After a single, brutally short day of mandated recovery, Sebastian's internal taskmaster—the unforgiving voice of the high-stakes businessman—yanked him from the luxurious, sound-dampened cocoon of his bed.
His muscles still protested the marathon of diplomatic travel and the sheer, physical shock of the two-minute World Cup sprint, but his mind was already racing ahead, calculating the next strategic maneuver.
Sebastian, enough of this indulgent languor! he chided himself, splashing cold water on his face in a purely Muggle ritual.
You are the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts now. The lazy life of an unattached millionaire is over. The new broom sweeps clean, and the first wave of momentum is critical.
He had mentally codified his plan for transforming Hogwarts into three phases—three strategic fires he intended to light under the ancient institution.
The First Fire—the External fire—was successfully ignited. The Wizarding Schools Quidditch Cup was now a reality, a non-controversial, high-profile project that immediately justified his international mandate and brought unprecedented commercial revenue to the schools. It was a diplomatic masterpiece, and it had consumed a month of his life.
Now, he needed to light the Second Fire—the Internal fire. This was the masterstroke of securing universal goodwill before attempting the hardest work. His plan was simple: leverage the staggering resources of Swann Alchemy to execute a complete, philanthropic facility renovation of Hogwarts.
This wasn't about adding a few new chairs; it was a total overhaul of the student living and learning environment, positioning the Swann name not as a corporate invader, but as the school's most generous, devoted benefactor.
This is my way of giving back to my alma mater, Sebastian thought, a surge of genuine, if strategically deployed, pride swelling in his chest. I will make the teachers and, more importantly, the students, absolutely adore the new regime.
The Third Fire—the Curriculum and Personnel Reform—was the true challenge. It involved confronting ingrained traditions, challenging the boring lecture styles, overhauling centuries-old course structures, and, most terrifyingly, directly confronting the entrenched habits of his professorial colleagues.
What do you mean, no lesson plan for the theoretical applications of time travel? What do you mean, you've used the same dreary curriculum since the 1890s?
Sebastian immediately slammed the mental door on those restless thoughts. Hey-hey. Too far, Sebastian. You are running far too fast for a newcomer.
He was, after all, a parachuted-in Deputy Headmaster. He had no years of teaching experience, no history of climbing the academic ranks. If he walked into the common room and demanded Professor Flitwick justify his Charm's syllabus, the only appropriate response would be,
"Who, precisely, do you think you are, Mr. Swann? You've been teaching for a total of three days." That kind of premature engagement would instantly trigger a counter-coup, uniting the faculty against him.
A true Slytherin never enters a battlefield unprepared, he reminded himself, pulling on a finely tailored but understated set of forest-green robes.
Patience. First, you create an undeniable, tangible Conviction Buffer of successful, popular results. Then, and only then, do you approach the personnel issues with the necessary political capital to enact change.
The personnel problem could wait. The alchemical donation, however, could not.
Sebastian Apparated directly into the main staging and distribution warehouse of Swann Alchemy, located on the outskirts of London. The structure was immense—a single, magically reinforced, dome-like space capable of housing an entire battalion of Blast-Ended Skrewts.
The sheer scale of the donation hit Sebastian with a fresh wave of proprietary pride. Lining the vast space were thousands of meticulously stacked, identical, and impossibly advanced items. These weren't mere replacements; they were alchemically enhanced upgrades to every facet of student life.
There were stacks upon stacks of Alchemical Magic Beds, each frame finished in a sleek, dark wood that spoke of durability and quality. There were literally tons of Focus-Spectrum Magic Lamps, designed with advanced rune-work to eliminate all flicker and glare, providing a pure, optimized light source.
He saw thousands of ergonomically designed Magical Tables and Chairs—each piece enchanted with subtle posture-correcting charms and a localized noise-dampening field. The sheer logistical and manufacturing effort was breathtaking.
He had commissioned this project before he even accepted the Deputy Headmaster position, operating on the certainty that Dumbledore would not refuse a man with so much to offer.
He'd estimated the preparation would take until mid-August, but the Swann staff, incentivized by his high wages and driven by the pride of being associated with such a visible, high-impact charitable cause, had crushed the deadline.
