Two more talents. Theodore's grin tugged wider at the pane.
Worth every pound. Compared with these upgrades, the cash was pocket lint.
A small regret lingered: the bond with the post owl had stopped at Close Friend, not Life-and-Death—no Sun & Moon Essence yet.
Fair, really. Creatures follow profit and safety—most people do. He'd known Flanders for years; that made life-and-death possible. He'd met the owl tonight. Expecting a sworn-brothers pact was greedy.
When I get to Hogwarts, I should visit the Owlery. Build it up properly.
Sun & Moon Essence may or may not matter in a wand-world—but more is more.
He asked the post owl its name.
"Roberts? And you're in Owlery, cage seventeen?" He nodded. "I'll look you up when term starts—bring snacks."
Roberts flapped, pleased. "Good. Write your reply—I'll take it back. With luck, a professor will fetch you tomorrow."
"Do you know which professor?" Theodore asked quickly.
Roberts tilted his head. "Usually Professor McGonagall, the deputy. She's swamped this year—your cohort's a handful. If she can't come, Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds helps out. Big fellow; looks fierce, decent heart."
Theodore penned his acceptance on fresh parchment. Roberts took the letter, wheeled at the window, and—after a last wave of one wing—vanished into the dark.
Theodore watched the night swallow the owl. Then he murmured, "System, claim Night Vision and Windriding."
The pane refreshed:
[Connection: Spirit Crane (Roberts)]
[Tier: Close Friend]
[Rewards: Night Vision; Windriding]
The darkness changed. The street below bloomed into detail—brick seams, gutter shine, the furtive slink of a rat casing the bins.
"Not just night vision—my eyesight's better overall. No spectacles required? I'll take it." He chuckled. "Unadvertised benefits are the best kind."
He reached a hand into the night. The breeze slid around his fingers, cool and companionable, as if each current tipped a cap.
If he'd had a licence—or a broom—he'd have opened the throttle and cut a clean line through the air, just to see how the wind held him.
Lacking both, he sighed. "No flight tonight. Massage mode only."
A soft draft answered. It lifted and smoothed along his shoulders, a clean, not-quite-cool caress, as if dust were being brushed off his bones. Muscles unknotted. The sofa forgave him his weight, and the breeze rocked him into sleep.
He woke to a tremor in the wind.
He blinked at the window. "Bit noisy today, aren't we?"
He followed the vibration up into the clouds. A black dot cut the grey—growing, humming—then resolved into a flying motorbike.
"Hagrid," he breathed, a spark of anticipation lighting.
Flanders and Roberts had both paid out nicely in benefits. But Flanders was a Muggle, and Roberts an owl. Even a blind System shouldn't confuse them for Primordial powerhouses.
Hagrid was different. Expelled or not, wand snapped or not, he was Dumbledore's loyal man, Order of the Phoenix, half-giant to boot. If the System mapped him to a mythic heavyweight, the reward could be… substantial.
"Security," Theodore told Flanders over the phone, "a friend of mine is on his way. Please bring him to my study."
Flanders sounded surprised—Theo didn't do social calls—but obeyed.
A moment later, Flanders ushered in a mountain of a man in a moleskin coat and beetle-black eyes. The butler stopped dead.
A giant in eccentric clothes… as a friend? Unless, perhaps, this was some towering literary figure? Artists were artists; even public indecency could be "performance" if you said it with confidence.
Theodore, too, went still—but for a different reason. The pane flashed lines like falling tiles:
[In Chaoge, you chance upon Yuan Hong, first among the Seven of Meishan.]
[A white-ape made wise, eight-plus feet in height; handsome of face, terrible of strength.]
[Wields the One-Qi Water-Fire Staff; practised in the Eight-Nine Arcana; fierce by nature; fond of combat.]
[…]
[Warning: before the Calamity, Yuan Hong has not yet chosen a side and holds little love for the Chan Sect.]
[System advice: kneel and beg. You may live.]
Theodore glanced from the towering visitor to the crimson Warning and, very quietly, did not kneel.
Instead, he smoothed his cuffs, put on his best host's smile, and stepped forward.
"Rubeus Hagrid, I presume," he said warmly. "Welcome. I'm Theodore Ashbourne."