"Shut it!" Sullivan snapped, finally losing his patience as Rita Skeeter kept spouting more and more outrageous nonsense right in front of him.
But that only fired her up more. "Oh my, it seems this professor isn't as ordinary as we thought. Threatening a journalist personally after she uncovers his little secrets?"
Sullivan let out a humorless laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Personal threat, huh? Fine—let me show you what a real personal threat looks like."
He strode forward quickly. Tonks tried to grab him but missed. Rita backed up, her face defiant even as she yelled, "Bozo! Get the shots—every single one! If I end up dead, send this guy straight to Azkaban!"
Bozo's camera shutter clicked frantically, the flash popping like crazy. Sullivan didn't even glance at him—he just kept advancing, step by step, as Rita retreated.
She hit the wall with nowhere left to go. Panic flashed across her face as she fumbled for her wand, ready to hit him with a minor hex.
Sullivan was already prepared. He flicked his wand and sent a low-powered Expelliarmus, knocking her wand flying and pinning her against the wall.
Then he leaned in close, grabbing a fistful of her hair and whispering right in her ear.
In all her years as a reporter, Rita had never met someone this bold. She tried to stay calm and bluffed loudly, "Y-you... what do you think you're doing? Touch me and the Aurors really will haul you off to Azkaban!"
Sullivan chuckled dismissively, his voice low. "Azkaban? I wonder... does an unregistered Animagus need a trip to Azkaban?"
Rita froze mid-struggle, staring at him in disbelief. Is he bluffing?
Sullivan read her like an open book. "A beetle. Nice form. I bet you've snuck into plenty of pure-blood mansions that way and dug up all sorts of secrets. If those got out... think you'd have a shot at Azkaban yourself?"
"I... w-what do you want?" Rita deflated completely.
Sullivan released her. "Drop the lies. Ask what I tell you to ask. This is Timo—thirty years ago..."
He gave her the rough outline of Timo's story, then had her start the actual interview with the elf. This time, she was a lot more cooperative—her questions were professional and on-point.
The story itself had real punch. Thirty years back, Anthony's Wand Shop had been a serious rival to Ollivanders—plenty of wizards still used their wands. The wand explosions and backlash incidents had been huge news, with loads of victims. Once this hit the papers, those folks would be all over it.
While watching the interview, Tonks leaned in and whispered to Sullivan, "What'd you say to her? Her attitude did a complete 180."
"Trade secret," Sullivan said with a mysterious grin.
"Hmph! Fine, keep it to yourself!" Tonks pouted, crossing her arms like a sulky kid. It was adorable.
"You've still got your Auror badge," Sullivan added. "I'm just trying not to put you in a tough spot."
Tonks's eyes widened. "So she's got a rap sheet?"
"Nothing major—just a bit of snooping. Comes with the job, right?"
Tonks knew he was holding back, but she let it go. They both stood by and watched the whole interview.
Timo did pretty well. Nervous at first, but he got emotional as he went on—really pouring his heart out. When he got to Sullivan's part, tears were streaming down his face, thanking him like there was no tomorrow.
When the interview wrapped and Rita was about to leave, Sullivan called her back and gave her a full demo of the magical phone's features.
This had been part of the plan all along. Half the article would cover Timo's story.
The other half? Rita Skeeter "stumbling upon" this miraculous new gadget, complete with a glowing introduction to the magical phone and the Feathered Wings experience store.
That way, before the phones even hit the shelves, every wizard in Britain would know the brand.
Sullivan wasn't stingy—he handed Rita her own magical phone. "You're a smart woman. You can see the potential here, right?"
Rita was much more docile now. "Of course, Professor Su. This will absolutely change everything."
Sullivan wasn't after flattery. "Once enough wizards in Britain have these, I'm rolling out a new feature."
Honestly, Rita wasn't that interested in new features—she was already obsessed with the camera and video recording. With this, she could snap photos anytime, anywhere.
She kept up the polite act, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. Sullivan could tell, so he dropped the hook casually:
"It'll be a whole new kind of newspaper. Like the Floo Message you just used—just tap the icon, and all the latest news appears. When every wizard has a phone... do you think they'll still buy the Daily Prophet, or read my version instead?"
Rita snapped back to attention, picturing it. If wizards could get news with one tap, who'd bother with the Prophet?
Sullivan patted her shoulder. "Work hard. When it's ready, I'll invite you to run the whole thing."
He knew threats alone wouldn't buy loyalty—she'd stab him in the back the second she could. But give her a spot on his team, something she actually wanted? That was different.
Sure enough, Rita straightened up, her tone shifting. "Mr. Su, rest assured—this article will be spectacular."
Sullivan waved her off. With both carrot and stick, he wasn't worried about her effort.
Once the Prophet business was handled, there were workers to hire. Lupin had already picked them out—Sullivan just needed to finalize the contracts.
The terms were straightforward: no sabotaging equipment, no stealing, no leaking trade secrets—basic stuff to keep knockoffs off the market for a while.
