"...You want me to kneel and beg?"
Theodore stared at the System's advice, at a rare loss for words.
"Have a little dignity, would you?"
Was Yuan Hong really that terrifying? He, a "disciple of the Chan Sect," did have backing—yet the System acted like meeting Yuan Hong was a near-death event.
He sifted through what he remembered of the Investiture tales—and grudgingly conceded the System might have a point. Yuan Hong could trade blows with Erlang Shen; a white-ape made wise, body like tempered steel, versed in the Eight-Nine Arcana. It had taken helpers to catch him alive, and a Slaying Immortal Flying Knife to finish him.
A bruiser. Not someone a newly "initiated" disciple should compare himself to.
Even so, heat flared behind Theodore's ribs.
If he did befriend Hagrid-as-Yuan-Hong... what would the rewards be?
"System, show me something worth dreaming about."
The pane filled with tight lines:
[Acquaintance with Yuan Hong → Talent: Copper Skin & Iron Bones.]
Blades do not pierce; fire and water do not harm; banes find no purchase; lifespan extended.
[Close Friend with Yuan Hong → Talent: Staff Mastery.]
With the One-Qi Water-Fire Staff, even immortals bow their heads.
[Life-and-Death with Yuan Hong → Eight-Nine Arcana (cultivation method).]
Body unmatched; "Copper Skin & Iron Bones" attains the adamantine state; change into myriad forms; mysteries profound.
Theodore's eyes went wide.
"Copper Skin & Iron Bones for mere acquaintance?"
Blades, fire, curses—all blunted; even longevity improved. Safety dial: max.
He wasn't a white-ape prodigy; he wouldn't reach Yuan Hong's absurd extremes. Still, he suspected your average nasty curse would feel like a scratch.
And the longevity bit… that was something. Voldemort had torn his soul to keep breathing—and look how that turned out. If he'd known that making friends with Hagrid might grant a talent that extends life, he'd have hurled his Horcruxes into the Thames and gone to tea.
"Staff Mastery" also looked tasty. Fine, magic is grand—but when it came to final blows, steel often had the last word. The basilisk hadn't died to a spell; it died to a sword. Nagini—same story. Sometimes, sticks and steel simply worked.
"Give me this staff talent and I'll be terrifying up close," Theodore murmured, amused and a little thrilled.
Still, both paled beside the Eight-Nine Arcana.
Eight-Nine Arcana. A top-tier Primordial art. If he could truly learn it, why bother with standard spellwork? Call the Founders, Merlin, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, Voldemort—line them up. He'd spar the lot.
He looked at Hagrid the way a dragon looks at a hoard.
Kneel and beg? The System could take the children's table.
He was making friends with this man if it killed him—not that he intended to let anything do that.
Hagrid, meanwhile, had the oddest sensation. He was used to strange looks—fear, suspicion; half-giants drew them even in the wizarding world. But Theodore's gaze wasn't fearful; it was… bright. Almost like the boy wanted to exchange blood-oaths on the spot.
Hagrid cleared his throat, soldiering past the discomfort.
"Deputy Headmistress McGonagall should've fetched yeh, but she's up to her eyes in work. I'm helpin' with the errands. I'll be takin' yeh into the wizardin' world."
"I'm Rubeus Hagrid, Hogwarts' gamekeeper."
"Where're your parents? First trip, they can come along."
Theodore offered his hand. "Theodore Ashbourne. I don't have parents—I'm an orphan."
Hagrid paused, thrown. People who lived in houses like this—with staff—were usually Muggle aristos. He'd not expected that.
"Sorry—I didn't know—"
"It's alright," Theodore said, calm. "I grew up in an orphanage. I… wrote some things that sold well. That's all."
"Oh—Hagrid, did you say 'gamekeeper'?" A beat. "Does Hogwarts have a game preserve?"
Hagrid blinked. Not the usual question. He scratched his beard.
"Er—aye and no. We don't hunt. I look after the grounds, keep an eye on creatures, an'—mostly—patrol the Forbidden Forest. Best place not to go if yeh value your limbs. But there are many lovely, furry—well, some of 'em—beasts in there."
Theodore's eyes lit.
"Magical creatures? Proper wizarding species?"
"I love animals," he said frankly. "The bigger the better. Fiercer the better. Big is beautiful; fierce is adorable. The biggest, fiercest are the cutest."
Hagrid brightened as though someone had set a lantern behind his ribs.
"Do yeh now? Thought I was the only one sayin' that. Folks get nervous round the ones I keep, but they're proper lovely, they are."
Lovely, Theodore thought, with a silent, private wince.
Yes. The Acromantulas were very "lovely." Ron Weasley nearly died of that kind of love.
But the door was open, and Theodore stepped through it cheerfully.
"Hagrid—have you heard of dinosaurs?"
Hagrid's eyes went puzzled, then eager.
"Dinosaurs? Dragons, d'yeh mean? By Merlin, I've always wanted a dragon—though 'pet' is a strong word— What breed's a dinosaur, then? I've not heard of it."
Theodore's mouth tipped into a smile.
"Not a wizarding dragon. Dinosaurs are Muggle-world creatures—from sixty-five million years ago. They were the planet's rulers until climate or a catastrophe finished them. All that's left are fossils."
"As it happens, I have a few specimens as a collection." He nodded toward a cabinet. "Care to see?"