Click.
Filch finally worked up the courage and pressed the switch.
A beam of light shot from the tip of the wand.
Filch could feel his own magic flowing through it—real magic, cast with his own power. The first spell he'd ever performed in his life.
Sure, it was just the simplest Lumos, but his heart was on fire.
He looked at the wand, then at Sullivan, wanting to say something, but the words stuck in his throat.
In the end, Filch broke down crying like a little kid, tears streaming down his face, mumbling over and over:
"Thank you… thank you, Professor Sullivan… thank you…"
Sullivan patted him on the shoulder. "All right, this is just an experimental prototype. Nothing special. We're only just getting started. If you want to cast stronger, more advanced spells, you might have to spend every Galleon you've saved up. You still in?"
"I'm in! Absolutely! If you need it, I'll give you every bit of savings I've got. I want to cast more—stronger magic!" Filch looked up at Sullivan with shining eyes.
Sullivan didn't actually need Filch's money, but he wasn't about to play the saint. History had taught him plenty: give something for free, and greed grows wild.
So he said, "No need to go that far. For the first stage, about thirty Galleons. I'll custom-make you a magic pistol that can fire off a few basic jinxes."
"Done! I've got thirty Galleons! I'll go get them right now!" Filch jumped up, practically sprinting off to fetch the gold.
Sullivan waved him off. "No rush. Custom work takes time. Once it's ready, bring the Galleons and pick it up."
Then he glanced at the wand in Filch's hand. "Oh, and keep that wand. Consider it a gift."
Filch bowed again—this time so deeply his head almost touched the floor. Not because anyone forced him, but out of pure, heartfelt respect.
"Thank you for your generosity, Professor Sullivan. You'll be the greatest alchemist the world has ever seen. At Hogwarts, whatever you need—anything at all—just come to me."
After seeing Filch off, Sullivan started sketching out the design for a Squib-friendly magic pistol.
In theory, the prototype he'd made for himself could work for Filch.
But it wouldn't.
Sullivan could cast spells himself; his pistol was built to amplify power.
Squibs, on the other hand, had almost no magic to begin with. They needed massive storage capacity to squeeze out a few extra casts.
Plus, they'd have zero combat endurance. The spells had to be practical and efficient.
Sullivan worked late into the night. When Coal came back from the Forbidden Forest, he finally realized how late it was. He asked Jingjing the house-elf to whip up a midnight snack, then headed to bed.
The third week of term started quickly.
Monday morning, the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years gathered on the lawn outside the castle.
Today was their first flying lesson—their chance to finally feel what it was like to fly.
Most of the kids were nervous. They'd never been up in the air before. Some were even afraid of heights.
But a few were buzzing with excitement.
Like Draco Malfoy, who was bragging to his Slytherin buddies about the time he almost crashed into a Muggle airplane on his broom.
Over on the Gryffindor side, Hermione was just as eager. After yesterday's first taste of flying, she was way more confident today. She kept glancing around, looking for someone.
"Hey, Harry, doesn't Hermione seem… off to you?" Ron asked.
Harry glanced over. "Nah, she looks fine."
Ron shook his head. "Not like that. Normally before class she'd be showing off everything she's pre-read. But today she's not, and she keeps looking around like she's waiting for someone."
Harry shrugged. "Ron, the books don't cover flying. There's no textbook for this. Even the Quidditch books are just rules and history. Hermione and I both grew up with Muggles—we don't know much about flying either."
Ron nodded. That made sense. He leaned in and whispered, "Honestly, most wizard-born kids haven't even ridden a broom. Malfoy's definitely full of it."
Malfoy must've overheard. He shot Ron a venomous glare. "Weasley, you poor little beggar, don't compare your pathetic family to the Malfoy name. I got my first broom at five."
Ron fired back, "Oh yeah? Bet it was a kiddie broom. I was riding one of those at three."
The two were about to really get into it when Madam Hooch arrived.
She wore a sharp red wizarding robe, short hair, and goggles strapped to her head—she looked like a proper pilot.
"All right, children. Today is your first flying lesson. I'm your instructor—call me Madam Hooch or Professor Hooch, whichever you like."
"Everyone, line up in two rows. Make sure there's a broom to your right-hand side."
Once the students were in place, Madam Hooch continued, "Good. Now I'll show you how to—"
A gorgeous flying carpet swooped down from the sky, drawing gasps and cheers from the kids.
It was Sullivan.
Hermione's face lit up like a flower in bloom. She'd been worried he'd bailed on her, but there he was!
Sullivan hopped off the carpet and winked at Hermione before turning to Madam Hooch with a polite bow.
"Madam Hooch, sorry to interrupt your class. Today's the first-years' first flying lesson—it reminded me of my own first time."
"I was Muggle-born, knew absolutely nothing about brooms, and I was one of the worst in my class. Fell off a bunch of times before I got it."
