Theodore drew a long breath and let the tension ebb away.
Nailed it.
He flicked his gaze to the System pane as fresh lines unfurled:
[Current Bonds]: Bi Gan (Life-and-Death), young Deng Chanyu (Life-and-Death), Spirit Crane (Close Friend), Forge Sect Master (Close Friend), Beast-Taming Sect Master (Close Friend), young Nezha (Close Friend), young Lei Zhenzi (Close Friend), Yuan Hong (Acquaintance), Long-Eared Dingguang Immortal (Acquaintance)
[Current Foes]: Duobao (Treasures Elder) (To-the-Death), Xiao Sheng & Cao Bao (Blood-Feud), Chong Heihu (Blood-Feud)
[Unlocked Rewards]: Five-Colour Stone Method, Seven-Apertures Heart, Copper Skin & Iron Bones, Smooth-Fire, At-Will, Metallurgy & Silver-Refining, Beast Affinity, Beast-Breeding Mastery, Martial Proficiency, Night-Sight, Windriding…
(Unclaimed: Innate Divine Strength, Lotus Body Protection, Sky-Dance on the Wind, Winged Thunder, Twin-Axe Chain, Flying-Tiger Drill, Veil the Breath.)
Seeing that hoarder's list gave him the satisfied glow of a hamster in a warehouse of sunflower seeds.
Also a headache. He'd barely arrived at school and already had an armful of talents. Give it a term of handshakes and tea at Hogwarts and he'd be sifting a hundred boons—half forgotten, many redundant.
Good thing the Talent Fusion tab came with the upgrade.
At the pane's bottom, a little furnace icon pulsed. When Theodore focused on it, prompts surfaced:
[Talent Fusion]: Refine unneeded talents into Dao Rhyme; expend Dao Rhyme to level up other talents.
Fuse overlapping talents into one; the strongest seed is preserved, with a chance to break through to a higher tier.
Breakdowns and limit-breaks? Theodore smirked. System, you've been playing the same games I have.
Where to start? His core kit did most of the lifting—Copper Skin & Iron Bones for offence-and-defence in one—but a lot of fringe bits could be melted down to feed the main tree. Or he could pour Dao Rhyme into Dining on Wind & Drinking Dew/Sun & Moon Essence-style gatherers long term. Either path screamed value.
While he weighed menus, the Sorting ended. Dumbledore rose, arms spread, eyes twinkling as if nothing pleased him more than a hall full of students.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before we feast, I must say only this—"
"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
He sat. The hall applauded; Theodore pulled his attention off the pane because Harry leaned over, uncertain.
"Er… is Professor Dumbledore a bit—um—eccentric?"
Theodore shook his head. "The opposite. He sees very clearly."
He kept his voice low, for their corner only.
"That little bundle is a mirror. Ravenclaw's prejudice: everyone else are nitwits. Gryffindor's: the rest are cry-babies. Slytherin's: non-pure-bloods are dregs. Hufflepuff's: everyone else is twisted. He's holding up a picture so we take a hard look at ourselves."
Hermione blinked. Ron blinked harder. Even Percy faltered.
"Is that… actually so?" Percy whispered. "Then why didn't the Headmaster say it plainly?"
Theodore shrugged. "Teach enough years and you learn some truths land better when you reach them yourself."
A ripple of gasps rolled the length of the hall.
Every head turned to the staff dais. Even Dumbledore's brows climbed.
"Sybill?"
Professor Trelawney stood as if yanked by puppet strings, eyes glassy. Her vacant gaze combed the students; then a raw whisper filled the rafters.
"I behold…
"The era of the Four Founders wanes. A new Four rise.
"Secrets of the ancient will unseal. They will return."
Her face snapped back into focus. "Why are you staring? I—did I say something?"
Laughter scattered like spilled beads.
Percy leaned toward the table of new lions. "Divination professor. Puts on airs. Predicts a death every year—none so far. Probably trying to make an impression so you pick her elective in third year."
That satisfied most of the first-years. It didn't satisfy all of the staff.
Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a look. They knew Sybill's real trances. When she went vacant, prophecies happened.
Even the thing inhabiting Quirrell hissed in his skull. The Dark Lord was a victim of prophecy; he would not take another lightly. Understand it. The new Four—who? Find them.
Theodore's eyes had that far-off glint again. Sybill Trelawney, descendant of Cassandra—the seer cursed to be right and not believed—her family line ran back to Greece. Canon proved her trances hit far more often than they missed.
But canon never mentioned this prophecy here.
Because of me?
The canon "Golden Trio" was now four; had his presence twisted the thread? And "ancient secrets"… what did that point to?
He shelved the questions. The timing of prophecies was a miserable business—sometimes a decade out. By then, he mused, he might well be laying down a Zhu-Xian array.
If the returning ancient was kind, they could be friends. If not… well, ashes blow far on a good wind.
No more disturbances followed. As in the books, Dumbledore rattled off his baited safety announcements, they sang the school song, and at last the first-years were shepherded to their dorms.
Theodore, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Seamus shared a room. Within minutes, everyone but Harry—twitching through a bad dream—was out cold.
Theodore's eyes were very much awake.
"Right, then. Time to harvest."
Innate Divine Strength. Lotus Body Protection. Sky-Dance on the Wind. Winged Thunder. Twin-Axe Chain. Flying-Tiger Drill. Veil the Breath…
"System—claim them all."
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