Chapter 568: The Warp Gate
"Wait... what?"
Sean looked at his Hand Mirror, slightly caught off guard. He had named the
regional M-Net channel "Hogwarts," but he hadn't yet implemented administrative
permissions. It seemed that, for now, every wizard on the frequency was an
"Admin."
Typical for an unrefined prototype, Sean thought. I'll have to patch that in the
next production run.
In the Quidditch Stands.
"Harry, am I dead? Tell me honestly, am I a dead man?" Ron asked, his face a
ghostly shade of grey.
With only thirty minutes left until the match, Harry sat in the third row,
looking at his mirror. He remained silent for two seconds before giving a slow,
solemn nod.
Ron went rigid, looking like a piece of salted pork left out to dry in the wind.
After a second of frantic staring, he tried to salvage the situation.
[System: 'Ron' has renamed the channel "The Know-It-Alls" to "Hogwarts".]
[System: 'Ron' has deleted a message.]
The mirror was silent for a few heartbeats.
[Justin: It's alright, Ron. A sincere apology can wash away any error.] [Harry:
Yeah, just say sorry. Anyway, the match is starting soon.] [Sean: Agreed.]
[Justin: Sean, are you here yet?] [Hermione: Sean, I'm having an input resonance issue. Where are you?] [System: 'Ron' has renamed the channel "Hogwarts" to "The Know-It-Alls".] [System: 'Ron' has renamed the channel "The Know-It-Alls" to "Hogwarts".] [Harry: ...] [Justin: ...] [Ron: Sean, I think this mirror is broken.] [Sean: The third-generation hardware is functioning perfectly, Ron.] [System: 'Ron' has renamed the channel "Hogwarts" to "I'M DOOMED".]
Harry sat in the stands, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple as he
fought back a fit of hysterics. Beside him, Ron looked like he was attending his
own funeral.
Fortunately, Oliver Wood chose that moment to appear, sparing Harry from
potentially suffocating.
"Harry, I've just found out who the Ravenclaw Seeker is. It's Cho Chang. She's a
fourth-year, and she's good... really good. I was hoping she wouldn't play; she
took a nasty knock during practice last week..."
Wood frowned, clearly annoyed by Cho's recovery. "Mind you, she's riding a
Comet 260. Compared to your broom, it's practically a joke."
Wood stopped mid-sentence as reality caught up with him. "Wait... your broom..."
Harry nodded silently. Ever since his Nimbus 2000 had been pulverized by the
Whomping Willow, he hadn't even attended a single training session. Sean had
promised a replacement was coming, but so far, Harry hadn't seen a single twig
of a new broom.
"Harry! You need a broom! You understand me? We can't—" Wood began to pace,
grabbing Harry's shoulders and giving him a desperate shake.
That was the scene Sean stumbled upon as he reached the third row.
"Excuse me," Sean said.
Harry and Wood were currently blocking the entire aisle.
"Sean!" Harry called out, looking relieved.
"Mr. Green..." Wood hesitated for a few seconds, looking as though he were
debating whether to ask if Sean intended to play for Ravenclaw next week. But
Sean was already moving past them.
"Oh! Sean, wait up!" Harry scrambled after him.
Sean heard Harry's heavy, puffing breathing behind him. He paused, a realization
hitting him. He let out a soft sigh. I forgot again.
He had been so lost in his magical research that he had completely ignored the
task Sirius had asked of him from Albania. Fortunately, it wasn't too late.
"Harry, about your broom..." Sean said.
"What about it?" Harry leaned in closer.
"Your godfather asked me to help deliver a gift to you. If you're willing, we
can go and retrieve it right now."
"Now? Sean, it's thirty minutes to kick-off!" Harry looked around frantically.
There wasn't even a delivery owl in sight.
"Now," Sean repeated. His tone was as casual as if he were discussing his
breakfast menu.
"But... I mean, where is it?" Harry's heart hammered against his ribs. The
reality was sinking in: Sirius had bought him a broom. Even if it was just a
Comet 260, Harry would cherish it.
"It's at Mr. Black's residence," Sean said.
Harry stared at him, bewildered. He felt as though he and Sean were speaking two
different languages.
"Mmm..."
Sean reached into his Wizard's Tome and produced a tiny, palm-sized wooden door
that seemed to be glowing with a faint interior fire. He walked into a secluded
corner beneath the stands and tossed the "toy" onto the grass.
As Harry watched, the door began to expand. It grew larger and larger until it
transformed into a full-sized, ornate stone fireplace, complete with a roaring
green fire. Pots of Floo Powder sat on the mantelpiece in small, hand-painted
vases.
"Through the Warp Gate, we can be there and back in minutes. Are you coming,
Harry?" Sean stepped toward the hearth.
Five minutes later, the two of them stepped back out of the green flames.
"That was amazing, Sean! How did you... a portable fireplace? And the Floo
network..." Harry was whispering excitedly, his eyes wide with wonder.
Sean simply took his seat in the stands. The "Warp Gate" was his latest
alchemical triumph. It was essentially a mobile Floo node. It had taken a
massive amount of negotiation (and gold) to convince the Floo Network Authority
to grant him a private, mobile frequency. For now, it was keyed only to Sean.
But it was worth it. He no longer had to rely on Pukwudgies or Professors to
travel long distances. He was truly mobile.
The atmosphere in the stadium had reached a fever pitch, but in their corner of
the stands, the students were huddled around Harry.
"What's that?" Ron asked, pointing to the long, brown-paper package in Harry's
hand.
"A broom. From my godfather... Sean helped me get it," Harry said, his voice
thick with pride.
"Merlin's beard—open it! Quick!" Ron urged.
Harry tore away the paper. He let out a sharp gasp, and a shimmering,
magnificent racing broom rolled into his hands. Ron leaned in so close his nose
was touching the handle.
"I don't believe it," Ron whispered hoarsely.
It was a Firebolt. It was the exact broom Harry had spent every day staring at
through the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies during the summer.
He held it out, the polished handle gleaming in the grey light. He felt it
vibrate with power and let go. The broom hovered in mid-air, perfectly balanced
at exactly the right height for him to mount.
Harry stared at it, his eyes tracing every detail from the gold registration
number on the handle to the flexible, aerodynamic birch twigs of the tail.
"Wicked," Harry breathed. "Simply wicked."
☆☆☆
-> SUPPORT ME WITH POWER STONE
-> FOR EVERY 200 PS = BOUNS CHAPTER
☆☆☆
-> 30 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you