Malfoy's eyes locked on the small vial in Sullivan's hand and he shrank back instinctively. He had no idea Sullivan was bluffing.
"I—I overheard Weasley yelling in the common room," he stammered. "'Harry, Hagrid's dragon is about to hatch—we've gotta go!' I didn't know what dragon they meant." His gaze flicked nervously to the massive egg on the table.
"But I figured if they were sneaking out this late, they'd never make it back to the dorms on time. So I decided to follow them… so I could report it."
Sullivan turned to Hermione with a mocking grin. Her face flushed beet red. The words We swear we absolutely will not tell anyone else! were still ringing in the air.
Ron and Harry hung their heads. Hagrid looked like he might cry. With Malfoy knowing about the dragon, his secret-raising plan was toast.
Sullivan looked back at Malfoy. "If this were a dark wizard's secret, most of the time the wizard would just kill the eavesdropper outright. The rest of the time they'd turn the spy into a living Inferius puppet to control."
"Ah!" The scream came from more than just Malfoy—Hermione, Harry, and Ron all looked horrified.
Sullivan's tone shifted. "You should be grateful this is Hogwarts and that I'm a professor. Otherwise that would've been your fate."
Malfoy went deathly pale and nodded frantically. "I—I won't say anything! I swear!"
"I don't trust you, Master Malfoy," Sullivan said calmly. "You've got two choices. One: I hit you with an Obliviate and send you back to the castle. Two: you stay here and watch the dragon hatch—but you have to take an Unbreakable Vow."
Privately, Sullivan preferred the second option. Memory charms had loopholes, especially at Hogwarts—Dumbledore might notice. An Unbreakable Vow was ironclad. He dangled the bait of watching a real dragon hatch, something even a rich kid like Malfoy had never seen.
Malfoy's eyes lit up. "Second option!"
The vow was simple. Hagrid was the oath-taker, Malfoy the binder, and Sullivan the witness. Sullivan wrote the exact wording himself so Malfoy couldn't wiggle out with clever loopholes.
Minutes ticked by. Crack. The first hairline fracture appeared on the dragon egg. The kids watched with wide-eyed wonder. Hagrid clapped both hands over his mouth, on the verge of happy tears.
Sullivan's attention was on the runes covering the shell. Through his special glasses he saw the magical circuits shatter the instant the egg cracked.
It happened so fast he barely had time to react. Did the shell become useless the second the dragon was born?
He snatched up the piece Norbert had just pushed off and studied it. Most of the runes had vanished, but the shell could still absorb external energy—just not as efficiently, and it no longer needed open flames. All that energy was converted straight into magic and stored inside the shell, turning it into the perfect first meal for the hatchling.
Got it. Sullivan relaxed. As long as it could still absorb and convert energy, the shell was still useful. The moment baby Norbert tried to eat the shell, Sullivan stopped him and shoved a chunk of troll meat into the dragon's mouth instead.
Troll meat was loaded with magic. Snape had processed it, which made it expensive—Sullivan had paid ten Galleons for a small bag. He made a mental note to complain about Snape's stinginess later.
Norbert instantly forgot about the shell and went after the troll meat. Sullivan quickly scooped up the rest of the eggshell. Perfect. Now the server has a real magic-power source. All that's left is seeing what the Philosopher's Stone can do.
Hagrid was already cooing, "Come here, baby—come to Mama, I've got more meat for you!" Norbert snapped up the dried meat from Hagrid's hand. When Hagrid tried to hug him, Norbert sneezed and a tiny jet of flame shot out, nearly singeing off the half-giant's beard.
The kids burst out laughing. Even Malfoy looked less obnoxious. After all, he was only eleven. Sharing a secret like this might actually change the little brat.
Once Hagrid had his fill of baby-dragon cuddles, Sullivan pulled out a steel needle to draw a blood sample. The blood would go into the shrinking collar so the device could sync with Norbert.
"Su—that needle looks huge!" Hagrid backed away, cradling Norbert protectively.
Hermione nodded. "Professor Sullivan, Norbert's still tiny. Can't you use a smaller one?"
Sullivan rolled his eyes at the bleeding-heart crowd. "Fine, I don't care. We can wait until he's bigger. But if anyone spots him, that's on you."
That worked instantly. Hagrid caved and held Norbert steady while Sullivan drew the blood. The half-giant looked like a four-hundred-pound kid who'd just been told Santa wasn't real.
With the blood sample, Sullivan assembled the shrinking collar on the spot. Once it clicked around Norbert's neck, the dragon shrank dramatically. He now looked like a cute little dragon-shaped magical toy that could fit inside Hagrid's sleeve.
"Perfect," Sullivan said, dusting his hands. "Now you can take him outside and just say he's a magical plush."
Hermione piped up, "Professor Sullivan, so the big cat that's always with you… she's a magical creature too?"
"Yep. A kneazle. Born with natural Legilimency. She can read every thought in your head." Sullivan grinned wickedly.
The three kids suddenly looked very guilty and scooted farther away from Coal Ball.
