In the end, Sullivan grudgingly handed over 28 Galleons. It wasn't a big deal money-wise, but the fact that he could make wands himself? That stung a little.
Whatever. It was all for the quest. Stepping out of Ollivanders, he headed straight for Honeydukes. Sweets were his weakness, and if memory served, his new boss had a serious sweet tooth too.
The Honeydukes in Diagon Alley wasn't the main shop—that one was in Hogsmeade, just outside Hogwarts—but it still had a solid selection. Sullivan grabbed some fizzing whizzbees that actually zoomed around, then some creamy cow-shaped toffees.
Exploding slime-filled bonbons, jelly slugs that looked kinda gross (in the best way), and—of course—a big pile of cockroach clusters for the headmaster's favorite.
He stuffed the whole haul into his undetectable extension bag at his waist and left feeling pretty satisfied.
Instead of heading straight back to the Leaky Cauldron, Sullivan decided to wander Diagon Alley a bit more.
Flying brooms? Nah, not interested. He thought they'd been outdated for ages—zero comfort, and honestly, those Middle Eastern flying carpets were way better.
Magical pets? Pass. With Coal Ball around (his rather territorial cat), any new pet would probably end up in shreds.
Cauldrons? He glanced at his stats panel—Potions at LV3. A cauldron would just be decorative at this point.
...
As he strolled, Sullivan started getting that prickly feeling—like someone was tailing him.
He casually glanced back a few times while pretending to check out shop windows, but nothing suspicious jumped out. Still, the vibe wouldn't go away.
Spotting a narrow alley up ahead, he figured it was worth a test.
He drifted toward the entrance like it was no big deal, then suddenly ducked in. He slapped a detection ward on the wall by the opening, dashed around a corner, and hid.
A quick tap on his glasses linked him to the ward's feed. Sure enough, moments later, a hunched old witch in a cloak hurried into the alley.
Sullivan racked his brain—he hadn't noticed her on the street earlier. That cloak looked familiar, though... wait, hadn't it been on a middle-aged woman just a bit ago?
While he was thinking, the old witch whipped out her wand and cast a tracking charm. Silvery light sprayed from the tip, highlighting the faint footprints he'd left.
Bingo—definitely tracking him. No need to play nice anymore.
Sullivan reached into his extension bag and pulled out a Colt Python revolver.
He didn't wait for her to close in. He charged out and fired.
No bullet, no bang—just a red flash streaking from the barrel. Straight-up Expelliarmus.
The old witch reacted fast, flicking her wand to summon an iron-clad Protego shield that deflected it.
Sullivan sized up the faint white barrier, then squeezed the trigger again. Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—three more disarming spells in under a second.
This time, she clearly hadn't expected anyone to rapid-fire Expelliarmus like that.
The shield blocked the first two, then shattered. The third hit home, sending her flying backward, wand tumbling out of her hand.
Sullivan pressed the attack, closing in quick. He spun the cylinder—different chambers for different spells—and fired again. Yellow light this time: Incarcerous.
The spell turned into ropes mid-air, snaking around her like a living thing and tying her up tight as she flew.
Cylinder click—next up, Petrificus Totalus. He leveled the gun at the witch on the ground, approaching slowly.
"Who are you? Why are you following me?"
"Sir, I think there's been a misunderstanding—I mean no harm!" She squirmed a couple times.
When she saw that weird spell-shooting weapon pointed right at her, she backed down fast. "Really, it's a mistake!"
Sullivan stayed on guard, snatching her wand off the ground. "Misunderstanding? You cast a tracking charm and call it a mistake? Start talking, or I won't hold back."
"It's honestly a mix-up... I'm an Auror from the British Ministry of Magic. I was following you to protect you."
As she spoke, her appearance shifted dramatically—turning into a young woman with bubblegum-pink hair.
The hunched body straightened into killer curves, and as she changed, the Incarcerous ropes tightened automatically.
The binding style? Straight out of some expert Japanese rope master's playbook—whether that was the spell's doing or the caster's subconscious, who knows.
Sullivan felt his nose heat up; he almost got a nosebleed. He believed her about seventy percent now, but for safety: "Name."
"Nymphadora Tonks!" she said, sounding a bit exasperated.
Yup, that checked out. Back when Sullivan was in Britain, she'd been too young for Hogwarts, so he'd never met her. Right now, she looked about twenty—way prettier than in the movies.
He holstered the revolver. "You're a Metamorphmagus?" he asked, playing dumb.
"Yes, sir. You figured it out that fast?" Tonks looked genuinely impressed.
"I've heard about you. Sorry—got a bit heavy-handed there." He drew his actual wand, cast the counter-curse, and freed her from the ropes.
"No worries, sir. Anyone would fight back if they thought they were being stalked. Just means my stealth skills need work." She took her wand back with a grin.
"First time seeing a Metamorphmagus in person. Is this your real look?"
Tonks shrugged. "Dunno. I've been changing my appearance since I was little, so at this point... I'm not sure what my 'default' even is."
"Whoa, that's awesome," Sullivan said, totally sincere. Marry a Metamorphmagus? You'd basically have every type of beauty on demand. His brain supplied a few very bold ideas.
"It's not that cool. That thing you used? That's the cool one!" Tonks was eyeing his revolver like a kid at Christmas.
Sullivan brushed it off. "Just a little alchemical gadget. Anyway—about this 'protection' of yours?"
Tonks got serious, hair shifting to black, features sharpening. "You're an important partner with the Magical Congress of the United States. You're in Britain now, so we have to ensure your safety."
Sullivan nodded. Made sense—protection on one hand, surveillance on the other. The Ministry probably didn't fully trust him.
He smirked. "I think you saw—I don't exactly need protecting. And I'm heading to Hogwarts to teach. Hogwarts, mate—the safest place in Britain."
Tonks gave a helpless smile. "Fair point, but orders are orders. Protect you."
Sullivan thought for a second. "Fine. But drop the sneaking around. Just walk with me out in the open."
Tonks nodded, grinning again. "Deal. Thanks for understanding."