Hogwarts quickly settled into its second week, and Sullivan still hadn't given up on those side quests. Bright and early, he slipped into another first-year classroom.
This week, though, he skipped Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff—McGonagall's Transfiguration classes. After the feedback she'd given him last week, he decided on a tactical retreat and temporarily shelved the idea of earning that Transfiguration skill point.
Today he was sitting in on Professor Flitwick's Charms class, where the students were Slytherins and Gryffindors.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione—the famous trio—were already pretty familiar with Sullivan. The moment they spotted him, they started grinning and making faces, clearly welcoming him.
Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle—the other infamous trio—had a completely different reaction. Malfoy's eyes were full of venom. Thanks to Sullivan, he'd become the laughingstock of the first-years.
Of course, Malfoy had passed Sullivan's words along to his father, only to get a short reply: "Don't provoke him."
That had planted a seed of caution in young Malfoy, so for now he just stole sneaky glances at Sullivan.
Sullivan couldn't care less what Malfoy thought. He was busy giving a polite nod to Professor Flitwick up on the podium.
Flitwick, on the other hand, looked a little pained when he saw Sullivan. He remembered this kid from his own school days—decent Charms talent, nothing special. And after all these years? Still not much improvement.
No improvement would've been fine—if he'd just kept it quiet and practiced in private. But no, he had to show up in class with those clumsy incantations and wand movements. Flitwick could barely watch.
The weirdest part? After class last week, Sullivan had actually asked for feedback. They were colleagues now—what was Flitwick supposed to say?
He'd figured he'd fudged his way through it last week and Sullivan would be too embarrassed to come back. But nope—this guy had no shame.
"Have you heard?" Crabbe whispered nearby. "Last week Professor Sullivan did pretty badly in Professor McGonagall's, Professor Flitwick's, and Professor Snape's classes. None of them want him auditing anymore."
"That's nonsense," Hermione shot back. She had a real soft spot for the professor who'd shown her around Diagon Alley. "Professor Sullivan is a fully qualified adult wizard. Of course his magic is excellent. And last week in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he was amazing—ask any Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff."
Malfoy whipped around and glared at her. "Oh really? Maybe you should take extra lessons from your precious Professor Sullivan and learn how wizards of your… lowly background… ought to survive."
Hermione opened her mouth to fire back, but Flitwick tapped the desk. "Today we're continuing with the Levitation Charm. Last class we covered the key points of pronunciation and wand movement."
"I trust you all practiced at home. Today we'll discuss why those elements affect how a spell works…"
Flitwick spent about twenty minutes carefully explaining the way incantations and gestures guide magical flow for the Levitation Charm.
Some students got the gist—Hermione, for example—while others looked completely lost, like Goyle and Crabbe.
If anyone in the room fully understood everything Flitwick said, it was Sullivan.
A week ago, he'd have only grasped half of it. But after pushing Charms to Level 7 and absorbing all that knowledge, everything Flitwick was teaching was already in his head.
So when Flitwick started checking everyone's progress, Sullivan cast a flawless Levitation Charm and earned glowing praise.
"Oh my goodness, Sullivan—that was perfect!" Flitwick exclaimed, stunned. "I can hardly believe it. In just one week, your Charms casting has improved this much!"
But Sullivan wasn't done showing off. He set the feather down, stood up, and with a perfect wand flick—without saying a word—levitated the stool.
"Silent casting!" Flitwick gasped. "Sullivan, you're already at that level? I must apologize. Last week I was secretly thinking you hadn't improved at all in Charms over the years."
"I was terribly wrong—you must have been holding back last week to avoid intimidating the children."
Truth was, Sullivan could've gone further. For a basic spell like Wingardium Leviosa, he could now do it wandlessly and silently.
But there was no need—the system had just dinged: side quest complete. One Charms-specific skill point earned.
It clicked for him then. The professors weren't unwilling to praise him; they just held him to a different standard.
It's like eating out. At a cheap street stall, fresh ingredients and decent flavor earn five stars. But at a Michelin-star restaurant, expectations are sky-high—one tiny flaw and people complain.
To the professors, Sullivan was the Michelin restaurant. They judged him as a peer, so Level 3 or 4 just didn't cut it.
On the bright side, after last week's awful performances, any improvement this week would blow them away.
He now had one general skill point and one Charms-specific point. He could push Charms to Level 8, or save the general point and use it elsewhere to knock out another side quest.
After thinking it through, Sullivan laid out his long-term plan. Magical power was the foundation—he needed to get that to Level 12. Alchemy was his signature skill; he had to push it past Level 10.
Beyond that, combat ability was crucial. Voldemort's Charms and Dark Arts were probably Level 10+, and Dumbledore's Charms and Transfiguration definitely were too.
So besides Alchemy, his priority skills were Charms, Dark Arts & Defense, and Transfiguration.
The first two were already at Level 7—more than enough to handle most Death Eaters. With the achievement system, he figured he could earn another six general points this term.
