Feeling Theodore's grip and hearing his easy, "C'mon, Ron," the odd outsider's ache in Ron's chest popped like a soap bubble. He shook himself, lengthened his stride, and kept pace with the others.
The barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters rushed up to meet them. Theodore's eyes sparkled; he took the lead and slipped through—
—into a wrought-iron archway and the crimson steam engine, brass plate gleaming: HOGWARTS EXPRESS — Eleven O'Clock.
Even after reading about it so many times, the real thing hit different. He was actually here.
That thrill sweetened further when Harry and Ron came through behind him. Theodore didn't dislike either of the canon "trio"—far from it. Harry had endured a lifetime's worth of hurt and still met the world with courage instead of bitterness. Ron lacked Hermione's academics and Harry's mystique, and even had that infamous falling-out in the book—but he was the friend who always came back. Ron was to Harry what Sam was to Frodo: without him, the hero never reaches the end.
Having Ron as a friend was a blessing.
Not that Theodore planned to fawn over them. If he'd pulled them in, it was mostly because…
…the rewards on them were ridiculous.
As Theodore's gaze brushed Harry and Ron, new lines scrolled up his System pane:
You and young Deng Chanyu leave Chaoge for the Chan Sect's Jade Void Palace, and on the road you befriend youth Nezha and youth Lei Zhenzi.
Both are vanguards of the Investiture Calamity, steeped in extraordinary fortune. Befriend them for great benefit.
Theodore's eyes narrowed. Nezha and Lei Zhenzi? So the System was mapping Harry to Nezha?
Honestly… it tracked.
Nezha: spirit pearl reborn, born powerful.
Harry: carrying a shard of Voldemort—call it "Horcrux rebirth"—and preternaturally strong magic; his raw output showed in charms like Accio and the Patronus. Nezha's lotus body ignored soul attacks; Harry's embedded shard likely explained his high resistance to the Imperius. Even the "kills a dragon" rhyme with second-year Harry slaying a thousand-year Basilisk. The System's eye wasn't bad.
As for Ron as Lei Zhenzi—tall and lanky like the thunder boy, and that shock of red hair. Fair enough.
He filed away the why; the what mattered more: the rewards.
Nezha — Acquaintance: Innate Divine Strength. Tear tigers and bears as a warm-up; with training, slay dragons. (Synergises with Copper Skin & Iron Bones, causing a qualitative leap.)
Nezha — Close Friend: Lotus Body Protection. Immunity to soul-type magic: Imperius, Legilimency, even Stunning and hallucinations; no risk of qi deviation.
Nezha — Life-and-Death Bond: Three Heads, Eight Arms. Once invoked, both mana and physique surge; a direct, massive combat upgrade.
Theodore's hand tightened around his staff.
Copper Skin & Iron Bones boosted defence first, strength second. Innate Divine Strength did the opposite—primary muscle, secondary tank. Stack them, and you got a monster. Lotus Body Protection was absurdly practical—basically hard counters Imperius, Legilimency, and garden-variety knockouts. But the crown jewel was the Life-and-Death Bond: Three Heads, Eight Arms. A true Divine Power, not mere spellwork. Even if it wasn't Heaven-and-Earth's Full Manifestation, it was still a tier above everyday magic. Also… imagine Theo with extra arms, each holding a wand—Gatling-wand tempo, anyone?
He flipped to Lei Zhenzi:
Lei Zhenzi — Acquaintance: Sky-Dance on the Wind. Dramatically improves aerial mobility; your accuracy and technique in the air equal or surpass the ground.
Lei Zhenzi — Close Friend: Winged Thunder. Greatly boosts flight speed; enhances control of wind and lightning magic.
Lei Zhenzi — Life-and-Death Bond: Deep, Abiding Fortune.(Qi-luck enhancement.)
Theodore's grin edged feral. Another luck buff on the table! Between Voldemort's "Duobao" track and Ron's "Lei Zhenzi" track, his fate line was turning shiny.
Hogwarts wasn't going to be the end of the reward list, either. It was the start. He'd picked the right school.
A moment later, he set his term goals with embarrassing clarity:
I, Theodore Ashbourne, have a dream.
Not to be a pop idol—wrong script. To become Hogwarts' Premier Social Butterfly.
The Express whistled and rolled into the countryside. Soon the corridor outside their compartment rattled loudly; a dimpled witch slid the door open with a smile.
Theodore's brain, primed by a lifetime of memes, almost blurted: "Peanuts, seeds, eight-treasure porridge—get 'em hot!" Wrong universe.
The real hustle put the Muggle snack world to shame anyway. Did these people realise how much IP value sat inside a Chocolate Frog card? This was 1991—Muggle "collectable card snacks" hadn't even properly exploded yet, and the wizarding world was already doing SSR pulls.
The trolley witch leaned in conspiratorially. "Big fright yesterday, wasn't it, dears? The Chocolate Frog makers have made a… difficult, tradition-breaking decision. To soothe first-years today: buy ten Frogs, and you're guaranteed one rare card."
She dropped her voice even lower. "And between us—no Dumbledore in this batch. No pool pollution. Prime time for a full collection."
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