It was mid-July 1991, late at night, in a New York alley that wasn't exactly quiet. Tucked away there was a pretty unusual shop.
A dozen or so motorcycles and cars of all different styles were parked out front—kinds that didn't quite fit the neighborhood vibe. Above the door hung a sign that read: "Flying Feather Muggle Item Modification Shop."
If all that was still kinda acceptable, then the two-meter-long jet-black panther sprawled across one of the vehicles was straight-up intimidating.
The weird part? People walking by the shop didn't even glance at this massive big cat. In fact, to them, the whole strange storefront might as well have been invisible.
The shop's owner was a guy named Sullivan. Right now, he was happily tinkering away on a brand-new Kawasaki ZXR250.
Sullivan stood about six-one, with skin a bit darker than the average guy, messy hair, and a mechanic's jumpsuit. He wore sporty, stylish glasses and was actually pretty handsome.
Suddenly, there was a loud CRACK from the entrance. Both Sullivan and the dozing panther lifted their heads at the same time, looking toward the noise.
A regular person might've thought it was just another robbery in the neighborhood, but Sullivan knew better—this was the sound of a sloppy Apparition.
Sure enough, a blond white kid around seventeen or eighteen popped into existence right at the doorway. He looked dizzy, wobbling around and taking a few stumbling steps before he finally steadied himself.
"Hey, Uncle Sullivan, is my broom mod finished yet?" the kid called excitedly into the shop once he got his bearings.
The moment the panther caught sight of the boy's face, it lost interest and buried its head back in its paws, snoring away again.
Sullivan set down his tools and walked out. He glanced around first, relieved that none of the passing Muggles had noticed the loud crack.
Then he said, a little annoyed, "Stewart, has nobody ever told you that students your age aren't allowed to Apparate outside school?"
"Come on, Uncle Sullivan, don't be like that. I only learned it last semester—it's seriously awesome. I even want to use it just to go grocery shopping!" Stewart shrugged it off.
"Yeah? Wait until the Aurors from MACUSA track you down through the Trace and see how chill you feel then," Sullivan scolded.
Stewart just grinned. "I didn't even use my own wand—this one's my dad's!"
As he spoke, he proudly waved the wand in his hand, like he'd pulled off something heroic.
Sullivan was speechless. Old man Stewart was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at MACUSA. If the Aurors traced it back to their own boss… well…
He decided not to waste any more words on the kid. With a wave of his hand, he said, "Flying broom, come!"
Whoosh—a broomstick zoomed out from inside the shop and landed neatly in Sullivan's hand.
"Wandless magic! Uncle Sullivan, that's so cool!" Stewart yelled in awe.
It wasn't exactly wandless magic, but Sullivan didn't bother explaining. He tossed the broom to the kid and said, "It's done. Go ahead and test it yourself."
Stewart caught it. It was a brand-new Nimbus 2000. At first glance, it didn't look much different from when he'd dropped it off—except for a small knob added at the very top of the handle.
"How does this work?" he asked.
"Channel some magic into it, turn the knob to the right, and picture whatever effect you want," Sullivan explained simply.
Stewart hopped on, hovering a few feet off the ground. He turned the knob, and the next moment, the broom lit up with colorful, flashing lights. A moving projection of a Thunderbird soaring appeared on the ground beneath him.
"Whoa! This is awesome! But how do I play music?" Stewart was pumped about the lights but had another question.
"Just think about it. I already loaded the whole playlist you gave me," Sullivan replied.
Right on cue, upbeat music blasted from the broom—Michael Jackson's "Beat It."
"Hell yeah! This is perfect! Uncle Sullivan, you're a genius. With this broom, I'm gonna be the flashiest guy at Ilvermorny during next year's House Quidditch Cup!"
Stewart shot straight up into the sky on his newly modded broom.
He messed around for about fifteen minutes before reluctantly coming back down. He set thirteen Galleons on the counter and said, "Uncle Sullivan, here's the rest of the payment! Your work is hands-down the best in the whole country!"
Sullivan pocketed the gold without much reaction to the praise. A Firebolt-style light show mod was nothing compared to some of the other stuff in his shop.
Still, since the kid was a customer, Sullivan offered a friendly warning: "Stewart, before you use that broom in an actual match, you should probably check with your Horned Serpent house head—or whoever your dean is—unless you want a full-season ban."
"Don't worry, Uncle Sullivan. If I get to show off this broom in front of the whole school, I'd take the ban and be happy about it!" Stewart laughed, totally unbothered.
Sullivan figured you can't talk sense into someone determined to mess up, so he just wished the kid luck in his head.
That's when Stewart spotted the Kawasaki ZXR250 inside the shop. He was instantly drawn to its sleek lines and bold colors, running over and asking excitedly, "Boss Sullivan, is this new stock? What kinda features does it have?"
Talking about his own creation put a proud smile on Sullivan's face. "It's a Japanese Kawasaki ZXR250. After my mods, it can hit a top flying speed of 1150 km/h.
"I also added a subsonic wind shield, invisibility, and an Undetectable Extension Charm on the storage trunk in the back—there's a full three-bedroom apartment in there.
"And finally, I built in autopilot with preset destinations. You could literally sleep in the apartment while it flies you around the world."
As Sullivan rattled off the features, Stewart's jaw dropped lower and lower. His mom was a Muggle, so he knew motorcycles pretty well.
But he'd never imagined one could do all this. His heart was racing.
"B-Boss… Sullivan… how much… does it cost?" Stewart stammered.
"Not too bad—just 5,000 Galleons," Sullivan said casually.
Stewart swallowed hard, staring at Sullivan with a gleam in his eye that was getting a little dangerous.
The black panther on the bike seemed to sense it. It raised its head and fixed a wary stare on the kid.
"Were you just thinking that if you took me out, you could keep the bike for yourself?" Sullivan asked with a chuckle.
"Huh… how… how'd you know?" Stewart flushed, totally caught.
Sullivan pointed at the panther. "Her name's Coal Ball. She's a Matagot—a magical creature that can naturally read minds. She knows exactly what you're thinking, so don't get any funny ideas around her, or she'll take you out."
Stewart definitely knew about Matagots—one of the Ilvermorny houses even used one as its mascot.
Realizing the huge black panther was the real deal, he got a lot more cautious. He thanked Sullivan again and quickly Apparated away with another loud CRACK.
Sullivan shook his head as the kid vanished, then turned to head back inside and finish his own project.
Just then, the sound of flapping wings filled the air. An owl landed on the shop's sign out front.