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The Three Broomsticks was warm and cozy, the fire crackling in the hearth. Hermione's worries couldn't touch Harry's excitement.
"I know, Hermione. Where should we go next?" Harry asked, already gazing out the frosted window like he could see the whole village.
"Zonko's is right up the street," Justin said, sliding two fresh mugs of butterbeer onto the table.
"We could hit the Shrieking Shack," Ron suggested, though he sounded a little nervous.
Sean stayed curled in the deep armchair, half-listening while he planned his own route. He needed to slip away soon—first to the Hog's Head, then to the Child's Tale Workshop where Professor Quirrell was waiting to test the latest batch of cookies.
A cold draft slipped past the window and fogged his breath into little white clouds.
"My very favorite student…" a cool, teasing voice cut through his thoughts.
Sean glanced down. His Magic Hand Mirror had lit up, showing Professor Tyra's smiling face.
"Professor," he answered, a note of curiosity in his voice.
"I'm calling about that idea you floated last time," she said. In the background he could hear the soft mechanical click of alchemy equipment.
"The local Magic Web?"
Sean straightened a little.
"Hogsmeade's feedback is excellent," Tyra continued. Her silver hair drifted slightly as she moved. "Uagadou has already rolled it out across the entire school. Just like those gossiping reporters said—the Magic Web is the biggest revolution this century. Any witch or wizard who can't keep up is going to be left behind."
Her eyes sparkled like starlight.
Sean stared at the mirror, momentarily lost for words.
The local Magic Web had been one of his smaller tweaks. Right here in Hogsmeade, every mirror had flashed the same message at once—that was the result. The principle was simple: a short-term link between nearby mirrors so they could all broadcast identical information.
Magic Hand Mirrors already worked through a handful of basic charms—Linking, Mapping, and Activation. Sean had simply dialed back the Mapping function so more mirrors could connect at once.
In everyday terms, a single mirror supported video calls. The local web was more like a group text—except the central mirror did all the typing.
At first he'd only built it to grind proficiency faster. The more features he added, the quicker the numbers climbed—just like the ever-expanding space inside the Wizard's Book.
"Opening rate in Hogsmeade hit two hundred and twenty percent," Tyra went on, clearly pleased. "Far higher than we expected."
"Two hundred and… twenty?" Sean thought he'd misheard.
"Oh, plenty of witches and wizards are coming to Hogsmeade just to try the local web—even if it's only to check the weather." Tyra's smile turned sly. "The British Ministry, MACUSA, the German Ministry, Norway, Burkina Faso… twelve magical governments in total have expressed interest in purchasing. Thirty thousand Galleons a year."
Sean blinked, surprised.
"I'll leave the decision to you, Professor."
"You are currently the only wizard alive capable of creating a local Magic Web," Tyra said, voice light but meaningful. "I imagine the price will have to go up…"
"I'm simply your student, Professor."
"Oh?" Her eyes danced with amusement. "Then we'll let them wait. Thirty thousand is nowhere near the true value of this technology. The Magic Web does something those messy paper airplanes and owl post can never replace—especially in emergencies. Instant, secure communication could change an entire Ministry… particularly during raids."
Sean could already picture it: no more relying on slow owls or enchanted memos. One order from the Minister and every Auror would know instantly. If the web could be made mobile, its value in the field would be limitless.
It meant the complete erasure of information lag.
No magical government could ignore that.
"Whatever you decide," Sean said simply.
Tyra's smile softened for a moment. She sometimes wondered why she hadn't come to Hogwarts sooner—this place really was special.
"Can the web's coverage still be expanded?" she asked, keeping her tone casual.
For any normal wizard, pushing an already rare innovation further would have been impossible. But this was her only student, and she had yet to find the edge of his talent.
This was the boy she had waited seventy years to teach.
"There's still plenty of room to optimize," Sean answered.
He was staring at the mirror, but his eyes were really on his system panel.
[Wizard Sean, Alchemy Talent: Gold]
[Advanced · Magic Hand Mirror: Expert (8,900/9,000)]
[Advanced · Wizard's Book: Expert (8,500/9,000)]
[Advanced · Child's Tale Cookies: Master (1,700/?)]
He had reached Master-level practice standards on the mirrors, but the proficiency itself was still Expert. Once he crossed into Master—or pushed his overall Alchemy to Master—the ceiling would rise dramatically.
In the mirror Tyra was quiet for a long moment, simply watching her student.
Then, on a second mirror only she could see, she sent a quick message:
[My dear Minerva, about that matter… you know… such a big boy… of course he's brilliant, but still… I'll be frank, Minerva—he needs a godmother, and no one is more suitable than me…]
"Have fun today, my… student," Tyra said, putting extra weight on the last word. "One last thing—several newspapers are trying to buy shares in the Workshop. I paid them a visit. They're willing to trade some of their own stock if we let them run a few stories. When you get back to the castle, stop by my office and pick whichever ones you like, my student."