With everything settled, Sullivan headed back to the castle. From then on he dropped by Hagrid's hut every few days—partly to check the collar's effect on Norbert, partly to sneak extra dragon blood for his experiments on turning the eggshell into a permanent magic battery.
He also kept an eye on the Magic Phone factory. The phones were an absolute phenomenon in Britain now.
Every day the factory filled the Stewart and Farley family orders first, then sold whatever was left on the spot. Demand was so high they sold out the instant stock hit the shelves.
More and more wizards owned Magic Phones, which made everyone without one look painfully outdated. Wizards who'd gotten used to instant messaging suddenly found owl post annoyingly slow. Friendships with non-phone owners quietly faded.
To keep from being left out of their social circles, pure-blood aristocrats started showing up, offering huge markups to buy phones second-hand.
Filius was a thirty-five-year-old wizard born and raised in Hogsmeade. His magic was weak and his grades had always been average—at best. He'd scraped an "A" on his O.W.L.s but only a "T" on his N.E.W.T.s. After graduation he couldn't get into the Ministry or a decent workshop, so he scraped by doing odd jobs in the village.
Last month he'd watched everyone else using Magic Phones and finally caved. He spent nearly every Galleon he had and bought one.
The phone was fantastic. He chatted with friends every day and joined a bunch of random group chats. The people in those groups were hilarious and easy to talk to, even if he didn't know them in real life.
One afternoon he was walking past the Flying Feather Experience Store when an expensively dressed wizard stormed out, furious. "Why don't you just increase production?! This is my third trip and you're still sold out! Where's all the stock going? You've got money sitting on the table and you're too stupid to take it!"
The man spotted Filius holding a phone and his eyes narrowed. "You—come here!"
Filius froze. This guy was clearly old-money pure-blood. He didn't dare refuse. "Y-yes, sir? How can I help?"
"Give me your phone. I'll pay you eighty Galleons."
Filius couldn't believe it. He'd bought the phone for fifty Galleons just a week ago. Without hesitation he factory-reset it and completed the sale. He walked home grinning, pockets heavy with gold.
Then an idea hit him. The store sold out every single day. People were lining up for hours and still going home empty-handed. If he queued up early, bought as many phones as he could, and resold them for a ten-Galleon markup… he'd be rich.
The only problem: he only had ninety Galleons total—barely enough for two phones. So he marched to Gringotts, mortgaged his little house in Hogsmeade, and took out a fifteen-hundred-Galleon loan. That afternoon he planted himself at the front of the store line.
The next morning when the store opened, Lupin greeted him. Filius asked for thirty phones.
Lupin nearly had a heart attack. The factory only made about forty-five units a day, and half of those were already promised to America and the rest of Europe. There was no way.
In the end Filius walked away with twenty-one phones—cleaning out the entire day's stock in one minute. The long line behind him stared in disbelief.
The customers grumbled, but with no phones left there was nothing they could do. As they left the store they found Filius standing outside with a handmade sign around his neck:
Magic Phones – 60 Galleons each. Limited stock. First come, first served!
The crowd gasped. In less than five minutes this guy had turned a ten-Galleon profit on every single phone.
Some wizards stormed off in disgust. Others—rich but short on time—bought from him on the spot.
By the end of the day Filius had sold all twenty-one phones and pocketed two hundred and ten Galleons. That was three or four months' wages at the workshop.
He'd found a gold mine. For the next few days he repeated the routine, paying off the Gringotts loan in five days flat and pocketing another thousand Galleons on top.
The good times didn't last. Other people quickly caught on and started fighting for spots in line.
Lupin noticed the chaos ruining the customer experience and messaged Sullivan. Sullivan's solution was simple: limit purchases to one phone per customer.
But where there's a rule, there's a workaround. Filius started recruiting idle villagers and even a few goblins. He paid them three Galleons each to queue for him.
When Sullivan stopped by the store that day, he walked right into Filius's crew facing off against another group of would-be scalpers. Both sides—wizards and goblins—were armed. Wands were out, knives were drawn, and a full street brawl was about to explode.
The regular customers had already backed away. Lupin and Teemo stood guard at the door, ready to protect the shop.
Just then—pop-pop-pop—several figures Apparated in and surrounded the two groups. Kingsley Shacklebolt was at the front. "Nobody move! Auror Department! Drop your wands and weapons. Starting a brawl in the middle of Hogsmeade? You lot looking to spend some quality time in Azkaban?"
Kingsley's voice froze everyone in place. The slower ones immediately dropped their wands and knives. The smarter ones turned and ran. (Anyone who could Apparate probably wasn't desperate enough to be a scalper in the first place.)
Sullivan hadn't expected a goblin-wizard street fight, but the real surprise was the person standing beside Kingsley.
Tonks.
She was wearing a sleek black dress, little leather boots, and her hair was a stylish cascade of brown curls. She looked every bit the confident young Auror.
The second she saw Sullivan her professional mask cracked. She sprinted over and threw her arms around him in a tight hug.
"I heard your store was in trouble and I got so worried! Thank Merlin you're okay."