsive decisions kept snowballing into disasters.
Never thought I would get to see it play out in person, he thought with a faint touch of melancholy.
He had not lied to anyone in this world about his memories. Aside from the legal name on this body, there was nothing left of its original owner. His memories from his previous life, though, were still there, just… blurring at the edges.
They were fading, piece by piece, growing dimmer as more time passed.
He had a theory about that.
This world, he suspected, was actively trying to purge anything that did not belong to it. His memories of another universe clashed with the laws here, so the world itself was slowly grinding them away. That would also explain why his knowledge of the books remained intact. From this world's perspective, knowing the story might qualify as a sort of divination, a glimpse into a possible future, rather than a contradiction.
It kind of sucks that I cannot hang onto the important details from my old life, Julian thought with a quiet sigh. Some of that could be really useful. But it is what it is.
He glanced over at Harry and blinked. "Why are you still here?" he asked.
Harry froze, realized he had just been standing there doing nothing, and left the shed with an embarrassed look on his face.
Julian chuckled at his awkwardness and turned his attention back to the forge. Now that it was just him and the fire, he settled into the patient rhythm of waiting for the iron to heat.
It took about ten minutes. A fireplace could only burn so hot, no matter how much fuel you fed it.
When the iron was ready, Julian grabbed it with a pair of cold tongs and laid the block on the improvised anvil. Without hesitating, he brought his hammer down on one of the corners.
Again and again, he struck the same edge, gradually beating it into a wedge shape. He then refined that wedge, beveling it until it resembled a dull, crude blade. It was ugly, but sturdy enough for what he needed.
A functional chisel.
He set the iron tool aside for the moment and returned the stretched copper bar to the fire to bring it back up to the perfect working temperature, the steady crackle of flames filling the small shed as he prepared for the next step.