The return to Hogwarts was anything but quiet.
Whispers began the moment Oliver stepped back into the Great Hall. It had been a week—seven full days of absence, a lifetime in the rumor-mills of schoolchildren—and during that time the Daily Prophet and half a dozen smaller papers had filled their pages with chatter about the boy who bound a phoenix, who invented the phone, who brought the world closer than it had ever been.
At first, it was only stares. Some awed, others wary, and more than a few openly envious. Students leaned across tables, whispering, That's him, that's the one who put the towers up. A second-year Hufflepuff dropped his fork in surprise when Oliver walked by. A Ravenclaw prefect nudged her friend and murmured something about how "you'd expect him to have a whole entourage by now."
But Oliver walked alone, Nyx in her half-grown chick form perched lightly atop his head, the faint flickers of starlight shimmer trailing her feathers. He carried himself with the same calm as before—more confident perhaps, but not arrogant.
He slid onto the Gryffindor bench near Harry and Hermione, though technically he still wore Slytherin's green tie. Nobody stopped him.
Harry broke into a grin. "About time you came back."
Hermione looked like she wanted to launch into a barrage of questions immediately, but restrained herself when she caught Oliver's small smile, quiet and steady. He wasn't the type to boast—never had been—and she respected that.
Ron's absence was noticeable, but nobody mentioned him. Not tonight.
Across the hall, Ravenclaws were murmuring about the intricacy of the rune systems he must have used. A group of fifth-years speculated whether he'd publish his designs in Ars Magica Quarterly. Even Slytherins—some sneering, some grudgingly impressed—spoke about how the phones would be the next marker of wealth and status. One green-robed boy muttered, "If you don't have one by the end of term, you're practically a Squib."
The faculty noticed too. Professor Flitwick's eyes twinkled with pride whenever they landed on Oliver, and even McGonagall's lips twitched, as though fighting back a smile. Snape, predictably, looked unimpressed, though his narrowed gaze followed Oliver for much of the meal.
The world outside Hogwarts had changed in Oliver's week away, and now, so had the atmosphere within its walls.
By the time dessert appeared, a steady hum of excitement filled the hall. Students from every table were already talking about phones—about whether their families could afford them, about the rumors of different models, about what it would mean to speak with relatives halfway across the world at the press of a button. Some called it genius. Others grumbled about "one boy having too much power."
Oliver listened quietly, eating little, waiting.
When the meal wound down and students began to drift out, he leaned toward Harry, Hermione, and the twins. "Stay a moment. I've something for you."
The four exchanged curious glances, but stayed seated. George arched a brow. "Something shiny, I hope."
Fred smirked. "Or something that explodes. Either way, we'll love it."
Oliver just shook his head, stood, and slipped from the bench. He returned moments later with a small satchel, carefully placed on the table between them. Nyx chirped once, hopping from his head onto the wood as if to announce the moment.
"I wanted you to have these," Oliver said, unfastening the satchel and drawing out small rune-etched boxes. He placed one in front of each of them—two for Fred, two for George, two for Hermione, and one for Harry.
The twins immediately leaned forward, eyes gleaming. Hermione hesitated, almost reverent, as though she already guessed what was inside. Harry blinked, utterly unprepared.
Oliver tapped one of the boxes. "Open them."
The lids lifted with faint glimmers of enchantment, revealing the polished, hand-crafted forms of the Tier Four phones. Sleek, runes etched with precision, each one unique in detail but unmistakably the product of hours of painstaking work.
Fred let out a low whistle. "Blimey."
George nearly dropped his in shock. "These are—are these—"
"The best ones I can make," Oliver interrupted gently. "They'll work anywhere. Across the world, across oceans. You won't need to worry about range, or subscriptions. These are yours."
For once, the twins were speechless.
Hermione's eyes filled as she touched the device, tracing the runes with trembling fingers. "You made one for my parents, too?"
Oliver nodded. "So you can talk to them whenever you want. You'll never have to feel so far away again."
Her lips quivered. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to," Oliver replied softly.
Harry stared at his, blinking as though afraid it might vanish if he looked away. "This… this is just for me?"
"Just for you," Oliver confirmed. "Something no one can take away."
Harry swallowed hard, fingers curling around the phone like it was a lifeline. "Thanks, Oliver. Really."
Fred finally found his voice. "You're insane."
George followed with a grin. "And brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."
They each lifted the extra boxes. "Two for Mum and Dad? You realize you've just guaranteed our mother will adore you forever, right?"
Oliver chuckled, faint but genuine. "I thought it might help."
Hagrid, who'd lumbered closer during the exchange, patted the pocket where his own phone already rested—the prototype Oliver had given him during testing. "Works a treat, it does. Fang's already knocked it off the table once, an' it still rings like new."
