"Let me see which little wizard is sneaking around after hours—I'll—whoa! Professor Su—Professor Sullivan! What are you doing out here?"
Ever since he'd gotten his hands on that custom magic revolver, Filch's whole attitude had changed. His voice actually sounded cheerful for once. But spotting Sullivan still threw him completely off balance.
Sullivan waved him off casually. "It's fine. I brought a couple of kids out here to learn a few things. Nothing to worry about. Go patrol somewhere else."
"As you wish, Professor Sullivan!" Filch gave a quick bow and melted back into the shadows.
"Professor Sullivan, you're incredible," Ron blurted out once Filch was out of earshot. "Even Dumbledore doesn't get that kind of respect from him."
Harry's eyes were shining with pure hero-worship. Sullivan felt a little smug but kept his tone light. "It's no big deal. I just gave him a way to cast a couple of simple spells."
Ron and Harry looked even more stunned. Harry recovered first, but Ron—pure-blood kid raised in the wizarding world—couldn't wrap his head around it. "That's impossible! Squibs can't cast magic! Professor, how the hell did you pull that off?"
Harry caught on quicker. "It's that magic revolver, right? Fred and George keep bragging about how they're gonna earn one by the end of the year."
Sullivan nodded. "Yep. But the squib version is way more complicated to make. Keep that to yourselves for now—I don't need every squib in Britain knocking on my door."
"Don't worry, we swear we won't tell a soul," Harry promised solemnly.
Sullivan didn't believe that for a second—Harry was the kid who shouted his plans at the top of his lungs—but he didn't need them to keep it secret. Having a shared secret just made the two boys trust him more.
"Alright, you two should head back. The Mirror of Erised only shows illusions. Don't get too wrapped up in it or you'll lose yourself." Sullivan was ready to wrap things up.
Harry glanced back at the mirror one last time, then nodded. "Got it, Professor. We won't come back."
Sullivan clapped him on the shoulder and pulled two necklaces from his bag. "Take these. They'll give you some protection in a pinch."
"Whoa—this is too much," Harry protested. "The Magic Phone you gave us at Christmas was already fifty Galleons. These protective alchemy pieces have to cost a fortune."
Sullivan grinned. "You know that club I started? Raven's Feather?"
"Of course! George and Fred won't shut up about those raven rings," Ron grumbled, half jealous, half eager.
"Then keep the necklaces and work hard. Grow strong and earn your way into Raven's Feather. That's all the thanks I need." Sullivan let the offer hang there like bait.
Harry's eyes lit up with determination. "You can count on us, Professor! We'll be ready soon. Oh—and can we add you on FlyMessage?"
"Absolutely."
After the two first-years scurried off, Sullivan made sure the corridor was empty, then stepped up to the Mirror of Erised. He pulled out a whole array of scanning gadgets from his undetectable extension bag and got to work.
He'd wanted to do this the last time he was here, but Dumbledore had been watching. Now that he had the place to himself, he wasn't wasting the chance to study one of the wizarding world's legendary alchemy artifacts.
After a thorough scan, he didn't understand everything, but he could tell the mirror used magic to project a specific kind of light that created powerful illusions in the viewer's mind. The tech had serious potential—like blasting Lupin with a full-moon illusion and turning him into a rampaging, friend-or-foe nightmare in combat. Sullivan recorded every magical circuit he could detect, then slipped everything back into his bag and left.
Christmas break ended quickly. The little witches and wizards streamed back into the castle. Hermione arrived a day early and immediately started adding every Magic Phone owner she knew on FlyMessage—including Sullivan. She also brought him a simple Muggle mechanical watch. It wasn't fancy, but it was thoughtful, so he accepted it with a smile.
The new year brought some big changes to Hogwarts. The most obvious one was the Magic Phone—kids who had one instantly became the cool kids on the social scene. The second was Raven's Feather. The brand-new club was already the stuff of legends among the students.
Rumors flew: join Raven's Feather and Professor Sullivan would straight-up gift you a Magic Phone. The raven rings the members wore could supposedly cast a powerful shield charm and were worth a small fortune. All the wild stories made Raven's Feather the club every student wanted to join.
That turned Gemma Farley and the other four founding members into instant celebrities. None of it bothered Sullivan in the slightest—he was too busy.
His magical server project had hit a breakthrough. The moonstone's rune circuits were fully carved, but he still needed one last material to fill them before the whole thing could activate. And he knew exactly where to get it.
A black cat leaped through the open window—Coal Ball. The kneazle's eyes were bright with excitement.
"You're sure he's hunting a unicorn?" Sullivan's own eyes lit up.
Unicorn blood was the perfect catalyst for the moonstone. The creature naturally absorbed moonlight, so the resonance was ideal. The only problem? Unicorns were sacred and pure. Killing one brought terrible bad luck, and drinking their blood cursed you.
Sullivan didn't want that kind of curse on his head, but unicorn blood spoiled almost instantly once it left the body. Lucky for him, he knew someone at Hogwarts was already planning to hunt one. He'd told Coal Ball to keep an eye out during forest patrols and report back the second anything happened.