After that, new sources of points would dry up unless he found something else. Better to conserve.
So he decided to spend some time actually studying and try pushing Transfiguration to Level 5 on his own. That way he'd save a general point and probably still earn a Transfiguration-specific one from McGonagall. Win-win.
After class, Sullivan chatted with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The trio were in awe of his spellwork and begged for tips if he ever had time.
As Malfoy passed by—still sore from last time—he muttered loudly, "Hmph. A professor reaching that level—nothing to brag about."
Flitwick was still around, so Sullivan let it slide, but he made a mental note. Opportunity would come to hit that kid hard.
For the rest of the morning, instead of auditing classes, Sullivan headed to the library and checked out a few basic Transfiguration theory books.
The librarian, Madam Pince, was a tall, thin woman in black robes and a pointed wizard's hat stuffed with feathers. Time had left its marks, but you could tell she'd been stunning in her youth.
Seeing the books he picked, she smiled. "Professor Sullivan, these are the most basic Transfiguration texts. If you'd like more advanced ones, I can recommend some."
"Thank you, but these are exactly what I need right now," Sullivan said. "Professor McGonagall told me my Transfiguration hasn't improved at all over the years."
"I think I skipped building a solid foundation back in school. Now that I'm back at Hogwarts, I want to catch up on what I missed."
Madam Pince looked genuinely surprised. "My goodness, Professor Sullivan, you're so humble and studious. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would be proud to have a former student like you."
Sullivan hadn't said that casually—he knew Pince and McGonagall were close friends. There was a good chance his words would get back to her.
When McGonagall heard he'd taken her criticism to heart, started from the basics, and made real progress? His odds of completing that quest just went way up.
Pleased with his own cleverness, Sullivan settled into a quiet corner and got to work.
He quickly realized his old foundation really had been terrible. Tons of little details he'd completely overlooked. No wonder McGonagall had been so harsh.
He lost himself in study until his magical phone buzzed around three in the afternoon—time for his own class.
Last week he'd had everyone copy A Complete Guide to Muggle Weapons. Today's lesson was all about weapons.
"I'm sure you've all gotten familiar with Muggle weapons by now," he began. "So—who wants to tell me what you think is the most magical Muggle weapon?"
Fred shot his hand up first. "Professor Sullivan, I think it's the atomic bomb. Even Dumbledore couldn't destroy a whole city with one spell. It's unbelievable!"
Sullivan called on a few others—Cedric, George, and more. They all focused on big, destructive stuff.
Finally he pointed at Tracey Davis. "I think the most magical Muggle weapon is firearms—especially revolvers," she said.
"In a surprise attack, if one hits a wizard in the head, it could kill any wizard, no matter how powerful."
"They're relatively simple to make. After a little research, I could replicate one with Transfiguration. That means any Muggle could have one."
"If—hypothetically—Muggles ever went to war with wizards, I bet most wizard deaths would come from guns."
Sullivan snapped his fingers. "Excellent. Five points to Ravenclaw."
Ever since unlocking achievements tied to awarding and deducting points, he'd been generous—grabbing every chance to add or subtract as many as possible.
He motioned for Tracey to sit. "Tracey's spot-on. Guns are the basic Muggle weapon, combining portability, accessibility, and ease of use."
"Adult wizards can Apparate away from large-scale Muggle weapons. But imagine you're out shopping or enjoying a meal, and a Muggle suddenly shoots you in the back. How many of you are confident you'd survive?"
"So I agree with Tracey—for wizards, firearms are the most magical weapon Muggles ever invented."
Some students clearly weren't convinced, but Sullivan didn't give them time to argue. Today he wanted to flex his alchemy skills a bit.
"We wizards should always learn from the best," he continued. "So—can wizards master firearms?"
After a pause, Cedric raised his hand. "Professor, guns are powerful, but limited. Against a wizard, you'd only get one shot—and it has to hit the head. Otherwise we can heal physical damage fast."
"Once the wizard recovers, there are a hundred ways to take down the Muggle."
Sullivan smiled. "What if the one holding the gun is a wizard? I shoot you first—headshot if I'm lucky. Even if I miss, you're injured and distracted. While you're healing, I've got the upper hand, right?"
Cedric froze. He hadn't thought of it that way—it felt dishonorable, beneath a wizard.
Sullivan pressed on. "Or let's go further. What if we replaced regular bullets with magical ones?"
Fred and George exchanged a look, eyes gleaming. Fred stood up. "I get it, Professor. Magical bullets in a gun? That weapon could totally fit into wizard combat—and might even decide battles."
Sullivan shot him a mock glare. "Fred, no hand raised? Who said you could just stand up? Five points from Gryffindor."
Then he grinned. "But great thinking—so five points back to Gryffindor."
"Huh?" Fred blinked, totally confused. What was the point of that?
He had no idea how much it meant to Sullivan: house points stayed the same, but his "Enemy of Gryffindor" achievement (Phase Two) ticked forward. Perfect.s