Hogsmeade Village, in Sullivan's newly purchased shop. Remus Lupin stared at the device in front of him—a sleek, handheld gadget—as he listened to Sullivan's explanation. He couldn't help but sigh in amazement.
"Su, you always come up with these wild, out-of-this-world ideas that nobody else could even dream of. No doubt about it—this is going to be a game-changing alchemical invention."
He paused, then shifted gears. "But what does any of this have to do with uncovering the truth about that matter I mentioned?"
Sullivan waved him off, signaling to be patient. "Do you think this thing could become a must-have for every wizard in Britain—heck, maybe the whole world?"
"Very likely!" Lupin nodded. Just from trying it out briefly, he was already hooked on the magical phone. If all his friends had one, he'd be able to stay in touch with them anytime, anywhere.
Sullivan continued, "Once we start selling these across Britain—not even all of it, just half the wizarding population would do."
"When half the wizards in Britain own a magical phone, we could send out an official notification from the company account: 'Professor Dumbledore's pet rat has gone missing.'"
"Or we could announce a pet rat beauty contest, ask everyone to submit photos of their rats, and offer a decent prize purse. What do you think would happen?"
Lupin's brain kicked into high gear. He shot up from his seat, excited. "Every wizard would send us pictures of their rats. We'd be able to spot Pettigrew!"
Sullivan snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Of course, there's one big assumption: Peter has to still be living among wizards. If he's hiding out in the middle of nowhere, we're out of luck. But I don't think he'd do that."
"You're right. If he's alive, he wouldn't isolate himself like that. He'd need news from the wizarding world. This plan could absolutely work." Lupin's face was flushed with excitement.
Sullivan seized the moment. "Consider this phone your employee perk—it's yours. Your job now is to sell as many of these magical phones as possible. You up for it?"
"Of course. But you know my... condition. I need time off every month to deal with it." Lupin was confident, but cautious.
Sullivan tapped the phone screen, lighting it up, and pointed to an icon. "This is a perpetual calendar app, based on an old traditional system. According to it, this year is the Year of the Goat."
As he spoke, he opened the calendar. It showed both the standard date and the traditional one, complete with a moon phase icon. He explained, "In this system, the 15th of every month is a full moon. I've set up automatic reminders on your phone—they'll warn you on the 14th, 15th, and 16th of each month."
Lupin looked at him in surprise. "You're saying that no matter the month, the 15th is always a full moon?"
Sullivan nodded.
"That's incredible. Thanks—this'll be really useful. If you're right, I won't have to bother calculating it anymore." Lupin clearly liked the feature, though he still seemed a bit skeptical.
Sullivan didn't elaborate further. In a few months, Lupin would see for himself how reliable it was. He moved on: "Also, I'll have Snape brew you a custom Wolfsbane Potion. It'll come out of your salary, though."
Lupin nodded. "Fair enough."
Finally, Sullivan pulled out a necklace. "One more thing—this is a little alchemical gadget I made. If you ever transform unexpectedly, it'll knock you out cold."
Lupin took it and joked, "Just knock me out? It won't kill me?"
"Don't worry—you're way more useful to me alive!" Sullivan grinned back.
They chatted a bit about Lupin's pay: a base salary of 20 Galleons a week, plus 0.1% of net profits. It didn't sound like much now, but once sales took off, it'd add up nicely.
Soon, they signed a formal magical contract. Unlike Muggle ones, wizarding contracts enforced themselves—no need for lawsuits if someone broke the terms.
Once everything was settled, Sullivan said, "All right, Remus—you can live here from now on. But first, I need your help with something."
"Your wish is my command, boss." Lupin had already slipped into employee mode.
"This shop has a little issue. There's a basement underneath it, and something's hiding down there—probably a rat. We need to catch it first..." Sullivan explained the strange things he'd noticed.
Ever since Sullivan mentioned the possibility about Pettigrew, Lupin had been extra sensitive to anything rat-related. Even though Sullivan was just using a figure of speech, Lupin immediately thought of Peter.
He said eagerly, "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go grab that rat."
Sullivan led Lupin to one of the bedrooms. According to the magical scanner Sullivan had built, the basement was directly below this room, with the entrance hidden under the bed.
The bed looked like it was built right into the wall—solid brick, the kind you'd see in old countryside homes, sometimes called a "built-in hearth bed." No way to just move it.
That meant there had to be a hidden mechanism somewhere to open a secret door. Lupin, with his experience as an undercover agent, was perfect for this.
He drew his wand and cast, "Aparecium!"
A spray of silvery powder shot from his wand. As he waved it around, the powder scattered into every corner of the room.
Two minutes later, the powder vanished. Nothing happened. Lupin gave an awkward smile. "Guess that didn't work. No problem—Revelio!"
Same process, but this time golden threads sprayed out. Two minutes later... still nothing.
Lupin's face reddened a bit. Fail on the boss's first task? He racked his brain, then had a flash of inspiration.
He waved his wand again and said, "Get moving!"
He raised his wand overhead. A bright yellow light burst out, and suddenly every unfixed object in the room started jiggling. Anything bolted down wiggled along its fixtures—side to side or up and down.