Twenty wizards total. Five days a week, eight hours a day, for 15 Galleons pay.
Came out to about 65 Galleons a month—a bit less than Ministry jobs, but better than most wizards earned.
The magic tech in the phones was advanced, but Britain had plenty of skilled alchemists. Once the product launched and did well, copycats would pop up within a year, guaranteed.
Sullivan was ready for that. First: build brand loyalty fast during this window—make everyone recognize the Feathered Wings logo.
The rest would come down to the magical server he was developing. Right now, the phones were just communicators. With the server? That's when they'd shine.
At the signing, Tonks spotted Lupin. They didn't know each other, just a quick hello. To Lupin, Tonks was probably the "boss's lady."
After contracts, Sullivan walked the workers through production. Turns out, because everyone's magic reserves varied, part production times weren't consistent.
Real output was nowhere near the theoretical 42 units a day.
By mid-afternoon, Sullivan packed up the few new phones they'd made and headed back to Hogwarts with Tonks. He had classes to teach.
"Come to class with me today," he told her.
"Me? That feels kinda weird." Tonks wasn't thrilled—she hadn't been in a classroom since graduating and didn't miss it.
This time Sullivan put his foot down. "You're coming. Not just today—you're covering for me tomorrow too."
Tonks groaned. "No way! I'm not a Hogwarts professor. How can I just teach? And what are you doing tomorrow?"
"Relax—I've cleared it with Dumbledore. Just one day. Teach what I cover today."
"I'll record the whole thing on your new phone. I've got lesson plans too. Worst case, read straight from the book—like Professor Binns."
"As for me... heading to America. Gotta pitch our new product. The Magical Congress has always been a big client."
Tonks made a face like she'd bitten into a lemon. "Back in school, we used to trash-talk Binns behind his back. If I teach like him, those kids will be ripping me apart too!"
Sullivan laughed, ruffling her hair. "Now you know teaching isn't easy, huh? Just one day—a little life experience!"
Today's lesson was on British Muggle daily life and how it differed from wizards'. Not too tough—he'd picked it with Tonks in mind.
After class, Sullivan messaged Yuna in America: "Heading back to New York tonight—around 23:00 my time, which is 18:00 yours. Perfect for dinner."
She replied almost instantly: "For real? How long are you staying? Where?"
"Just one day—called in sick. Crashing at yours. Set up a meeting with old man Stewart for tomorrow morning?"
"What's it about? Pushing the magical phones?"
The girl's intuition was sharp—she nailed it. "Yep. Mass production's ready. Talking orders this trip."
"Awesome! Stewart's been eyeing mine forever. I'll go talk to him now—he'll say yes on the spot."
Sullivan wrapped up with Yuna, left Hogwarts, pulled out his Kawasaki ZXR250, set the destination, and hopped into the storage compartment.
In America, it was just past 1 p.m. Yuna had finished lunch and rushed straight to Stewart's office.
Her Auror headquarters fell under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which Stewart oversaw, so she got there fast.
"Come in!" Stewart called at her knock.
Yuna saluted. "It's me, sir. Got something to report—Sullivan wants to meet you tomorrow at 10 a.m."
"Ah, Yuna—no need to be so formal. Sit. Sullivan's coming back?"
"Tonight, from what he said."
"Did he mention what it's about?"
Yuna pulled out her magical phone and waved it in front of him. "Mass production on the magical phones. Coming to talk orders."
"It's really in production? Excellent! Tell him it's on—10 a.m. tomorrow. And have him bring plenty of samples."
Just like she'd predicted, Stewart jumped at it.
He'd used the phone once before—urgent matter, needed Sullivan fast, owl post too slow. Borrowed Yuna's. Instant, efficient, real-time communication hooked him right away.
He hadn't asked Sullivan for one then—pointless if he was the only one with it. He'd been waiting for mass production. Didn't expect it this soon.
MACUSA headquarters was in the Woolworth Building, right in downtown New York. From the outside, it looked like any other Muggle office tower.
Yuna was in a great mood. She'd booked a restaurant and even touched up her makeup before clocking out. When Sullivan was around before, she'd felt pretty independent.
But these past four months apart—only able to talk through the phone—had made things clear. She missed seeing him, missed hanging out, missed having him around.
She packed up, headed downstairs, ready to cab to the restaurant—when a playful whistle sounded.
"Hey gorgeous, where you headed? Need a ride?"
She looked up. Tall, handsome guy in a trench coat and cowboy hat, straddling a motorcycle, smirking at her.
Who else but Sullivan?
"Pangolin Restaurant—how much?" Yuna grinned, walking over.
"For a beauty like you? Free. Just two kisses."
"Deal!" She leaned in.
Some random good Samaritan nearby panicked. "Hey miss, miss—don't fall for it! Guys like that are players, scamming girls like you. Hop in my car—one kiss and you're good!"
Yuna almost burst out laughing. "But he's way hotter than you. I'm taking his ride!"
She planted a kiss on each of Sullivan's cheeks, climbed on behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and they roared off into the distance.