Sullivan's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected that hitting Level 10 would come with a bonus like this. No wonder he'd felt Dumbledore's magic power was on an entirely different level when he destroyed the Philosopher's Stone.
The old man had clearly unlocked the Epic attribute for magic—maybe more than one. Since Level 10 came with the Proof of Epic, Levels 11 and 12 probably had other titles or bonuses waiting.
He checked the upgrade button for Alchemy. It had gone gray. Even when he didn't have enough skill points before, the button had never done that. It meant he couldn't add any more points to Alchemy until he finished whatever quest was tied to the Proof of Epic.
That also confirmed his theory about skill progression. Right now, even freshly leveled, crafting a true Epic-tier alchemical item was going to be a serious pain.
He didn't have any immediate ideas for the quest, and he wasn't even sure what exactly counted as an Epic-grade item. He'd figure it out eventually.
He still had two free skill points and one dedicated to Charms. Might as well push Charms to LV8. Charms boosted the power of pretty much every other type of magic anyway.
The June breeze felt lazy, and even the clouds seemed warmer. As the Hogwarts students plunged into end-of-year exams, Sullivan finally wrapped up his temporary gig as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
He also took off the anti-curse ring he'd been wearing. Back when Tonks got hit with the vampire count's curse, he'd lent it to her, and the potion inside the gem had already turned a deep blue.
After a month-plus teaching DADA, the liquid had darkened even more, edging close to pure black.
And that was with his Unicorn's Blessing helping. The Dark Lord's curse really was no joke. He'd need Snape to brew him a fresh batch of anti-curse potion soon.
Sullivan had figured he'd finally get some downtime after exams, but people kept showing up one wave after another.
First came the fifth- and seventh-years. Most of them just wanted to thank him. They'd been convinced their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were doomed under Quirrell's terrible teaching. Sullivan's last-month crash course and brutal China-style drill sessions had pulled their grades back up to solid levels.
Then Dumbledore stopped by. He was seriously impressed with Sullivan's teaching and offered him the permanent Defense Against the Dark Arts position for next year.
"No thanks," Sullivan said without a second's hesitation. He was half-tempted to tell the old man to take a hike.
"Don't refuse so fast—hear me out first!" Dumbledore said, completely unsurprised and already ready to lay out his terms.
"Nope, not listening. La la la." Sullivan slapped a Silencing Charm on himself and practically ran off. He didn't want to know what kind of offer Dumbledore had. He was afraid he might actually be tempted.
Dumbledore just shook his head as he watched Sullivan's back disappear. Looked like he'd have to go recruit—ahem—find another DADA professor.
The third group was the top students from Muggle Studies in third through seventh year. Back at the start of the year, Sullivan had promised the top scorer in his class a magic revolver.
He wasn't about to break his word. The sixth- and seventh-years got the full standard model.
The third- through fifth-years received the simplified "family edition"—the same version he planned to sell to Squibs. These had only three chambers: Cleaning Charm, Repair Charm, and Disarming Charm. Perfect for everyday use and basic self-defense.
After that crew left, the Raven's Feather kids showed up. None of the five had recommended any new members this year.
Partly because they'd been swamped since joining, and partly because of a little unspoken agreement among them—they didn't want Sullivan taking on too many apprentices just yet. The five of them were plenty for now.
Fred and George looked at him expectantly. Fred spoke first. "Professor Su, are we qualified to be your apprentices now?"
"Have you finished the Wizard's Chess app?" Sullivan asked instead of answering.
"Of course!" all five replied in unison.
They'd actually finished it a week ago but held off, waiting for Sullivan to ask so they could brag.
George, acting as spokesperson, eagerly sent Sullivan the install package. Sullivan opened it, ran a quick check, and nodded. "Excellent. You've all passed the test. You're officially my apprentices now. As your teacher, I've got a gift for you."
He sent each of them an install package. The icon was a map—the Marauder's Map, now built right into the Magic Phone.
"This is the Marauder's Map. Fred and George should recognize it. I integrated it into the phones," Sullivan explained.
"Awesome!" the twins shouted together and immediately pulled it up. They quickly noticed something was missing. Sullivan grinned. "Yep, exactly what you're thinking—I blocked all the teachers' locations. You can only use it to check passages and see where other students are."
"Of course, if you manage to crack my little teacher-blocking trick, I won't restrict you again."
Fred and George exchanged a look, eyes burning with competitive fire.
Once the kids left, Gemma Farley hung back, looking reluctant. She kept her head down, pulled a small box from her robes, and pressed it into Sullivan's hands. "Professor Sullivan, thank you so much for everything you've done for my family. This is just a small token of my appreciation. I hope you'll accept it."
Sullivan opened it. Inside was an alchemical ring that simply kept the wearer cool in summer—like a personal air conditioner.
He could whip up something like this in his sleep, but on the open market these went for one to five Galleons depending on materials. Gemma had clearly gone for the high-end version.
Not wanting to ruin the moment, Sullivan smiled and slipped the ring onto his pinky. "Thanks. I love it!"
Gemma's brain immediately went into overdrive: Professor Sullivan put the ring on his pinky… does that mean he's against marriage? Is he trying to tell me something—
"Hey! Time to head back," Sullivan waved a hand in front of her face. The girl snapped out of it, gave a quick bow, and hurried off.