A crowd of employees—Alchemists, logistics specialists, and charming technicians—were milling around the perimeter, admiring their handiwork.
Sebastian stepped onto a raised loading platform, his voice amplifying with a subtle Sonorus Charm.
"Attention, all Swann personnel!" he announced, his voice ringing with boundless, genuine enthusiasm.
He gestured grandly to the colossal mounds of furniture. "Look at this! This is not just inventory; this is the physical manifestation of our commitment to the future of the Wizarding World! I never expected this volume of flawless alchemical goods to be prepared in such a compressed timeframe. I am profoundly impressed!"
He paused, letting the emotion swell. "The dedication, the long hours, the precision that went into producing these items—which will now be used by the young witches and wizards of Hogwarts—is a testament to your brilliance! The people of Swann Alchemy are truly the best in the world!"
He took a theatrical breath, preparing for the part he knew would generate the maximum morale boost.
"Therefore, to every single individual who contributed to the refining, enchanting, logistics, and assembly of this monumental donation: I hereby declare that your salary for the last month shall be immediately doubled!"
The reaction was immediate, explosive, and wonderfully chaotic. A cheer went up that rattled the enchanted ceiling panels. Employees high-fived, hugged, and broke into spontaneous, joyous jigs.
"By Merlin's beard! How generous is the Boss!" shouted one Alchemist, performing a rather clumsy Aguamenti Charm into the air to celebrate.
"That's just the bonus! Did you hear what he said? These goods are being donated! Do the maths—the total value of this is enough to buy a dozen Quidditch teams!" another yelled excitedly.
"What? Free? To Hogwarts? I can't believe it! These new magic beds are more comfortable than the ones I have at home!"
"Blast it all! I just graduated last year! I'm going to miss out on the silent-dome, anti-snoring beds!" lamented a young technician.
Then, a bold, slightly hysterical female voice cut through the clamor: "Boss! I want to have your children!"
Sebastian froze momentarily, a genuine blush rising on his cheeks—an unexpected, deeply satisfying comedic element he couldn't have planned. He fought a losing battle to maintain his composure.
He wanted nothing more than to place his hands triumphantly on his hips, throw his head back, and let loose a powerful, resonating Slytherin laugh that echoed his immense pride and financial brilliance. He had secured a priceless political victory and simultaneously galvanized his entire workforce into maniacal loyalty.
He suppressed the urge, replacing it with a measured, dignified grin. "Thank you, everyone! Now, back to work! There are still countless other products that need refining! Let's show the world what Swann can do!"
He retrieved a large, flexible, magically seamless box he had prepared—an item enchanted with powerful dimensional charms, capable of holding the entirety of a seven-story building's contents with ease. He supervised the rapid, efficient packing of the first wave of samples into the box, nodded his final farewells, and Apparated away.
Sebastian rematerialized just outside the wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts. The school was an oasis of eerie calm, its stone walls baking silently under the late summer sun. The only inhabitants, he knew, were Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout.
Sprout, a true horticulturalist, was tethered to the endless demands of her magical plants, and McGonagall, the tireless administrator, was already drowning in the pre-term paperwork.
The poor Cat Professor, Sebastian thought with affectionate sympathy. Dumbledore treats her less like a Deputy and more like a high-powered Alchemical item to be perpetually deployed for maximum administrative efficiency. Time to give the old girl a break and a massive boost to her morale.
He cast his Patronus—a proud, emerald-scaled Basilisk, which was purely for shock factor and personal amusement—and sent a curt, polite message to McGonagall asking her to meet him in the Great Hall, promising a "necessary administrative discussion."
Entering the cavernous, silent Great Hall felt strange without the noise of a thousand chattering students. Sebastian located a quiet corner, set down his magical box, and with a sweep of his wand and a controlled, powerful Reverso charm, unloaded a selection of the alchemical items, arranging them like an extremely fancy, high-end furniture showroom display.
Shortly thereafter, Professor McGonagall strode in, her face set in the familiar, efficient expression of a witch interrupted mid-task. She paused abruptly, her gaze sweeping over the polished, futuristic furniture.
"Sebastian," she began, her voice a mixture of confusion and cautious curiosity. "What in the name of Merlin's underpants are these… artifacts?"
