Seán and the others had to sign a no-magic notice, so at the station he was stuck dragging his trunk by hand—no Levitation Charm allowed.
Professor McGonagall grabbed his arm, and with a whoosh of noise, they landed in Diagon Alley.
As usual, she got distracted in five seconds flat by the Muggle clothing shop. Her suitcase was already stuffed, but she still hunted for summer outfits.
Seán was lost in thought. Justin's last words had hit home.
Yeah, they were all Muggle-born, so when the Chamber opened, they were easy targets.
Seán didn't know if he could take the basilisk yet, but his Transfiguration was one thousand points from Master level. Once he settled at the Burrow, he'd unlock it.
That would be his strongest magic branch.
Of course, if things got really bad, he had another ace up his sleeve.
[Title: Dark Arts Saint (Expert)]
[Greatly boosts Dark Arts perception, talent, and overall mastery]
Since hitting Expert in Dark Arts, he'd unlocked a new, special perk:
- Boosts spell power
- Better emotional control while casting
It made him realize how crude his magic control still was. Wizards don't just get more power with age—they get finer control.
Seán could push maybe 80% of his raw power. Pretty good.
McGonagall? She could hit 100%, and with mental focus, crank it to 200%.
He scrolled down his status:
[Wizard Seán – Dark Arts Talent: Gold (Saint title applied)]
Note: Average wizard = Green
[Evaluation: A once-in-history Dark Arts prodigy. The Dark Arts wants you. You were born to rule it.]
Seán sighed. The Dark Arts had already rolled out the red carpet.
[Impediment Jinx: Master (100/?)]
[Reducto: Expert (2000/9000)]
[Diffindo: Expert (3000/9000)]
…
[Advancement: 7 Master-level Dark spells → unlock Dark Arts Master title]
Master was clearly a whole new tier. He couldn't even see the proficiency cap anymore.
Still, Master-level Impediment Jinx had evolved: it used to hit one object. Now it froze everything in an area.
"Professor, can I pop into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?"
Seán asked McGonagall while she browsed clothes. She waved him off instantly.
"Oh, kids love that place. The weird wizard chess sets, the transfiguration cookies—such fun. Shame there's so few. Whoever makes them loves teasing us."
The blonde shopkeeper, hair perfect as always, smiled.
"Not that few," McGonagall sighed.
She thought of how busy the little wizards were, still finding time to craft these. Pride or pity? Hard to say.
"Oh?"
The shopkeeper witch caught something in McGonagall's tone. She remembered last time they were here—Seán had been whisked inside by little Mr. Green. A guess flickered.
McGonagall wouldn't make them herself… so who…?
"Remarkable child, Professor. You must be proud."
The shopkeeper's words hit McGonagall's heart. She ended up buying way more clothes—the shopkeeper's smile got brighter with every Galleon.
…
Gringotts.
Seán stumbled out, blinking.
Who dumped that many Galleons in his vault?!
He'd just wanted pocket money. Instead he got blinded by a mountain of gold.
Were Weasleys & Green's Wizard Wheezes that profitable?
No time to wonder. He headed straight for one spot.
Diagon Alley was packed—everyone buzzing about the new Weasleys & Green's opening soon.
Animals hopped everywhere, making a joyful racket.
In front of an empty, rundown shop, Seán met Professor Quirrell.
"Mr. Green…"
Quirrell still looked timid and twitchy.
"Professor, did you pick one?"
"Of course. You wanted hidden, open, magic-allowed… This shop fits.
Diagon Alley's the biggest wizard shopping street in Britain, and this spot's vacant and cheap.
But… there's already a joke shop here. Since you want to sell magical items, we could look elsewhere…"
Quirrell weighed his words.
"No need, Professor."
Seán shook his head.
This was the shop Tella told him to open—to sell Fairy Tale Cookies.
Truth is, these cookies were way too advanced for regular wizards to get their hands on.
Unless Seán hit Master in Alchemy and could whip them up like candy.
His life at Hogwarts had been calm and routine lately.
Alchemists from every country, the Ministry, ancient families—they'd turned Britain upside down looking for the genius who stole magical creature authority.
No one dreamed Hermes, the prodigy, was just a Hogwarts student.
Even if they did… who'd dare break into Hogwarts?
"G-good. We open… second week."
Quirrell asked nothing, just reported.
Seán blinked. This wreck of a shop—cleaned, rebuilt, decorated—in one week?
Magic is too OP.
"We'll sell cookies," Seán said.
"The animal-transfiguration kind… I see."
Quirrell's eyes flickered. Sure, the wizarding world protects patents—but if the inventor voluntarily transfers rights…
"Professor?"
Seán had no clue what Quirrell thought he "got."
"Here."
Seán pulled out a purring cat-shaped cookie.
"This is…"
Quirrell froze. Something clicked.
He remembered snippets from the High Table—that alchemy professor chatting with McGonagall:
> "Hogwarts' own… recognized by the International Alchemical Conference Joint Committee as the most gifted alchemist in 600 years… youngest member ever… winner of the Udala International Alchemical Conference Pioneer Gold Award…"