At exactly 6:30 p.m., Filch knocked on Sullivan's door. He was dressed impeccably as always, and his attitude toward Sullivan was nothing short of reverent.
Truth be told, Filch had arrived outside the office at six sharp. He was so eager to get his hands on that magical handgun that he could barely stand it, but he didn't dare show the slightest disrespect. So he just paced back and forth in the hallway.
"Professor Sullivan, here's the agreed-upon Galleons. And, uh…" Filch's words trailed off because Sullivan had already pulled out the handgun and was holding it out to him.
Filch stared at the revolver, completely dumbfounded.
This custom revolver was different from a regular one—it only had three chambers, and the grip was noticeably larger, covered in intricate, mesmerizing patterns.
Of course, Filch had never seen a real Muggle handgun, so he had no basis for comparison. Seeing him frozen like that, Sullivan just shoved the gun into his hand, took the bag of money, and tossed it onto the desk.
"Go ahead and try it. I made a few tweaks—this one can hold enough magic for twelve spell shots when fully charged."
"I limited the spell types to three practical combat ones: Expelliarmus, Incarcerous, and Petrificus Totalus. It works pretty much like that wand I gave you."
"Y-yes… thank you, Professor Sullivan!" Filch immediately started feeding his magic into the gun.
He noticed a gauge on the grip with twelve marks. After about twenty minutes, the first mark filled up.
Sullivan pointed at a dummy in the room. "Good. Test the power on that. You can figure out the rest on your own time."
Filch nodded. Under Sullivan's guidance, he rotated the cylinder to the binding spell, raised the gun with both slightly shaking hands, and pulled the trigger.
No bang, no recoil—just a red beam shooting from the barrel. Mid-flight, the light turned into a rope that wrapped the dummy tight.
Sullivan tugged on the ropes. The strength was roughly equivalent to a level-2 spell—pretty impressive progress from an alchemical standpoint.
"Looks solid. Head home and play around with it. I've got stuff to do." Sullivan made a shooing motion.
Filch bowed deeply again, wrapped the gun carefully in a fancy handkerchief, and left.
Sullivan wasn't just trying to get rid of him—he really did have plans. He headed straight to Hagrid's hut. It was almost eight by the time he arrived.
"Any word from the centaurs, Hagrid?"
Hagrid shook his head. "No message, but centaurs always keep their word. If we go to the spot from last week, they'll show."
So Hagrid, Sullivan, and Mei Qiu headed back into the Forbidden Forest. The night was full of strange sounds, as always.
"If they stand us up, it wouldn't be too much if I marched in there and demanded it, right?" Sullivan joked.
"Not too much, no," Hagrid said honestly, "but I wouldn't recommend it unless you're on Dumbledore's level."
Sullivan shrugged. He might not be able to wipe out a centaur herd, but with his alchemical gear and Mei Qiu's help, he was confident he could snatch a moonstone and teach them a lesson.
Luckily, they didn't have to wait long. The centaurs appeared—the same ones as before, led by Firenze.
He stepped forward. "Professor Sullivan, thank you again for recovering our sacred relic. The elder has agreed to trade a moonstone for it. And the friendship of the centaurs remains yours!"
Firenze handed over a wooden box. Inside was a fist-sized, milky-white stone that glowed softly like moonlight.
There was also a leather bracelet—clearly a bonus gift. Sullivan pocketed the moonstone and slipped the bracelet onto his wrist.
The centaurs looked pleased. Firenze said, "I'm glad you like it. This is our token. With it, you may enter our herd's territory if you ever need us."
So it wasn't just a gift—it was a pass. Sullivan nodded. "Thank you. Really."
With what he came for in hand, Sullivan couldn't wait to leave. One thought consumed him: get back to the office, start researching the moonstone, and finally build that network server.
Time ticked by. A month later, Sullivan finally saw his Transfiguration skill climb from level 4 to level 5.
It didn't sound like much, but only he knew how hard it had been. For over a month, he'd spent at least four hours a day practicing Transfiguration.
Plenty of people could put in four hours a day, but most would never break through in a lifetime.
What really made the difference was his level-7 magical power and level-7 Charms knowledge—one gave him the raw foundation, the other the technical finesse.
If his system vanished tomorrow, he could probably push Transfiguration to level 7 or even 8 with ten or twenty years of study.
Raw magical reserves and control set a wizard's ceiling.
Of course, Sullivan wasn't waiting decades. He still had two universal skill points. After a brief hesitation, he dumped one straight into Transfiguration, bumping it to level 6.
That way, once he earned McGonagall's approval, he could grab the specialty point and hit level 7.
The last week of October, Sullivan got up early and slipped into McGonagall's class with the Gryffindor first-years. Hermione was chattering beside him like an excited little bird.
"Professor Sullivan, you haven't sat in on anyone else's classes in ages. Why Transfiguration all of a sudden?"
"You know I've been deep into Transfiguration lately," he said. "I stayed away before because I hadn't made real progress. Today I'm here to show Professor McGonagall what I've learned."
Draco Malfoy happened to overhear as he passed by. It had been about a month since anyone put him in his place, so his courage was back. He muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, "Heard that? At the start of term, Professor McGonagall said some people hadn't improved in over a decade. Wonder why he's brave enough to show his face in her class."