"Meow-meow-meow—" Coal Ball explained: Positive ID on the unicorn hunt. The guy went into the forest yesterday and failed. He'll be fully prepared today.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's move!" Sullivan jumped up.
Man and cat slipped out of the castle and headed straight for the Forbidden Forest. The second they crossed the tree line, Sullivan yanked the collar off Coal Ball's neck. The little black cat instantly swelled into a full-grown panther.
Coal Ball's nose was flawless. He followed the scent trail deep into the woods. Before long they found a glistening silver puddle—fresh unicorn blood. Sullivan crouched down. Part of it had already spoiled, but it was still recent. Not fresh enough for the server, though.
He was about to keep tracking when whoosh—thunk! Two arrows whistled out of nowhere, fast and deadly. Sullivan didn't need to guess who they belonged to—centaurs.
The last time he'd been in the forest with Hagrid, the centaurs had fired warning shots into the ground. This time the arrows were aimed straight at him and Coal Ball. The killing intent was unmistakable.
One arrow streaked toward Coal Ball; the other came right at Sullivan's chest. The panther twisted with cat-like grace and dodged easily. Sullivan was slower. The arrow slammed into the protective alchemy charm on his clothes, lighting up a white shield that absorbed the hit. The barrier flickered and dimmed a little, but held.
Sullivan didn't hesitate. He drew his wand with his right hand and layered on an iron-armor charm, then raised his left wrist to show the leather bracelet Firenze had given him.
Thwack-thwack-thwack! Three more arrows shattered the fresh armor spell, but the next several shots suddenly veered off at the last second. The bracelet had done its job—the centaurs had recognized the token and pulled their aim at the final moment.
Hooves thundered. Five centaurs burst from the trees. Sullivan scanned them—no Firenze. And these guys weren't friendly. They kept their spears leveled, eyes hard.
Coal Ball arched his back, fangs bared, letting out a low, dangerous growl. Sullivan's blood was boiling too. Those arrows had been meant to kill. If he and Coal Ball hadn't been quick, they'd be corpses right now.
The lead centaur—a black-coated brute with short, messy brown hair—snorted and motioned for the others to lower their weapons. "I am Bane, captain of the centaur hunting party. Human, why are you harming unicorns?"
Sullivan's temper flared. "I'm Professor Sullivan of Hogwarts. Which one of your eyes saw me hurt a unicorn? Do you centaurs always just guess with that water-logged brain of yours?"
"You dare insult our kind!" Bane thrust his spear forward until the tip hovered inches from Sullivan's face.
Shot at with arrows, now threatened with a spear—and I even showed my credentials. Even knowing the smart move, Sullivan was pissed.
He flicked his wand, Apparated a short distance away, then drew both magic revolvers and opened fire.
When you're outgunned, use tactics. When you're stacked, use overwhelming firepower. Sullivan went full saturation mode.
Both revolvers roared—spells blasting out at four shots per second. Blue flashes lit up his face, turning his usual handsome features ice-cold. Each curse was only Level 6–7 power, but centaurs weren't high-magic-resistance creatures. One solid hit and they were done.
He stuck to simple Sleeping Charms. The centaurs had never seen anything like the barrage. They scattered like panicked rabbits.
Five seconds later all five were on the ground. Four were out cold. Only Bane was still twitching, trying to push himself up.
Bane stared at Sullivan with a mix of rage, resentment, shock, and a flicker of regret. He knew exactly who Sullivan was. He knew the bracelet meant friendship with the herd. He knew how Sullivan had earned it. The second that bracelet appeared, Bane had realized Sullivan wasn't the unicorn hunter.
But Bane was a hard-liner. He'd voted against giving Sullivan the bracelet in the first place. Old habits died hard, so he'd met the wizard with suspicion and hostility.
Now he was paying for it.
Sullivan walked over, yanked the bracelet off his own wrist, and tossed it contemptuously onto Bane's chest.
"Take this back to Firenze. Tell him Sullivan doesn't want cheap, low-quality 'friendship' like this." His voice was ice. "And a word of advice—lose the arrogance. Not every wizard is as nice as I am. Next time someone might not leave you alive."
"As for the real unicorn hunter, I'll deal with him myself. No need for you idiots to worry about it."
With that, Sullivan and Coal Ball continued tracking the scent deeper into the forest.
He had no idea whether this would turn the entire centaur herd against him, but he didn't regret it. He already had the moonstone. If the centaurs wanted to be enemies, fine—he'd just avoid them from now on.
As for the four unconscious centaurs, Sullivan wasn't worried. Centaurs knew healing magic. Bane looked pathetic now, but he'd be back on his hooves soon enough.
Twenty minutes later they reached a small stream. There lay the unicorn—its silver-white coat glowing like moonlight, impossibly beautiful. Just looking at it filled the heart with peace.
Too bad the creature was collapsed on the bank, letting out soft, pained cries. A cloaked black figure crouched over it, clearly feeding.
Sullivan's eyes narrowed. He'd found his target.