Sullivan looked at Gemma Farley with approval in his eyes. A kid who knew how to be grateful would never have bad character. So he asked, "Do you think the magical handgun could solve the problem of Squibs not being able to cast spells?"
Gemma shook her head. "I'm not sure. After all, Squibs have really weak magic—most don't even reach first-year wizard level."
"Like you said in class, spells fired from a magical handgun are weaker than when a wizard casts them directly. By that logic, Squibs probably couldn't use one either."
"Oh? Then why are you still hopeful about me?" Sullivan pressed.
Gemma thought for a moment. "It's a direction worth exploring. Your handgun already converts magic directly into spells."
"So if... I mean, if we could store up magic bit by bit, pooling it together—wouldn't that let Squibs cast successfully?"
Sullivan's eyes lit up. He loved her idea—because that's exactly what he'd done.
Before the system, his magic was only LV5: too high to be weak, too low to be strong. Spells were underwhelming, and through a handgun? Even worse.
So he'd added a magic storage and compression device to the grip.
You could feed it magic steadily, compressing and storing it. Then, when needed, dump it all out at once, combining with your own magic for the handgun.
He called it a Magic Amplifier. It was partially used in magical phones too, but the tech wasn't mature yet—max six shots per charge.
The boost was about one level stronger than his old LV5 spells. But with limited storage, the higher your base magic, the less useful it became.
Plus, it was complex and expensive—none of the handguns sold to the American Magical Congress had it. Only his personal one did.
Of course, he didn't spill all that to Gemma. Instead, he pulled out a copy of Beginner's Guide to Advanced Alchemy.
"Take this and study it. At the end of term, I'll test you. Pass, and I'll take you as my apprentice. Then we can research handgun improvements together."
"I won't let you down, Professor!" Gemma was way more mature than the Weasley twins. She got his intent right away, cradling the book seriously.
After she left, Sullivan headed out of the castle to Hagrid's hut. He couldn't remember exactly when Quirrell pried the info from Hagrid with that dragon egg.
But he liked dropping by anyway—to see Coal Ball and scrounge some alchemy materials.
Since that day, whenever Sullivan left his office, Coal Ball bolted to Hagrid's. She'd stay late, and he'd only see her mornings.
Hagrid clearly adored her, spoiling her with food. In just over a week, she'd plumped up noticeably.
"Hagrid, you gotta cut back on feeding Coal Ball. Too fat, and it'll slow her down. For a Matagot, slower speed is deadly!" Sullivan stroked her sleek, shiny black fur, worried.
Coal Ball turned, growling low: I'm not fat, jerk. With my talent, a couple laps and I'm back in shape.
Hagrid couldn't hear her through their bond, so he just nodded. "Alright, Sullivan . I'll portion it down."
Ignoring her, Sullivan steered the chat: "Hagrid, any magical ores in the Forbidden Forest? My alchemy experiments are stuck—I need stones with psychic energy."
"Psychic energy stones? Not sure, but I can ask the centaurs. They know the forest better than me."
"Centaurs? Why not take me to meet them? I could talk to them myself." Sullivan's eyes sparkled with excitement.
This wasn't random. He'd had ideas for magical phone servers and needed psychic stones for tests.
This week, besides Transfiguration, he'd researched. In the Restricted Section's Advanced Dark Magical Materials, he found one: Moonstone.
Formed when centaur shamans died, their bones tempered by magic. Usually tribal holy relics.
Hagrid balked. "Sullivan , sorry—the centaurs are friends too. Can't just bring you into their territory. Could get you hurt."
"No worries, Hagrid. Just introduce me. I'll handle the talk."
"You seem sure they've got what you want?" Hagrid eyed him suspiciously.
Sullivan hadn't expected dumb-old Hagrid to catch on so quick. No point hiding it. "Ever heard of Moonstone? From what I know, every centaur tribe has some. That's probably what I need."
Hagrid hadn't heard of it, but he was thrilled they might help. Didn't even mind the steering.
"Alright, I'll take ya. But if they say no, we leave—no fighting."
"Deal!" Sullivan agreed fast. Not bluffing—Moonstone was key, but replaceable. Just more time.
Lanterns in hand, Coal Ball tagging along, they trekked deep into the forest. Hagrid was in his element, pointing out trees and creatures.
Suddenly—whoosh—an arrow thudded into the ground a meter ahead.
Sullivan whipped out his wand; Hagrid blocked him, raising the lantern high. "Hey! It's me, Hagrid! No harm—we come in peace!"