---
The Great Hall was decked out in Slytherin colors for the final feast of the year—everything looked very green.
Thanks to Sullivan's butterfly effect, Harry and his friends hadn't lost two hundred points in one go, but thanks to Snape's efforts, Gryffindor still trailed Slytherin by quite a bit and sat in third place.
Snape looked positively pleased. His house had won the House Cup for six years running. This would be the seventh.
Sullivan sat next to him and grinned. "Think there's any chance Dumbledore gives Gryffindor a hundred points at the last second for a comeback win?"
"Shut up," Snape's face fell instantly.
"Want to bet? I bet Gryffindor takes it. Two bottles of Felix Felicis," Sullivan teased.
Snape turned away, ignoring him. Sullivan clicked his tongue. "Tsk tsk. Guess you don't have much faith in your own house if you won't even risk a couple bottles of Felix."
"Fine, you're on. Now shut that crow mouth of yours," Snape snapped.
They kept up the light banter until all the students arrived. Dumbledore stood up to speak.
"Another year gone! Before we enjoy these delicious treats, I must ask you all to listen to an old man's ramblings."
"What a wonderful year it's been! I'm sure your young minds are far fuller than they were—"
"You've got a whole summer ahead to digest everything before next term—"
"Now, as far as I know, we first have the House Cup to award. The points are as follows: Fourth place, Hufflepuff with 352 points; third, Gryffindor with 372; Ravenclaw with 426, and Slytherin with 472."
The Slytherin table exploded in cheers and foot-stomping. Harry saw Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table like an idiot.
At the staff table, Snape lifted his head proudly and shot Sullivan a smug look. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but Sullivan knew the guy was laughing his ass off inside.
"Yes, yes, well done," Dumbledore continued. "However, there are a few recent events that must also be taken into account."
Snape's smile didn't even last three seconds before Dumbledore's words hit. His face stiffened—he knew something was coming.
Sullivan leaned over and whispered, "What's wrong, Snape? Why'd you stop smiling? Is it because you don't smile? But smiles don't disappear—they just move from your face to mine."
The hall grew quiet. Even the Slytherins toned down their celebrating.
"Ahem," Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I have a few final points to award. Let's see… First—Mr. Ronald Weasley—"
Ron's face turned beet red, like a sun-dried tomato.
"For winning one of the most spectacular games of chess Hogwarts has seen in years, I award Gryffindor thirty points."
The Gryffindor cheers nearly blew the enchanted ceiling off. You could hear Percy bragging loudly to the other prefects, "That's my brother! My youngest brother! He made it through McGonagall's giant chess set!"
Once things calmed down, Dumbledore continued. "Second—Miss Hermione Granger—for keeping a cool head and using flawless logic in the face of flames, I award Gryffindor thirty points."
Hermione buried her face in her arms. Harry suspected she was crying. The Gryffindors around them went wild—they'd just gained sixty points.
"Third—Harry Potter—" The hall fell deathly silent.
"For displaying outstanding courage and bravery, I award Gryffindor forty points."
The noise was deafening. Students doing quick mental math realized Gryffindor was now tied with Slytherin at 472.
They were neck-and-neck for the Cup. If Dumbledore gave Harry just one more point…
Snape seemed to relax a little. A tie would be acceptable. But he was wrong to think that.
Dumbledore raised his hand again for silence.
"There are many kinds of courage," Dumbledore said with a smile. "It takes great bravery to face your enemies, but it also takes great courage to stand up to your friends. Therefore, I award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
If anyone had been standing outside the hall, they might have thought an explosion had gone off. The Gryffindor table erupted.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione jumped up cheering as Neville—pale with shock—was swallowed by the crowd hugging him.
He'd never won a single point for Gryffindor before. Harry elbowed Ron and pointed at Malfoy. Both boys burst out laughing.
"This means—" Dumbledore had to shout over the roar. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were celebrating Slytherin's sudden defeat.
"We need to make a few small changes to the decorations." He clapped his hands. The green banners turned scarlet, silver turned gold, and the huge Slytherin serpent vanished, replaced by a majestic Gryffindor lion.
Professor McGonagall looked thrilled. She stood up, walked over to Snape, shook his hand, and hugged him. Snape's face was completely black—no expression whatsoever.
Sullivan could understand why. Dumbledore's cheating had been blatant—clearly aimed at screwing Slytherin over. The fact that Snape hadn't flipped the table was a testament to his self-control.
If it had been Sullivan, he might have walked out on the spot. Then again, if Ravenclaw had won the Cup, he probably would've gotten a skill point out of it.
He glanced at a very pleased-looking Professor Flitwick in the distance. The little guy clearly couldn't be counted on. Sullivan would have to figure something out for next term himself.
But that was a problem for next term. Right now he had one more thing to handle. He bumped Snape's shoulder. "You ready?"
"Ready for what?" Snape didn't want to deal with him.
"The Hopping Pot. You didn't forget, did you?" Sullivan asked suspiciously.
"I've been ready. But there are a lot of suspicious details about this. Are you sure we shouldn't tell Dumbledore?" Snape sounded hesitant.
"Tell him what? We're professors now, not students. Besides, we never told him about stuff like this back in our school days either. Next Monday, Hogsmeade Village, meet at the Flying Feather Experience Store."
"Got it."
"Serpent and Eagle!"
"—Always triumphant."