Sebastian puffed out his chest, stepping forward to begin his sales pitch—a performance polished over years of addressing demanding investors.
"Professor, I have always considered Hogwarts my second, and perhaps most important, home. As the new Deputy Headmaster, I have concluded that true academic excellence must begin with optimal student wellness. These are not just artifacts; they are the foundation of a modern pedagogical environment. I have personally donated these alchemical items to the school."
Before she could form a protest, Sebastian excitedly seized her arm and steered her toward the nearest bed.
"Look at the Alchemical Magic Bed! The true brilliance is the Noise-Cancelling Sleep Dome! With a simple flick of the curtain, the bed generates a perfect, personal silence field. Young wizards will no longer suffer the crushing trauma of a snoring roommate, guaranteeing them sufficient, quality, and uninterrupted sleep. Sufficient and high-quality sleep is the first, non-negotiable guarantee of sustained cognitive function and learning!"
He then swiftly moved her to the next display, gesturing to the lamp.
"The Focus-Spectrum Magic Lamp! Professor, the magical world has tragically failed to solve the growing problem of magical-induced myopia. We cannot afford to neglect our children's eyesight! This lamp emits a pure, full-spectrum magical light, calibrated to maximize visual clarity and minimize eye strain—perfect for late-night revision in the Library or the Common Room. We may be short on Galleons, but we must never be short on eye health and educational resources!"
He continued, pitching the chairs and tables, detailing their posture-correcting charms and stain-repellent surfaces, weaving every feature into a justification for improved academic focus and well-being. He sounded less like a professor and more like a brilliant, evangelical corporate head of operations.
Finally, he rested his hand proudly on the magical box.
"Professor, this donation is comprehensive. Every single student dorm room can be fully refitted. Furthermore, I have instructed my Alchemists to prepare an 'Ultimate Professorial Edition' of each item for every single faculty member—beds with customized sleep-cycle adjustments, lamps with integrated translation charms, and desks with self-organizing capabilities. The faculty work tirelessly; they deserve the absolute best."
He concluded with a humble, almost shy expression. "Now, the final step. It would be inappropriate for the school to take on the logistics and installation of the Swann products. So, I've decided to handle all the renovations and refitting myself. I will work through the summer and have everything ready before term starts."
Sebastian finally fell silent, expecting a polite, slightly weary acceptance from McGonagall.
Instead, Professor McGonagall's face, which had been slowly shifting from bewildered to intrigued, finally blossomed into a magnificent, radiant smile. She rubbed her hands together briskly, her emerald eyes positively sparkling with delight.
"Sebastian, my dear boy, I have loathed those dreadful, creaking, unmagical beds, and those splintering desks in the dungeons for nearly forty years!" she declared, her usual strict formality dissolving into pure, undisguised glee. "The snoring problem alone has caused half the feuds in the Gryffindor dormitories!"
She then straightened, the efficient administrator instantly resurfacing. "This is a monumental gift, and I thank you. But you absolutely will not handle the installation yourself! You have just spent a month creating a global Quidditch tournament and then flying for the World Cup—you are exhausted, and you need to save your energy for your new teaching duties."
She turned, her movements suddenly light and energized, like a witch twenty years younger. "I will immediately write to the entire faculty! The staff is perfectly capable of handling this refitting. We will treat this as a school-wide faculty-bonding exercise! It will be a perfect opportunity to prepare the castle!"
She didn't wait for a response, already halfway to the door, her steps quick and decisive. She paused only to call back over her shoulder, her voice filled with a conspiratorial excitement:
"Go home, Sebastian. Rest. I'm going to make sure the History of Magic Professor is the first to start assembling his new desk! I can't wait to see the look on some of their faces!"
Sebastian stood alone in the Great Hall, surrounded by his pristine, silent inventory. He watched the Head of Gryffindor House practically skip away, her mind already buzzing with deployment logistics and the sweet thought of delegating physical labor to her colleagues.
The victory was far sweeter than he'd imagined. He hadn't just secured the goodwill of his immediate superior; he had been relieved of the labor and granted the spectacle of his donation's installation, all without having to lift a finger.
The Second Fire is now burning brightly, Sebastian thought, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face. And Professor McGonagall has kindly offered to act as my chief fire-starter and inventory manager. Perfect.