In a cozy bachelor apartment in Manhattan, New York, Sullivan and Yuna stepped inside together. The moment the door clicked shut, Yuna spun around, threw her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a deep, hungry kiss.
Sullivan kicked the door closed behind him, wrapped an arm around her slim waist, and kissed her back just as fiercely. Coats were tossed aside as they stumbled toward the living room in a heated tangle.
Suddenly, Yuna shoved him hard. Sullivan tumbled backward onto the sofa with a surprised laugh. He was about to pull her down with him when she drew her wand and pointed it at his chest.
"Whoa, whoa, easy, babe!" Sullivan raised both hands in surrender, grinning. "What's going on? Everything was fine a second ago—what did I do?"
A sly smile curved on Yuna's lips. The tip of her wand flared with blinding light as she shouted, "Quick-Change Charm!"
Sullivan blinked hard, momentarily blinded. When his vision cleared, the entire room had transformed—soft romantic pinks, silky bedding visible through the open bedroom door, and the sofa now felt plush and luxurious, like something out of a high-end love hotel.
And Yuna… Merlin.
His gaze immediately dropped to those endless legs—over a yard long and wrapped in sheer fishnet stockings that made her already pale skin look impossibly smoother.
She wore a sleek black bodysuit cut like a daring swimsuit, paired with long white silk gloves. It was a classic bunny girl costume, minus the ears.
Yuna quickly fixed that. With a flick of her wand above her head, two realistic floppy bunny ears appeared and twitched playfully. Another tap behind her added a fluffy white cottontail that swished gently—real, movable, and very much alive.
She sauntered toward him with deliberate, teasing steps, every movement designed to drive him crazy.
Sullivan swallowed hard and muttered, "Magic… bloody brilliant."
…
The next morning, Yuna lay curled against Sullivan's chest, looking adorably exhausted. Ever since he had pushed his magic to Level 8, the constant flow of power had significantly strengthened his body. He was stronger, fitter, and his stamina had increased dramatically. They hadn't fallen asleep until three in the morning.
"Time to get up—we've got work," Sullivan murmured, gently brushing his fingers across her cheek.
"Ugh… five more minutes, please?" she whined, her voice soft and sleepy.
He gave in with a chuckle, got up first, and made breakfast. By the time they Apparated to the Woolworth Building, it was 8:59. Yuna barely made it to her desk on time.
"All your fault," she grumbled, pinching his arm hard. "I almost lost a whole Galleon for being late!"
Sullivan laughed. "Fair enough. Anyway, I'll head up to Stewart's office on my own. You get to work."
Yuna's face fell—she had known he was only staying for one day, but hearing it again still stung.
Sullivan pulled her into a quick hug and kissed her forehead. "Hey, don't look like that. True love doesn't need us glued together every second."
She managed a small smile and shooed him off. "Go on, then."
Just as they lingered in the corridor, a deliberate cough sounded nearby. Sullivan glanced over—it was the same guy from the airport pickup, smirking at them like he'd caught them sneaking sweets.
Both Sullivan and Yuna shot him a look that clearly said, Mate, you don't even have a name—mind your own business. Then they turned dramatically and walked off in opposite directions.
In Stewart's office, Sullivan wasted no time. He dumped ten magical phones onto the old man's desk in one big pile.
"Well, well," Stewart said with a hearty laugh, picking one up. "Since you're being so thoughtful, I'll let Carter's little stunt at school slide."
Carter—the kid who'd had his Nimbus 2000 modded in Sullivan's shop right before term started. Sullivan's curiosity piqued. "He didn't get kicked off the team, did he?"
Stewart shot him a glare. "You've got some nerve asking. I had to personally visit the school and beg Principal Rector to keep him from getting expelled altogether."
"That bad? What'd he do?"
Stewart's eyes narrowed dangerously. Sullivan raised his hands in defeat and flopped onto the sofa. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it. Just try out the phones."
Stewart ignored him, powered one on, added Sullivan as a contact, then handed another to his secretary to take outside.
After fiddling with it for a bit, Sullivan's phone buzzed on the desk. Message from Stewart, three meters away: So, how do we do this? License the patent to my factories again?
Sullivan looked up. "Boss, you couldn't just talk to me like a normal person?"
Stewart's phone vibrated in his hand. I don't feel like talking. If you license it, I'll give you another 15% stake.
"Nah," Sullivan said. "I've already built a factory back in Britain. But I can give you exclusive distribution rights for the whole of America."
Stewart frowned and typed: A factory in Britain? You sure you can protect it?
"With Dumbledore involved, it'll be fine for now." Sullivan name-dropped confidently—he left out that Dumbledore wasn't an investor, just the one who'd recommended a factory manager.
Stewart nodded. Even in America, Dumbledore's name carried weight. He typed: Fine. Tell me about the distribution deal.
"I've got three production lines right now—about eight hundred units a month total. I can allocate three hundred to you."
"In Britain I'm planning to sell them for fifty Galleons each. For you, no markup—just thirty-five Galleons per unit. Sell them for whatever price you want; I won't interfere."
Stewart thought it over, then typed: Three hundred a month is too few. Britain's tiny—you won't need that many. Give me six hundred.
Sullivan shook his head. "Can't do it. My market isn't just Britain—it's the rest of Europe too. Four hundred a month max for now. Once I add more lines, I'll increase your quota."
