At his silent command, the pane flickered and scrolled.
[Connections: King's Uncle Bi Gan (Life-and-Death), Spirit Crane (Close Friend), Yuan Hong (Acquaintance), young Deng Chanyu (Acquaintance), Forge Sect Master (Acquaintance), Beast-Taming Master (Acquaintance)]
[Grudges: Xiao Sheng & Cao Bao (Red-Eyed)]
[Talents (claimed): Seven-Apertures Heart; Night Vision; Windriding; Copper Skin & Iron Bones; Metallurgy & Refining; Martial Proficiency; Beast Affinity; Keen Hearing]
[Queued-on-bond: Mount Mastery (via young Deng Chanyu → Close Friend); Beast Rearing (via Beast-Taming Master → Close Friend)]
Then the changes settled into place.
Technique—so much technique—lived in him now: stance, timing, leverage; the bite of edge and the spring of shaft; bow draw and release; the grammar of fists. It didn't just lodge in his head. It slotted straight into muscle.
"From Hermione—Martial Proficiency."
Theodore wrapped his fingers around the weight of his metal staff, baton-wand riding quiet along the forearm bracer, and cut the air in a descending arc.
Wind pressed the shelves; the skin along his forearms flashed with that faint bronze-gold sheen.
A troll could have lumbered through the door and he'd have met it with crisp, ruthless swings. Copper Skin & Iron Bones + Martial Proficiency—cheats stacked on cheats.
Halfway through a form he paused, frowning. The patterns were… tightening. Smoother. Cleaner.
"Not just the Proficiency." He exhaled. "Seven-Apertures Heart."
In the tales, that talent made prime ministers out of scholars. Bi Gan's star after death was Wenchang, the Literary Star; insight like that didn't stop at books. Under its edge, even borrowed drills refined themselves—principles teased free, waste trimmed away. Given years, this path alone could grow to meet any "Divine Staff" he hoped to copy from Hagrid.
He stopped anyway, grinning. "Why grind when I can… befriend the grind?"
The staff's carvings rasped beneath his palm—and new awareness bloomed. Earlier he'd thought it seamless. Now he felt the joins: inlays from different eras, places where metal had been replaced, tiny hollows where rare alloys were missing. Ollivander's "not fully restored" wasn't a sales line.
His fingers found his fountain pen. The same sense unfurled: weight, balance, trace elements, how the steel had been heat-treated. With time and an adequate furnace he could make a twin. Even the Galleon on his desk whispered its metallurgy to him—composition, hardness, how it would flex or dent.
"Huh. Metallurgy & Refining is no joke."
He let a Galleon ride his thumb and snapped. The coin hissed across the room and thudded into a framed print, punching a tidy, coin-sized hole straight through.
"Weapon master. Wizards do not die to empty hands."
The thrill swelled. Talents didn't just stack—they combined. The pane had already hinted Sun & Moon Essence would pair with Dining on Wind & Drinking Dew. Why not push more synergies?
His eyes slid to the grey-black owl on the perch—Gale—watchful, pupils wide, plainly adoring.
"Beast Affinity," Theodore mused, "plus Mount Mastery, plus Windriding…"
The thought sprang up, ridiculous and glorious: owls as a mount. A single bird couldn't lift him. A dozen? Two? They were raptors; harnessed and guided, the lift was real. Riding shock and crosswind would be a nightmare—unless one had a rider's instinct and the wind itself on one's side.
No broom. No wandwork. No Ministry trace.
A human kite, pulled by owls.
The more he pictured it, the more it refused to leave.
He glanced out at the manicured, too-quiet lanes of his neighbourhood. No wilds. No roosts. Not a hoot to be heard.
His gaze returned to Gale. "You're male, right?"
Gale puffed up. "A most impressive male."
"Good. I need a favour." Theodore tried to keep his face grave and failed. "Go out and—ah—perform. Pretend to be a lady owl. Put on your best voice. Spread the word: generous board, steady work, and—" he coughed, valiantly— "a very competitive… donation package. Bring me every owl within a few dozen miles."
Gale blinked. Then, with the solemnity of a herald receiving a royal commission, he bowed.
"For you, master," he hooted, already smoothing his feathers for the role, "I shall be the most irresistible hen London has ever known." He cleared his throat, tried a breathier register, and beamed. "How was that?"
Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose, laughing under his breath. "Perfect. Go make friends."
Window latch, a soft scrape of metal; a rush of night air.
Gale vanished into the dark like a promise.
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