While Ron was over there complaining about Hermione, Sullivan had quietly placed an invisible Detection Guard on his shoulder at some point and recorded the whole rant.
What was he planning to do with the video? Come on—he's a professor. What bad intentions could he possibly have? At most, he'd play it at their wedding someday. It'd be hilarious, right?
Harry and Ron had just finished changing when the compartment door slid open again. This time, it was a pale, blond little pretty boy—none other than young Master Malfoy.
"Is it true?" he asked. "The whole train's buzzing about it—saying Harry Potter's in this compartment. So that's you, right?"
"Yes," Harry said. He eyed the two other boys flanking Malfoy—they were both stocky and downright thuggish-looking, standing one on each side like a pair of bodyguards.
"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," the pale boy said casually, noticing Harry's stare. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
You had to admit, the kid had a certain swagger with those lines. But to someone like Harry, who'd been bullied his whole life, it came off as pretty arrogant.
Ron let out a small cough to keep from laughing.
Draco Malfoy turned to look at him.
"You think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more kids than they can afford."
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand for Harry to shake, but Harry ignored it.
"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," Harry said coolly.
A faint pink flush crept up Draco Malfoy's pale cheeks—he was clearly embarrassed—but he didn't blow up. He kept his composure.
"If I were you, Potter, I'd be more careful," Malfoy said slowly, his tone turning colder. "You should watch your manners, or you'll end up going the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either. If you hang around with riff-raff like the Weasleys or that oaf Hagrid, it'll rub off on you."
Harry and Ron shot to their feet. Ron's face was as red as his hair. "Say that again."
"Oh, you want to fight, do you?" Malfoy sneered.
Just as things were about to kick off, Sullivan figured it was time for the professor to step in. "That's enough. I think young Master Malfoy should leave now."
Only then did Malfoy notice Sullivan. He asked impatiently, "And who are you? Why are you even here?"
Before Sullivan could answer, Harry jumped in. "This is Hogwarts' new Muggle Studies professor. If you keep running your mouth, he'll deal with you."
Malfoy burst out laughing like a classic villain. "Hahaha! Muggle Studies professor? I'm terrified. Do you even know my father's on the Hogwarts Board of Governors? One word from him, and you're out of a job."
Seeing the kid's smug, untouchable expression, Sullivan felt a little helpless. He'd had his issues with Lucius Malfoy in the past, but he didn't want to take it out on the next generation. Since the boy was practically begging for trouble, though, Sullivan couldn't really be blamed.
He drew his wand. "Levicorpus!"
Instantly, Malfoy and his two goons were yanked upside down by their ankles and dangled from the train corridor's ceiling.
"You bastard! How dare you! I'm telling my father—he'll get you fired, you idiot!" Malfoy yelled, hanging there red-faced.
"Shut it," Sullivan said, flicking his wand again. "Langlock!"
Suddenly, the world went blissfully quiet—only the occasional muffled whimper reminding everyone that three kids were still strung up outside the compartment.
"Professor Sullivan , that spell is awesome!" Harry said excitedly. Then he paused, a little worried. "Is it really okay to leave them hanging out there like that?"
"Don't worry—I know what I'm doing," Sullivan reassured him with a calm look.
It wasn't long before they pulled into Hogsmeade Station. All the little witches and wizards had to get off—older students would take the thestral carriages up to the castle, while the first-years had to take the boats across the Black Lake.
Only then did Sullivan lower the three boys. In Malfoy's terrified glare, he said, "If you're planning to run to your father Lucius and tattle, do me a favor and pass along a message: tell him Sullivan is back, and he'd better not mess with me."
With that, Sullivan turned and walked away, leaving a humiliated Malfoy behind. The kid's expression flickered—he clearly realized this guy knew his dad. Should he still complain?
"Professor Sullivan , do you really know Malfoy's father?" Harry asked quietly, still worried the incident might cost Sullivan his job.
Sullivan waved it off lightly. "Of course. And not just his father—I knew your parents too."
"Really? Can you tell me about them?" Harry's eyes lit up.
"Not right now. We'll talk when there's time." By then, they'd stepped off the train.
Sullivan checked his system and saw that behind the "Finding Friends" achievement, it now read 3/10—just like he'd guessed. There'd probably be another reward at ten friends.
As he got off the train, Sullivan spotted Hagrid herding the first-years toward the boats and headed over.
"Hey, Hagrid! Long time no see. Mind if I tag along with the kids on the boats to the castle?"
"Oh, sure thing, Sullivan ! I couldn't believe it was really you—McGonagall mentioned you were coming back to teach this year, and I wasn't sure I bought it! Welcome home!" Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder, grinning wide.
Then he noticed the black cat in Sullivan's arms. At first he hadn't paid attention, but after a second glance, he caught on. "Oh, Sullivan ! Let me get a look at that little beauty!"
"Isn't that… a Matagot?" Hagrid asked after studying her for a moment, sounding a bit unsure.
Sullivan gave him a thumbs-up. "Hagrid, you're an absolute genius when it comes to magical creatures. You're the first person to recognize her. This is Coal Ball—my partner."
"Oh, she's gorgeous. Bring her by my hut sometime!" As a magical creatures expert, Hagrid didn't try to pet her—he knew better than to rush a friendship with a Matagot.
"No problem, Hagrid! We'll bring her some treats too."
Sullivan climbed into a boat as he spoke. The little fleet glided across the Black Lake, slipping into a hidden entrance. They disembarked and followed Hagrid through a dark tunnel in the rock.
At the end of the tunnel, they reached an enormous oak front door. After counting heads, Hagrid raised a massive fist and knocked three times.
The doors swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there, looking stern.
"The first-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here." She pulled the doors wide. The entrance hall was huge—so big you could fit a whole regular house inside it.
Like Gringotts, the stone walls were lined with flaming torches. The ceiling soared so high you could barely see it. Straight ahead was a magnificent marble staircase leading to the upper floors.
The kids followed Professor McGonagall across the flagstone floor. Sullivan could hear the hum of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right—the rest of the school must already be inside.
But McGonagall led the first-years to a small empty chamber off the other end of the hall. They crowded in, shoulder to shoulder, staring nervously around.