The three snickered. Sullivan shot them a glance, and Malfoy quickly pretended nothing had happened and scurried inside.
The students were already seated quietly. On the desk sat a tabby cat, staring sternly down at them.
What exquisite Animagus work. Back when his Transfiguration was level 4, Sullivan couldn't appreciate the subtlety at all.
Now at level 6… okay, fine, he still couldn't fully grasp it.
McGonagall noticed him, leaped forward, transformed mid-air, and landed in front of him.
"Professor Sullivan, is something the matter?"
He waved it off. "Nothing's wrong. I've made some breakthroughs in Transfiguration lately and wanted to sit in again."
Her expression softened. "Oh, my dear, I should apologize for what I said last time. Mrs. Pince told me you've been in the library studying Transfiguration every single day this past month. Feel free to ask me anything after class."
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall!" He gave a small bow and took a seat in the back row.
Two months into term, most Gryffindors had mastered turning matches into needles—the simplest trick—except Neville and Seamus.
Neville could only manage half the transformation, while Seamus tended to make the match explode. Sullivan immediately took note of the kid. From what he remembered, pretty much every spell Seamus cast ended in an explosion.
That probably meant the boy's magical affinity leaned heavily toward explosive force. Might be worth taking him on as a disciple—turn him into the Harry Potter world's version of Deidara.
Today's lesson was larger-scale transfiguration: turning a glass goblet into an axe.
There were two main challenges. First, the goblet was bigger, requiring more magic and finer control.
Second, an axe was far more complex than a needle—the wooden handle and metal head meant perfectly splitting the material into two distinct substances.
It was the opposite of match-to-needle (two materials into one). This was one material into two—a whole new level of difficulty.
McGonagall explained it meticulously, breaking down every detail. Even Sullivan picked up useful insights.
After the long theory portion came practice. Every student failed. Even Hermione only managed a wooden axe handle—no metal at all.
Sullivan walked over to her. "Don't rush it, Hermione. Instead of trying to nail it in one go, start by turning it into a solid wooden axe shape—like this."
He flicked his wand. The wooden handle on her desk became a single block of wood carved into an axe.
"Then separate the head from the handle—like this."
Another flick, and the wooden axe now had distinct parts.
"Finally, turn the head to metal. There—done!"
One last flick, and a perfect axe sat on her desk.
Sullivan waved his wand again; the axe reverted to a goblet. "Now we combine the three steps into one: Transfiguration."
He cast slowly this time, letting the goblet go through each visible stage before becoming a perfect axe.
McGonagall watched the entire demonstration. To the kids, it just looked like he'd broken a hard spell into three easier steps—nothing special.
But McGonagall saw the truth. The approach alone was brilliant—it dramatically lowered the learning curve for beginners.
More importantly, his control and precision were flawless. Compared to the guy who'd turned a match into a needle at the start of term, this was a completely different wizard.
Especially that slow-motion final cast—the level of magical understanding and control it required went far beyond what it appeared.
She knew this was the fruit of two solid months of hard work. She started clapping.
"Excellent—truly excellent! Professor Sullivan's demonstration and method are perfect. In your practice going forward, try following his steps. It will help you master the technique much faster."
The instant McGonagall spoke those words of praise, the system chimed. Unlike previous side quests, this one felt half-earned through real sweat and effort. A genuine sense of accomplishment washed over him.
After class, Sullivan chatted with McGonagall and asked a few questions about Animagus transformation.
She answered everything patiently, but before he left, she gave him a serious warning:
"Su, your Transfiguration has improved tremendously these past two months, but you're still nowhere near ready for Animagus transformation."
"It's an extremely dangerous and potentially fatal magic. History is full of monstrous failures."
"Promise me—if you ever decide to pursue it, please get an evaluation from me or Professor Dumbledore before the final step. All right?"
You couldn't ask for a kinder, more genuine, or more perfect professor. She was everything anyone could want in a teacher.
Sullivan nodded. "Don't worry, Professor. I won't attempt it until I'm absolutely sure. I value my life more than you think."
Back in his office, he flopped onto the bed and immediately used the specialty point to push Transfiguration to level 7.
Just like before, a flood of advanced theory and detail poured into his mind.
Fifteen minutes later he sat up. From his past upgrades in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, he knew level 7 was a watershed. Reaching it gave you a whole new perspective on the subject.
Before level 7, watching McGonagall was like a frog in a well looking at the moon—it seemed high, but not unreachable with effort.
Now at level 7, looking back at her was like an ant gazing at the sky. The gap felt almost terrifying.
With his current knowledge, he figured he could start researching Animagus transformation, but his success rate would be under 30%. To get it above 70%, he'd probably need level 8.
And the effortless, fluid way McGonagall transformed? That wasn't level 9—that was beyond. No wonder she was considered the second-best Transfiguration expert in the Harry Potter world. The woman had serious skill.
Thinking back to the first day of term—turning that match into a needle and waiting expectantly for praise—Sullivan cringed hard.
Some things you only realize are embarrassingly amateur once you actually know enough to see them for what they were.