Stewart agreed with a grunt. When do we launch? I need to start marketing.
"Let's say the day before Christmas," Sullivan suggested. "A nice holiday gift to the wizarding world."
And so they negotiated—one speaking, one typing—for a full bizarre hour until the contract was signed.
Fourteen thousand Galleons hit Sullivan's account. He stood, shook Stewart's hand, and left the ten sample phones as a gift.
Thanks to recent optimizations, Sullivan had brought the production cost down to seven or eight Galleons per unit—and it would drop further once supply chains stabilized. Gifting ten phones was nothing. With steady output of eight hundred a month, he stood to clear nearly thirty thousand Galleons in profit.
After saying goodbye to Stewart, Sullivan hurried back to Hogwarts. The latest edition of the Daily Prophet had just hit the stands.
Maybe because the wizarding world had been quiet lately, or maybe because Rita Skeeter had pulled strings, Teemo's story made the front-page headline: Once a Giant of Britain's Wandmaking Trade—Why Was It Consigned to History's Dustbin?
Kingsley Shacklebolt and his Auror team were on regular duty that day. Without Tonks—the team's resident ray of sunshine—a bunch of grown men found the office pretty dull.
Bored, Kingsley picked up the Prophet and immediately spotted Skeeter's article.
Born in 1949, he'd bought his wand from that very shop as a first-year. During a Charms lesson, it had exploded—leaving a scar on his hand and injuring his desk mate's face. He still remembered the fury.
He started reading, grumbling under his breath… then slowed down. Something felt off. The second half of the article was entirely about this new "Flying Feather Magical Phone Experience Store," and the features described sounded exactly like that little rectangle Tonks was always tapping at.
When he turned to page two and saw the photo of the shopfront—with Tonks and Sullivan standing side by side—his jaw dropped.
"Bloody hell! Tonks made the front page of the Prophet!"
His team crowded around instantly. One of the younger Aurors asked, "Boss, isn't that 'magical phone' the same gadget Tonks uses to chat? They're actually going on sale? I want one!"
"Me too!" "Count me in!" The others chimed in excitedly, then all turned to Kingsley.
"Boss, write to Tonks quick—ask when they go on sale, how much they cost, and if we can pre-order…"
Listening to the chatter, Kingsley couldn't resist either. He grabbed parchment and quill and fired off a letter to Tonks.
Plenty of other wizards across Britain had the same reaction that day. Most didn't know Tonks personally, but the article had them hooked on the idea of magical phones.
It was Wednesday—Sullivan's day teaching fifth-years. After class, he called out, "Gemma Farley, hang back a moment!"
"Yes, Professor Sullivan?"
Once the classroom emptied, Sullivan flicked his wand to close and lock the door. Gemma instantly tensed—part nervous, part shy, part… hopeful?
"P-Professor Sullivan… what… what are you doing?" she asked, head down, cheeks pink.
Sullivan, completely oblivious to the vibe, got straight to business. "Right, Gemma—I hear your family's in international trade. Mind telling me a bit more about that?"
Gemma blinked, realized she'd totally misread the situation, and felt a mix of relief and annoyance. Keeping her head lowered to hide the flush, she answered,
"Oh, that… yeah. We import specialty potions and magical toys from France, Germany, Spain… and export British sweets and toys the other way. We also have our own shops in France, Germany, Spain, and Italy."
Sullivan had already known the Farleys had solid trade channels—that was part of why he'd taken Gemma on as a protégé. But hearing they owned physical stores in four countries made his eyes light up.
He pulled three magical phones from his Undetectable Extension bag. "These are my latest alchemical invention. Here's what they do…"
After explaining the functions, he continued, "Write to your parents about this. If they're interested in partnering, they're welcome to visit Hogsmeade this weekend to talk. Keep these three phones—you and your family can test them out."
Gemma quickly figured out how they worked and felt a rush of excitement. Being tied to an alchemy genius like Sullivan could catapult the entire Farley family forward.
"Professor, can I add you on FlyMessage?" she asked eagerly.
"Of course—I was going to add you anyway. Also, track down a few people for me this week: third-year Gryffindors George and Fred Weasley—the twins; third-year Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory; and sixth-year Ravenclaw Alice Lavine."
"The five of you come to my office Friday night at eight. You're the ones I've chosen—there'll be a nice surprise waiting."
Gemma realized instantly: Sullivan was starting some kind of club or society, and they five would be the founding members. She grinned. "We won't be late, Professor. Promise."
Back in his office, Tonks was already waiting on the sofa, beaming.
"Congratulations!" she said.
"For what?"
"Five people have already asked me to order magical phones for them!" She waved a handful of letters, practically glowing with pride. Praise me, praise me!
Sullivan skimmed the notes and laughed, ruffling her hair. "You're amazing. From now on, you're our top salesperson."
"Tell them we launch the day before Christmas, fifty Galleons each. But since they're your friends, I'll knock ten Galleons off for each of them."
Tonks shook her head quickly. "No, no—don't give me special treatment. Full price is fine."
"Relax—it's still profitable for me, and you absolutely deserve the perk." He smiled fondly.
Tonks's grin was radiant. Sometimes, for a young woman in love, it wasn't grand promises she wanted—just those little signs that she mattered more than anyone else.