Avery Manor, back in the underground workshop tucked under the estate's rear gardens, Jack Avery paced between the workbenches, checking on his team's progress.
The place was a mess—half-assembled Magic Phones scattered everywhere, their casings pried open like little metallic corpses. One guy was spraying white light from his wand over a gutted phone, mapping the rune circuits. Another was trying to duplicate a component with raw materials. A third scribbled notes on parchment like a mad scientist.
These were the alchemists Avery had quietly recruited over the past few months. Their one and only job: crack the Flying Feather Magic Phone and figure out how the hell it worked.
Jack Avery wore a lot of hats—current head of the Avery family, head of the Department of Mysteries' third division, one of Hogwarts' governors, and, once upon a time, a Death Eater.
He was proudest of that last one. Not many people walked away from Voldemort's fall with zero consequences and still kept a cushy Ministry job.
Lately, though, he had two major headaches.
The first had shown up a few weeks ago in the form of a letter from his old boss—the Dark Lord. It ordered Avery to lure Dumbledore away from Hogwarts to the Ministry on a specific date.
Truth was, Avery's loyalty to Voldemort had always been paper-thin. He'd joined the Death Eaters purely for the family's benefit. He'd kept his identity so secret that even most of the inner circle never knew who he really was. After Voldemort supposedly died, Avery had spent more than a decade quietly laundering every shady gain into legitimate Avery family business.
He'd figured that chapter was closed. He could just be the respectable patriarch rebuilding the family fortune. Then the letter arrived, and his stomach had been in knots ever since.
Deep down he wanted no part of it—whatever Voldemort was planning, going after Dumbledore meant real risk of exposure. But refusing the Dark Lord? That wasn't an option. The man's power still terrified him. So Avery had done what he was told. Afterward… silence. Voldemort dropped off the map again, like the whole thing had been a bad dream. Avery had finally started to breathe easier.
His second headache was the damn Magic Phone.
It had launched at the end of last year and hit like a nuke. In six short months nearly twenty-five hundred witches and wizards across Britain were already using them—roughly one in five of the entire population.
For the Averys, that was a disaster. Their main business was owl breeding and training; they supplied about eighty-five percent of Britain's owls. The phones had gutted that market. Sales were down thirty-five percent year-over-year.
Three months ago Avery had quietly set up this reverse-engineering lab. He was going to steal the technology and carve out his own slice of the pie.
He'd even tried the "civilized" route first—inviting the inventor over for a friendly dinner and some polite negotiation. But the intel that came back made his blood run cold.
The guy had MACUSA backing. He was a Hogwarts professor. And the factory manager in Hogsmeade? One of Dumbledore's people. Avery had every reason to suspect Dumbledore himself was involved—after all, the old man had worked with Nicolas Flamel and discovered twelve uses for dragon blood. In alchemist circles he was basically a legend.
Worse, the inventor's name was Su Yu—a Chinese wizard. Avery's memory flashed back more than a decade. He and a squad of elite Death Eaters had been sent to capture a Chinese alchemist named Su Yu alive. Ten of them. Voldemort's personal orders.
They'd laughed at first. Just some alchemist? Piece of cake.
They were wrong.
The house was a death trap—hidden wards, magical mines, the works. One guy was critically injured before they even reached the front door. The door itself was locked by a cup of water laced with brain-eating worm eggs. Nasty little bastards that would hatch inside you, burrow into your skull, and start controlling your thoughts.
They picked Avery to drink it. (He still refused to admit it was because he was the weakest link in the room.) After a quick beating to "encourage" him, he downed the cup. The others yanked the worms out with a Cleansing Charm before they could do real damage. In his private diary he'd written a single dignified line: Death Eaters are a united front. I gladly make small sacrifices for the greater good.
Inside the house it got even worse—endless traps, illusions, curses. They lost two men. Four more were badly wounded. And Su Yu still slipped away. The survivors all got punished by Voldemort.
Now Avery couldn't stop wondering: was this the same guy?
While he was lost in thought, a wizard in his fifties approached. "Lord Avery, we've essentially reverse-engineered the manufacturing process. We should have working copies inside a month."
Avery's face lit up—then tightened. "Cost per unit? And production time?"
The alchemist looked embarrassed. "Rough estimate… thirty Galleons per phone. One craftsman working alone would need about two days."
Avery's expression darkened. The wizard rushed to add, "But that's only our first pass, sir. Once we get more familiar with the design, both the cost and time will drop significantly."
