They parted from Ollivanders, Hagrid checking his pocket watch every few steps and wearing the kind of face a man wears when three other errands are already late.
"Go on, Hagrid," Theodore said. "I can handle the rest—books, robes, the usual."
"Can' leave yeh alone in Diagon Alley," Hagrid rumbled, but Theodore's calm confidence—and the promise that he could have a car meet him from the Muggle side in fifteen minutes—finally pried the big man away. He left in stages, turning back three times, then vanished into the crowd.
Theodore breathed out. He liked Hagrid a great deal; he did not, however, like being walked through shops by the hand. And wandering alone meant chance encounters—and connections.
He hadn't gone twenty paces when a small shape drew level and a bright, breathless voice chirped, "Theodore Ashbourne? Are you Theodore Ashbourne?"
He turned. Brown, bushy hair. Brown eyes behind it, very direct. Front teeth a little rabbity—for now—and a kind of quietly explosive academic energy you couldn't stuff into a coat.
"Hermione Granger?" he said.
She blinked. "You know me?"
In another world, he might not have recognised her yet. But this wasn't another world. This was Hogwarts waiting to happen, and the wizarding world was small. That hair, those eyes, that posture, and the A-student gravity—if she wasn't Hermione, he'd… well, he wouldn't say what he'd do.
"Of course I know you. From—what was it—your school…"
"Buckland Primary," she said at once. "You gave a talk there. I… I went up after you." She winced. "You probably didn't notice; you left right away. You were very busy."
Theodore clicked his fingers softly. "That's it. I knew you the moment I saw you. And, for the record, Miss Granger: I did notice. You made a very strong impression."
Hermione just… stopped. She didn't even bristle at the faintly editorial tone he used; brilliance recognises brilliance. This was the literary prodigy of the papers. To be seen by him—the word flustered didn't begin to cover it.
"Th—thank you. I mean… is this your first time in Diagon Alley? Where's your guide?"
"I borrowed Hagrid too long," Theodore said, rueful. "There are other first-years waiting. And I like to browse alone. But since you're here—and look like you've mapped the place already—would you walk with me? I still need robes, books… and an owl."
She nodded before her sense caught up, and then they were walking, and she was trying not to stare, and he was (subtly) cataloguing her.
Not like that. She was eleven; he wasn't a monster. He was cataloguing because the System had pulsed the moment she arrived:
[You encounter, on a street of Chaoge, the young Deng Chanyu visiting the city.]
[Though the Investiture Calamity has not yet risen and she is young, her future talent—able to stone-strike immortals—is already showing; steel-nerved and capable.]
Theodore almost laughed aloud.
Young Deng Chanyu? He'd expected the System to mislabel her as some queenly schemer. But the more he thought about it, the more it fit. Hermione Granger: unflappable, overprepared, devastating in debate, and—when needed—perfectly happy to solve problems with a slap. He remembered descriptions: the bag that thumped like a murder weapon long before she knew Undetectable Extension Charms, the way she hauled Harry with one hand through the Whomping Willow passage, and that one time with Malfoy—open palm, no warning, and even a Seeker's reflexes didn't help him see it coming.
The System unrolled the rest, crisp and tempting:
[Acquaintance with young Deng Chanyu → Talent: Martial Proficiency (you handle most weapon forms with competent ease).]
[Close Friend → Talent: Mount Mastery (from hippogriffs to brooms to anything that lets you ride—unity of rider and mount).]
[Life-and-Death → Method: Five-Coloured Stones (train the art to cast stones that strike unerringly; enough to bruise gods and flatten demons).]
Theodore's fingers itched. Martial Proficiency wasn't the exalted "Staff-Through-Heaven" talent promised through Hagrid—yet it was easy: acquaintance-level. Put that together with Copper Skin & Iron Bones and his staff, and he'd turn corridors into his terrain. A hundred-to-one? Perhaps not. A dozen-to-one? Interesting odds.
And the stones… in myth they rarely killed—but in this world, not every opponent wore a god's body. A precise, no-chant, line-of-sight ranged option that didn't scream Dark Arts? He could work with that.
"Robes first," Hermione said, settling into guide mode. "Then books? I've made a list, but I want to buy two or three extra reference—"
"Perfect," Theodore said, smiling. "Lead the way, Miss Granger."
And as they fell into step—her explaining, him asking the right questions, the System quietly observing—a new line flickered at the pane's edge like a fish showing its back in a dark river:
[Progress toward Acquaintance (young Deng Chanyu): Advancing.]
He hid a grin. The Primordial world liked its parallels. So did he.
AUTHOR'S NOTE — BONUS & EARLY ACCESS
◇ I'll drop one bonus chapter for every 10 reviews(leave a review/comment!)
◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon: patreon.com/StrawHatStudios