"I understand, Professor."
Sean had expected this. The rise of the Magic Hand Mirror was a death blow to traditional paper publications. Once every mirror could connect to the same web, who would still buy a newspaper that took days to arrive?
Just before the mirror went dark, Sean caught a glimpse of the bottom of Tyra's ledger:
[Daily Prophet: 40% of their shares in exchange for 5% of Emerald Workshop]
"?"
He might have misunderstood what the Professor meant by "a few stories."
A sudden cold draft ruffled his hair. The other students turned toward the door.
The Three Broomsticks' entrance swung open. Neville looked up from the rim of his mug and promptly choked.
McGonagall and Flitwick stepped inside on a swirl of snow, followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a stout man wearing a dark yellow-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak—Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic.
The little group of students fell instantly silent.
Harry's mouth was still full of butterbeer. Justin froze, trying to find an exit route.
The professors and the Minister headed for the bar, then abruptly changed direction and walked straight toward their table.
Hogwarts didn't forbid students from drinking butterbeer, but getting caught by professors was still awkward.
Sean flicked his wand under the table.
Six students, along with their mugs and butterbeer, vanished.
[You have practiced the Disillusionment Charm at Master standard. Proficiency +300]
"Disillusionment Charm?" Hermione whispered, leaning close.
Sean nodded, then realized they were all invisible.
"Yes," he added.
The others shot him grateful looks—even though they could only see empty air.
They held their breath as the adults settled into the next table with grunts and sighs.
Madam Rosmerta arrived a moment later, tray in hand.
"A small glass of violet water—"
"Mine," McGonagall said.
"Four pints of mead—"
"Thanks, Rosmerta," Hagrid rumbled.
"One gillywater with ice and umbrella cherries—"
"Mmm!" Flitwick smacked his lips.
"And that leaves you with the red-currant rum, Minister."
"Thank you, Rosmerta, my dear," Fudge replied. "I must say, it's wonderful to see you again. Won't you join us?"
"Oh, thank you, Minister."
Rosmerta's glittering high heels clicked as she sat down.
The adults had blocked Sean's view of the room, so he and the others could only listen.
"What brings you all the way out here, Minister?" Rosmerta asked.
Fudge shifted in his seat, clearly checking for eavesdroppers. Master-level Disillusionment kept them perfectly hidden.
"What else, my dear? Sirius Black, of course. I assume you've heard what happened at the school on Halloween Eve?"
"I've heard a few rumors," Rosmerta admitted.
"Did you have to tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" McGonagall snapped.
Hagrid hunched his massive shoulders, embarrassed.
"Do you think Black is still in the area, Minister?" Rosmerta asked quietly.
"I'm certain of it," Fudge said shortly.
"You know the Dementors have searched my pub twice?" Rosmerta's voice sharpened. "They've scared off half my customers. It's bad for business, Minister."
"Rosmerta, my dear, I don't like them either," Fudge said, sounding uncomfortable. "Necessary precautions… regrettable, but you see… I just ran into a few of them outside. They're furious with Dumbledore—he won't let them onto the castle grounds."
"I should hope not," McGonagall said tartly. "How are we supposed to teach with those dreadful things drifting about?"
"Exactly, exactly!" squeaked Flitwick, his feet dangling a foot off the floor.
"Still," Fudge argued, "they're here to protect us from something far worse. We all know what Black is capable of…"
"I still can't believe it," Rosmerta said thoughtfully. "Of all the people who joined You-Know-Who, Sirius Black was the last one I would have picked. I remember him at Hogwarts. If you'd told me back then what he'd become, I'd have said you'd had one too many meads."
"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," Fudge said heavily. "Very few people do."
"Worse than murdering all those innocent people?"
"Much worse," Fudge answered.
"I can't imagine anything worse."
"You said you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," McGonagall said softly. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"
"Of course," Rosmerta laughed lightly. "You never saw one without the other, did you? Those two in my pub—oh, they used to make me laugh so hard. Sirius Black and James Potter, quite the double act!"
Harry's mug slipped from his fingers and clattered loudly on the floor. Ron kicked him hard under the table.
McGonagall glanced toward their table, frowning at the empty space where Sean sat.
"Exactly," she continued. "Black and Potter were the ringleaders of their little group. Both brilliant—exceptionally so—but I don't think we've ever seen a pair of troublemakers quite like them—"
"I don't know," Hagrid chuckled. "Fred and George Weasley could give them a run for their money."
"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" Flitwick chimed in. "Inseparable!"
"Precisely," Fudge said. "Potter trusted Black more than any other friend. That never changed. Black was best man at James and Lily's wedding. Later they made him Harry's godfather."
"Of course, Harry has no idea. You can imagine how much that knowledge would torment him."
Harry was shaking. Ron and Justin had to hold him down so McGonagall wouldn't notice the invisible boy right beside her.