Chapter 549: The Magical Web
Inside The Three Broomsticks, the air was thick with the scent of warm spice and
sugar. Hermione's lingering worry did little to dampen Harry's excitement.
"I know, Hermione. But look where we are!" Harry said, gazing longingly through
the frosted window at the snowy street. "Where should we go next?"
"Zonko's is just a few doors down—" Justin said, arriving with two foaming mugs
of Butterbeer.
"We could check out the Shrieking Shack—" Ron suggested, though he looked a bit
pale at the thought.
Sean listened to their debate, leaning back into the plush upholstery of the
booth. Now that he had warmed up, he knew it was time to move. He had an
appointment at the Hog's Head, and Professor Quirrell was waiting for him at the
Fairy Tale Workshop.
Whoosh—
A draft from the window made Sean's breath hitch. A layer of frost began to
bloom on the glass.
"My dearest student..."
A cool, slightly teasing voice interrupted his thoughts. In the surface of his
Magic Hand Mirror, a familiar face appeared, smiling with maternal pride.
"Professor Terra," Sean replied, his voice gaining a hint of curiosity.
"I'm calling about that theory you proposed..." Professor Flora Olivia Terra was
clearly in her office; Sean could hear the rhythmic clack-whir of alchemical
machinery in the background.
"The Localized M-Net?" Sean guessed immediately.
"The feedback from Hogsmeade is exceptional," Professor Terra said, her silver
hair shimmering as she leaned in. "By the way, Uagadou has already fully
implemented the system. As the gossip-mongers in the papers are saying: the
Magical Web is the greatest innovation of the century. Any wizard who cannot
adapt is destined for the history books."
Terra's eyes sparkled like starlight as she spoke. Sean stared at the mirror,
momentarily lost in thought.
The "Localized M-Net" was one of Sean's recent modifications. Earlier, when
every mirror in Hogsmeade displayed the same announcement about the Workshop, it
was the M-Net in action. The principle was simple: a series of Linking, Mapping,
and Activation Charms tuned to a specific area.
Sean had originally designed the feature simply to "grind" his proficiency.
Progress on the Hand Mirror was slow, so he had added new functions and regional
networking to speed it up. It was the same logic he used for the Wizard's
Tome—as he expanded the internal space, his proficiency grew exponentially.
Soon, he would be able to house an entire menagerie of magical beasts within its
pages.
"The adoption rate among Hogsmeade residents is two hundred and twenty percent,"
Terra continued, her eyebrows arching.
"Two hundred and... twenty?" Sean blinked. "How is that possible?"
"Wizards from all over the country are traveling to the village just to test the
'Web,' even if it's just to check the weather forecast," she chuckled. "The
British Ministry, the MACUSA, the German and Norwegian Ministries... twelve
magical governments have already sent inquiries to The Emerald Workshop. They're
offering thirty thousand Galleons... per year."
Sean was genuinely taken aback. "I'll leave the negotiations to you, Professor."
"You are the only wizard in the world capable of maintaining the regional nodes,
Sean. I suspect that price is just the beginning," Terra said with a knowing
smile. "The M-Net makes those messy paper airplanes and drooling owl messengers
obsolete. In an emergency—say, a high-profile manhunt—the ability to coordinate
Aurors instantly is invaluable. Information is power, and the Ministries are
desperate for it."
"As you wish," Sean nodded.
Terra sometimes felt that Hogwarts was a wonderful place. She only regretted
that it had taken her seventy years to find a student like Sean.
"Can we expand the coverage further?" she asked, her tone light but her mind
sharp.
For any other wizard, such a request would be an impossible dream. But for her
only disciple, she had learned that there were no limits.
"The optimization potential is still significant," Sean replied. He looked at
the mirror, but his focus was on his system panel.
[Wizard Sean Green: Alchemy Talent - Gold] [High-Tier Magic Hand Mirror: Expert
(8,900/9,000)] [High-Tier Wizard's Tome: Expert (8,500/9,000)] [High-Tier Fairy
Tale Biscuits: Master (1,700/?)] [Advancement: Master three types of High-Tier
Alchemy to unlock the 'Alchemical Master' title (1/3)]
He was at the threshold of the Master rank. Beyond that lay the Legendary tier.
He knew that once his Alchemy level rose, his creative limits would skyrocket.
In the mirror, Terra remained silent for a long moment, watching Sean. The
"Grandmotherly" frustration she felt toward Minerva McGonagall flared up again.
She quickly tapped a message into a secondary mirror:
[Dear Minerva, regarding our previous discussion... a boy of his talent needs
proper guidance. No one is better suited to be his godmother than I...]
"I hope you enjoy your weekend, my... disciple," Terra said, emphasizing the
word. "One last thing: several newspapers are practically begging to be acquired
by the Workshop. They're offering significant shares just to ensure they can be
published on the M-Net. Come to my office when you return; you can take your
pick."
"I understand, Professor."
Sean had seen this coming. The M-Net was to the Daily Prophet what the printing
press was to scribes. Once everyone could check the news on their mirror,
physical papers were dead.