When Sullivan heard the incantation, he rolled his eyes internally. Get moving? What does that even mean? Sounds like something from a cheesy pop song.
But then he stared in shock as a brick in the wall slowly slid out, and the built-in bed swung open, revealing a dark passage.
"It... actually worked! How'd you do that?" Sullivan asked, amazed. He could tell it wasn't advanced magic—the fluctuations were mild.
Lupin explained, "Picked this up in Liechtenstein. Local wizards use it to find stuff they've misplaced ages ago."
"I figured—if we can't detect any magical traces, maybe the hiding method isn't magical at all."
Sullivan gave him a thumbs-up. Sometimes the simplest spell, used at the right moment, was the mark of a skilled wizard.
With the passage open, they headed down. Lupin took point, casting Lumos to light the way.
Sullivan kept one hand on his wand, the other on his magical handgun, staying alert. The spiral stairs were long—they walked for a full minute before the space opened up.
Suddenly, from a dark corner, a red spell shot out, streaking toward Lupin with a long tail of light.
Lupin reacted instantly, deflecting it with Protego and firing a binding curse back toward the source.
But his Lumos flickered out when he cast the second spell, plunging the basement into darkness again.
His binding curse missed. From another corner, another red spell flew straight at him.
In just five or six seconds, Lupin and the unknown attacker exchanged seven or eight spells. The attacker kept Apparating around, trying to catch Lupin off guard.
Lupin's combat experience shone—he shielded Sullivan behind him while dueling blind in the dark.
But to Sullivan, everything was crystal clear. He'd activated the thermal and night-vision modes on his glasses.
Thanks to that, he saw their opponent: a tiny figure, barely three feet tall. It wasn't running—it was Apparating constantly. And from the outline... it was a house-elf.
Sullivan pulled a magical lantern from his Undetectable Extension Charm bag and lit up the whole basement. The figure appeared clearly.
"Hold up! Hold up! I think there's been a misunderstanding. How about we talk this out?"
Sullivan wasn't just being nice. House-elves followed their masters' orders to the letter and rarely attacked wizards unprovoked. If this elf had belonged to the previous owner—who was dead—it should be free now and have no reason to fight them. Something was off.
The elf stopped Apparating and planted itself protectively in front of a pile of bones, glaring warily at them.
Now Sullivan and Lupin could see it properly: middle-aged for an elf (around forty), male, draped in a ragged old sheet. And most importantly—it was holding a wand.
Both wizards tensed. Not because the wand was powerful, but because the Ministry's Wand Usage Guidelines strictly forbade non-human creatures (including house-elves) from carrying or using wands. Most elves wouldn't even touch one unless ordered.
"What's your name?" Sullivan asked calmly, avoiding the wand issue for now. From what the elf had done so far, it didn't seem hostile toward wizards—at least it hadn't tried to seriously hurt anyone.
"I... I'm called Timo..." The elf hesitated, then answered softly. Its voice was high and clear—forty was still young for a house-elf.
Hearing the name, Sullivan glanced at it again. Huh. If you stuck a green hat on him and swapped the wand for a blowpipe, he'd look just like a certain sneaky video game character.
Seeing Timo still gripping the wand defensively, Sullivan holstered his handgun and wand. "Is that your master behind you? He's passed away, hasn't he?"
Timo glanced back at the bones, sadness flashing across its face. Then it straightened up proudly. "Master... before he died, Master told Timo to guard this house. Timo has been trying hard to fulfill Master's last wish!"
Sullivan and Lupin exchanged a look—they were starting to piece it together.
Sullivan said gently, "You're right—you've done great. Your master would be proud. But do you know what a home really is?"
"Home is this house! The house where Timo and Master lived together. If anyone tries to take it, Timo won't allow it!" Timo declared firmly.
"You're wrong, Timo. A house isn't a home. A house is just a place to live. You can have a house anywhere. A home is wherever your master is."
Timo froze, Sullivan's words hitting its deepest vulnerability. Tears welled up and rolled down its cheeks as memories flooded back.
It turned and threw itself into the pile of bones. That spot was noticeably cleaner than the rest—clearly where Timo had slept for the past thirty years.
"But... but Master is gone. Master was cursed with a terrible dark poison. He got weaker and weaker. Timo wanted to help, but Timo was useless... Timo couldn't save him..." Timo sobbed harder.
Sullivan and Lupin stayed quiet, letting the little elf grieve. It was obvious how deeply it had loved its master.
Lupin felt a pang in his chest, thinking again of Sirius and Pettigrew. One of them had betrayed James Potter.
"Sometimes," Lupin murmured, "the bond between a wizard and a house-elf is more genuine than anything between people."
Sullivan didn't respond. When Timo finally calmed down, he said softly, "A house-elf with a master has a home. A house-elf without one... how can it have a home?"
"Timo, what your master really wanted before he died was for you to live well—to find a new master who cares for you, and build a new home."
Lupin quietly gave Sullivan a thumbs-up.
Timo cried a little more, then looked up. It seemed to accept the words. "But... Master is gone. Where will Timo find a new master now?"