The group laughed, the tension easing into warmth.
Nyx fluttered back onto Oliver's head, chirping approvingly as though sealing the moment.
For the first time in days, Oliver let himself relax. Surrounded by friends, by people who believed in him, he could almost forget the stares, the whispers, the weight of expectations pressing in from the outside world.
Almost.
But he wasn't finished yet.
He still had something more to say
Oliver looked around at his friends, each one cradling the phones as though they were precious artifacts. The twins still grinned ear to ear, already whispering about the pranks they could pull with such instant communication. Hermione's fingers lingered on hers, knuckles white with the weight of what it meant—connection to her parents, a lifeline she'd thought Hogwarts years would sever. Harry sat very still, staring at his phone as if it were a promise he never expected to be kept.
The warmth in Oliver's chest spread, but behind it, there was a thought pressing forward—an idea too big to keep locked away. He had carried it quietly since the crystal expanded, since the moment he realized what the network meant.
He cleared his throat, the sound soft but steady. "I… wanted to tell you something else."
The four of them turned, attentive, even Nyx cocking her head as if she, too, sensed the shift in Oliver's tone.
"These phones," Oliver began slowly, "aren't just about us. Or Hogwarts. Or even Britain. They're about the world. Wizards everywhere—and maybe one day, even Muggles too."
Hermione's eyes widened. "You're thinking about the Muggle world?"
Oliver nodded. "Why not? They have telephones, but not like this. Ours run on magic. No wires, no poles, no waiting weeks for letters across oceans. If we could bridge the gap—not just wizard to wizard, but wizard to Muggle—we could actually make something that unites people. That's what I see when I look at these."
The twins exchanged a look, less mocking than usual. George gave a low whistle. "You don't think small, do you?"
Fred smirked, but it was softer than usual. "One day he's building speakers and guitars, next day he's talking about changing the whole world."
Harry tilted his head. "Do you think the Ministry would even allow that? Magic and Muggles mixing like that?"
Oliver's mouth quirked into a faint grin. "That's the point. They don't have to allow it yet. But if I build it strong enough, useful enough… they won't be able to ignore it forever."
Hermione leaned forward, the firelight catching the determination in her face. "It could change everything. Communication, travel, even safety… if people could contact each other instantly, it would save lives."
"That's what I want," Oliver admitted. "The basic models—the cheap ones—they're for everyone. They should be affordable so families can stay in touch, so no one feels cut off. I don't care if I make a fortune from those. What matters is people having them. But the higher-tier ones—the ones with subscriptions—that's where governments and rich families will pour their gold. And that… that will keep the network alive."
George blinked. "So you're saying the rich will keep paying for their fancy toys, and that'll keep the cheap ones cheap?"
"Exactly," Oliver said. "If they don't want to pay the subscription, I can shut their phones down to the basic range. They'll complain, but they'll come back. Because it won't just be about owning a shiny object—it'll be about staying connected. And no one wants to be left behind."
Fred's grin widened. "Merlin's beard, you're more cunning than a Slytherin and more reckless than a Gryffindor."
Oliver chuckled. "Maybe that's why the Hat couldn't decide."
There was laughter, but also quiet awe. For the first time, his friends weren't just looking at him as a peer—they were looking at him as someone building a future far larger than Hogwarts.
Hermione's voice was hushed. "You really mean to do it. For wizards and Muggles alike."
Oliver nodded, and his grin this time was full of youthful pride and determination. "Why not both worlds? Magic shouldn't just divide us. It should connect us."
For a moment, silence fell, filled only by the faint hum of magic from the newly gifted phones. Nyx fluttered her wings, starlight feathers scattering tiny flickers that glowed before fading. Even the unicorns, watching from the treeline beyond the greenhouse, seemed to lean closer, drawn to the sound of Oliver's voice and the conviction behind it.
Harry finally broke the silence. "You know… you sound a bit like Dumbledore."
Oliver blinked, startled. "Do I?"
Harry smiled faintly. "Yeah. He always talks about choice, about making the world better. You… you actually are doing it."
The words struck Oliver deeper than he expected. For a boy who had spent so long without family, without even hope of one, hearing that kind of trust in his vision was almost overwhelming. But he didn't let tears come this time. He just let the smile linger, humble but fierce.
"Then I suppose I'll have to make sure I don't let any of you down," he said.
The twins raised their phones in mock toast. Hermione clutched hers to her chest. Harry slipped his into his pocket like it was treasure.
And Oliver, for the first time in weeks, felt steady—not just because of what he had built, but because of the people who now carried a piece of it with them.
As they stood to leave for dinner, the whispers in the hall swelled again, louder now, curious, awed, jealous. But Oliver hardly noticed. He had his friends, his vision, and his phoenix.
The rest of the world would come in time.