Avery relaxed a fraction—until his own Magic Phone buzzed with a system notification.
Dear user, Magic Phone 2.0 is now live. Tap to install.
This update adds:
1. Magical Network service — tap for details ▼
2. FlyMessage Moments — connect to the Magical Network and share your daily life and mood with friends ▼
3. Wizard's Chess (mobile version) — invite friends anytime for epic matches on the go ▼
Avery stared at the screen, brain short-circuiting. Every single word made sense, but put together they might as well have been written in Ancient Runes.
He and the team tapped through the details, installed the update, and tried the new features.
When they finished, the entire workshop went dead silent. One thought echoed in every mind: We haven't even finished copying the first version… and they already shipped an upgrade.
"How the hell did they build the Magical Network?" Avery demanded.
The alchemists hemmed and hawed, then admitted, "We… we'll need to study the updated phones before we can give you an answer, sir."
"You're telling me you want to tear apart more phones?" Avery's voice cracked with frustration.
These units had been bought from scalpers at seventy to eighty Galleons each. They'd already disassembled over a dozen. Another round would hurt even his deep pockets.
He stormed out of the underground lab in a foul mood and snapped his fingers at a waiting house-elf. "Go dig up everything you can on this Su Yu's past in America. And find out where he lives."
Avery needed to know exactly who he was dealing with before deciding the next move. If necessary… force was still on the table.
Meanwhile, in Devon, just outside Ottery St. Catchpole, the Weasley family's crooked little house—the Burrow—buzzed with summer energy.
Ron had been home two days, and his status had skyrocketed. Besides the twins and their dad Arthur, he was the only one with a Magic Phone. Molly had skipped buying one to save money, and little Ginny was glued to his side, begging to see the photos of him and Harry. Her sweet-talking was so sugary Ron's blood sugar felt like it was spiking.
Even Percy—usually too proud to admit envy—kept shooting him jealous glances.
Back at the start of term Sullivan had actually offered Percy a spot, but the stuck-up prefect had turned him down flat. Muggle Studies? No future. Percy was destined for the Ministry's top floors.
After the phones launched, Percy realized how badly he'd misjudged. He'd tried again—only for Sullivan to politely shut him down and tell him to focus on his studies if he wanted a Ministry career.
Later he'd heard about Raven's Feather and begged the twins to recommend him. They ignored him completely. So now Percy could only watch his younger brothers with quiet envy.
Ron was in the middle of texting Harry—listening to him complain about the Dursleys—when the update notification popped up.
Wizard's Chess? He tapped install without a second thought.
Three new icons appeared: the network connection, a chessboard, and an app store.
He connected, opened FlyMessage, and spotted the new "Moments" tab. Hermione had already posted: Another productive day! with a picture of a towering stack of magic textbooks.
Ron rolled his eyes and typed: Get outside once in a while. You're already top of the year—stop living in the library.
Hermione replied instantly: Being top doesn't mean anything. I have to keep feeding my thirst for knowledge.
Then Neville chimed in: Hermione you're amazing. I want to learn from you too.
Ron grinned. This Moments thing was fun. He snapped a quick selfie and posted: Summer vacation—happy mode activated!
Next he checked the app store—only one package: Wizard's Chess (already installed). He opened the game.
Two options: Online Match or Invite Friend.
He was about to invite Harry when he read the description for Online Match: Pairs you with players worldwide at your skill level for Wizard's Chess battles on the Magical Network.
Ron tapped it. With only five or six thousand phones active globally, it took about a minute to find an opponent.
A burst of light shot from the phone and formed a glowing 3D holographic chessboard in mid-air. Controls felt exactly like the real thing.
He crushed his first game. The phone chimed: Congratulations on your first win! Record: 1-0. Rank: Stubborn Bronze!
Ranks? Ron was hooked. He played straight through dinner, climbing all the way to Orderly Silver before his mom finally dragged him to the table.
Right now, across Britain, America, and the rest of Europe, every single Magic Phone owner was having the exact same experience—some lost in Moments, liking and commenting like crazy; others locked in furious Wizard's Chess battles, refusing to quit even after loss after loss because next game I'm definitely winning.
And the man responsible for all of it—Professor Sullivan—was sitting in his Hogwarts office, grinning like an idiot while he monitored the server dashboard. Everything was running smooth as silk.
He gave the small silver orb a satisfied pat, then placed it carefully on his display cabinet.
Who would ever guess that the Magical Network server connecting the entire wizarding world was sitting right here, inside a professor's office at Hogwarts Castle?