No reply, just chaotic hoofbeats like a cavalry squad.
Soon, six centaurs emerged. Sullivan's first real look—magical creatures, for sure.
Five males, one female. Horse bodies below, muscular human torsos above. Males bare-chested with simple leather belts.
The female wore a beast-hide tube top—wild, massive, and toned under the belts.
Belts held pouches with short spears, bows, arrows.
Way different from movie centaurs—not ugly at all, actually beautiful.
The lead pair: pure white fur, pale skin, golden hair. Male handsome and dashing; female... front-loaded, and...
Eyes wandering, Sullivan glanced at her horse half. Pre-traversal, there was that raunchy comedy about "mule slapping"...
What the hell am I thinking? He jabbed his wand to his temple, yanked out a yellow memory strand, and ditched it like trash.
The buffest blond male stepped forward, face stern. "Hagrid, you broke our agreement—bringing an outsider into our territory. Declaring war?"
"Firenze, my friend—relax. This is Sullivan, Hogwarts professor. No malice. He wants to talk."
Firenze eyed Sullivan, then Coal Ball poised for fight. "Your magical companion is powerful. Earning her trust means you respect nature. Speak—what do you want?"
Sullivan didn't rush. Slowly reached into his Undetectable Extension pouch at his waist, pulled out a battered crown.
He held it high, walking slowly toward them—about twenty meters—set it down, and backed to Hagrid.
"What's that?" Hagrid whispered.
"Chiron's Crown."
"Who's Chiron?"
"You know the Centaurus constellation?"
"Of course!"
"In ancient Greek myth, Chiron was the wisest centaur. Killed, he became the constellation."
"So he's like the centaurs' Merlin?" Hagrid grinned, getting it.
Sullivan gave up slotting. "Sure, if you want."
As they talked, Firenze approached, picked it up, and quickly sensed something off. "Professor Sullivan... where did you get this crown?"
"No secrets: Across the ocean, in America. Bought it at a Muggle auction."
"Why was it in... America?"
Sullivan shrugged. "Sorry, can't say—I don't know. Some Muggle dug it from a tomb, apparently."
Firenze pondered, bowed. "Thank you for returning it to us. You have the eternal friendship of our tribe."
Sullivan grinned wide. "Friendship's nice, but actually—I want to trade it."
Firenze blinked—humans rejecting centaur friendship? Frowning: "What do you want?"
"Simple: One Moonstone."
Moonstone didn't shock him—the crown's value to centaurs far outweighed it.
But the others, not knowing what it was, exploded at trading a holy relic. Rearing up, hooves pawing, arrows thudding at Sullivan's feet.
"Stop! All of you!" Firenze whirled, halting them.
Turning back: "Professor Sullivan, I can't decide this. May I take it to the tribe? We need to verify it's real—and discuss the Moonstone."
"Of course. Centaurs' honor is legendary." Sullivan buttered them up.
Legend said Chiron's Crown aided stargazing and divination—a centaur relic. To Sullivan? Just a collectible.
He'd bought it for the runes and alchemy, but it wasn't wizard-style—dead end.
If they kept it? Minimal loss. Plus, excuse to raid their camp later.
Firenze, clueless to his thoughts, bowed again. "Your generosity is appreciated. Next Friday, same time, here—to settle it?"
"As you wish." Sullivan returned a wizard's bow.
As they left, Firenze turned back: "Lately, darkness stirs in Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest. The school faces crisis—be careful."
On the way back, Coal Ball wandered off. Just Sullivan and Hagrid.
Bored, Hagrid asked, "What'd Firenze mean? With Dumbledore, Hogwarts is the safest place ever—no crisis!"
Sullivan nearly laughed. In his old Harry Potter fan circles, there was that timeless joke: Hogwarts, safest place on earth.
Hagrid missed the punchline, so Sullivan said, "Saw a newspaper on your table—Gringotts break-in. Two weeks old, right?"
"Uh, yeah... maybe!" Hagrid tensed, stammering.
"Hagrid, you don't follow news. Keeping that paper? Must mean something."
"No! I didn't—you're talking nonsense!" Denial triple.
Sullivan chuckled. "Really? I know that morning—the break-in day—you and Harry went to Gringotts. You retrieved something."
"If I'm right, Dumbledore sent you to bring it to Hogwarts. Link that to Firenze's warning..."
"Any chance the Gringotts thief wanted what you took—and now he's planning to sneak into Hogwarts for it again?"