"So I have a request: would you mind if I demonstrated for the kids? And if—if—I do a decent job, would you give me a little nod of approval?"
Sullivan had done his homework. Madam Hooch was one of the more emotional professors at Hogwarts. And back when he was a student, she wasn't even teaching yet.
He'd cooked up this whole backstory just to get that skill point.
Sure enough, Madam Hooch's eyes softened. "Of course, Professor Sullivan. Go ahead and show them."
The first-years already knew Sullivan—he popped into their classes all the time. They clapped when they heard he'd be demonstrating.
Only Malfoy looked sour. He muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, "Hmph. Muggle-born trash. Bet he falls flat on his face."
Crabbe and Goyle burst out laughing.
Madam Hooch and Sullivan both turned to them. "What's so funny?"
The two glanced at Malfoy, then at Sullivan, and mumbled, "N-nothing, Professor."
Malfoy wanted to sink into the ground. His father's warnings were still fresh in his mind. He'd only meant to snark a little, but these two idiots laughed way too loud.
Madam Hooch let it go. Sullivan didn't say anything either. He knew exactly what Malfoy had said.
Kids. Just needed a good smackdown to behave.
He stepped up to a broom and said, just like he'd told Hermione the other day:
"First, reach out with your mind and magic to connect with the broom. Then open your hand and say: Up!"
Sullivan was already at Magic LV7. The old school broom responded instantly to his power and flew straight into his hand.
He mounted it, kicked off, and soared into the air.
He didn't go too high or do any fancy tricks—just a smooth circle before landing cleanly.
Madam Hooch clapped loudly. "Excellent! Professor Sullivan's demonstration was textbook perfect. That's the level you all need to reach this year!"
Sullivan's system pinged:
Side quest: Flying Lesson – Completed.
But hearing Madam Hooch's words, he couldn't tell if she was genuinely praising him or low-key roasting him.
He'd flown that circle with total focus. Was that really just first-year level?
Whatever. He'd got the skill point. Now he could sit back and watch the show.
Just like in his memory, Neville's first flight went horribly wrong. He crashed and broke his arm.
Madam Hooch rushed him to Madam Pomfrey and left the class in Sullivan's hands.
Perfect.
Sullivan clapped his hands. "All right, everyone! You can try flying now—but no higher than ten meters!"
The kids cheered and scrambled onto their brooms.
Malfoy, feeling bold again, snatched Neville's Remembrall off the grass and shot into the air.
"Look at this—the big dumb oaf's Remembrall. Honestly, he doesn't even need it. He never remembers anything anyway. Haha!"
"Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry snapped.
"Why should I? Maybe I'll leave it on a tree branch… or up on the castle roof. Let Longbottom try to find it then." Malfoy zoomed off.
Harry glanced at Sullivan. Seeing no objection, he mounted his broom and chased after Malfoy.
Hermione hurried over to Sullivan. "Professor Sullivan, you have to stop them! They're going to get hurt!"
Sullivan just smiled calmly. "Relax, Hermione. This is Hogwarts—the safest place in the world. They won't get hurt that easily. A little competition can bring out the best in them."
Sure enough, a moment later Malfoy threw the Remembrall high.
Harry shot forward, shoulder-checked Malfoy, and dove after the ball.
Harry was fast. He dove thirty meters, snatched the Remembrall mid-air, and pulled off a perfect, stylish loop to stop cleanly.
Watching Harry's flawless moves, Sullivan felt a pang of envy. That was pure talent. Harry was probably at least LV5 in Flying already, while Sullivan—grown man—was still only LV3. Pathetic.
As for Malfoy… he actually had decent flying talent too. He could've recovered from Harry's bump easily.
But from a distance, Sullivan quietly flicked the spell ring on his finger.
Malfoy's broom suddenly bucked wildly, throwing him off.
He screamed in terror as he plummeted.
The other kids gasped.
Sullivan calmly drew his wand and cast Arresto Momentum just before Malfoy hit the ground—then flipped him upside down with Levicorpus.
Malfoy dangled in the air, flailing like a fish on a hook.
"Let me down! Let me down right now! You're a teacher—you can't do this to me! Potter knocked me off! You should punish him!"
"Trying to tell me how to do my job?" Sullivan raised an eyebrow. "Draco Malfoy, openly violating safety rules. Slytherin loses twenty points."
"That's not fair! You're just a filthy Muggle-born! You don't deserve to be a professor!"
Sullivan wasn't even mad. In fact, he looked delighted.
He raised his wand again and hit Malfoy with a Slugulus Eructo.
Malfoy immediately started vomiting huge, slimy slugs.
"Draco Malfoy, publicly insulting a professor. Slytherin loses fifty points."
Sullivan's voice rang out clearly.
At the same time, his system chimed:
Congratulations! Achievement unlocked: Enemy of Slytherin II
Through your clever schemes, Slytherin has lost a total of 100 points. Reward: 1 universal skill point.