Before the mirror went dark, Sean caught a glimpse of a statistic on Terra's
desk:
[Daily Prophet: Offering 40% equity in exchange for 5% of The Emerald Workshop]
Sean paused. Maybe I misunderstood the scale of the profit, he thought.
Suddenly, a cold breeze swept through the pub, ruffling Sean's hair and making
the group turn toward the door.
The heavy oak doors of The Three Broomsticks swung open. Neville looked up from
his mug and promptly choked on his drink.
Through the swirl of snow and wind stepped Professor McGonagall and Professor
Flitwick. Behind them came Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a stout man
in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak.
It was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.
The table went dead silent. Harry, Butterbeer foam still on his lip, clutched
his glass. Justin froze, his eyes darting around for an exit.
The teachers and the Minister headed for the bar, but then turned and began
walking directly toward the booth where the students were sitting.
Drinking wasn't strictly forbidden at Hogwarts, but being caught with Butterbeer
by the Minister and the Deputy Headmistress was not on anyone's "to-do" list.
Sean didn't hesitate. He drew his wand and gave the table a sharp, silent tap.
Instantly, the six students, the mugs, and the table itself vanished from sight.
[You have practiced the Disillusionment Charm at a Master standard. Proficiency
+300]
"Disillusionment?" Hermione whispered, leaning close to Sean's ear.
Sean nodded, then realized she couldn't see him. "Yes," he whispered back.
The students held their breath as the teachers and Fudge settled into the booth
directly next to them. They could hear the heavy sighs and the creak of the wood
as the adults sat down. Madam Rosmerta appeared a moment later with a tray.
"A small Gillywater—"
"Mine," McGonagall said.
"Four pints of mulled mead—"
"Thanks, Rosmerta," Hagrid grumbled.
"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and a slice—"
"Mmm!" Flitwick squeaked, licking his lips.
"And a redcurrant rum for you, Minister."
"Thank you, Rosmerta, dear," Fudge said. "I must say, it's a pleasure to see you
again. Won't you join us? Just for a moment?"
"Oh, thank you, Minister." Rosmerta's high heels clicked as she took a seat.
Because the professors were blocking the exit, the invisible students were
forced to listen to every word.
"What brings you to our neck of the woods, Minister?" Rosmerta asked.
Sean could see Fudge's stout frame shifting in his seat. The Minister leaned in,
checking his surroundings for eavesdroppers. He had no way of knowing that a
Master-level charm was shielding six teenagers inches away.
"What else, dear? Sirius Black," Fudge whispered. "I expect you heard what
happened at the school on Halloween?"
"I heard the rumors," Rosmerta admitted.
"Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?" McGonagall asked irritably.
Hagrid shifted uncomfortably, his silence an admission of guilt.
"Do you think he's still in the area, Minister?" Rosmerta asked.
"I'm certain of it," Fudge said shortly.
"The Dementors have searched my pub twice already," Rosmerta noted, her voice
gaining a sharp edge. "They're scaring off my customers. It's bad for business,
Minister."
"I don't like them either, Rosmerta," Fudge said awkwardly. "But they are a
necessary precaution. I just ran into a few of them outside. They're furious
with Dumbledore—he won't let them set foot on the grounds."
"And quite right, too," McGonagall snapped. "How are we supposed to teach with
those horrors loitering about?"
"Hear, hear!" Flitwick squeaked.
"And yet," Fudge argued, "they are here to protect everyone from a much greater
threat. We all know what Black is capable of..."
"You know," Rosmerta said thoughtfully, "I still find it hard to believe. Of all
the people to go over to the dark side, Sirius Black would have been the last
I'd expect. I remember him as a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me then what
he'd become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."
"You don't know the half of it, Rosmerta," Fudge said grimly. "Few people know
the worst of what he did."
"The worst?" Rosmerta's voice was full of curiosity. "You mean, worse than the
massacre in the street?"
"Much worse," Fudge replied.
"I can't imagine. What could be worse?"
"You say you remember him at school, Rosmerta," McGonagall said softly. "Do you
remember who his best friend was?"
"Naturally," Rosmerta chuckled. "You never saw one without the other, did you?
The times they were in here—oh, they used to have me in stitches. Like two
halves of a whole, they were. Sirius Black and James Potter!"
A loud CLANG echoed as Harry's mug hit the floor. Ron reached out and gave Harry
a sharp kick under the table to keep him still.
Professor McGonagall looked toward their table, her eyes narrowing as she
studied the empty space. She looked directly at where Sean was sitting.
"Quite right," McGonagall continued, though her voice remained cautious. "Black
and Potter. They were the ringleaders of their little group. Both very bright,
of course—brilliant, in fact—but I don't think we've ever seen such a pair of
troublemakers."
"I dunno," Hagrid chuckled. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run for
their money."
"You'd have thought Black and Potter were brothers!" Flitwick added.
"Inseparable!"
"And so they were," Fudge said. "Potter trusted Black more than any of his other
friends. It didn't change after they left school. Black was the Best Man when
James and Lily married. And later, they named him Harry's Godfather."
Harry's body began to shake with a violent, suppressed rage. Ron and Justin
leaned in, physically pinning him to the bench. If they let go now, the Minister
and the Professors would find more than just an empty table.
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