Mia's chopsticks paused mid-air, a piece of kung pao chicken falling back into her bowl. She stared at Sebastian, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and sudden, chilling realization.
"Sebastian, I really don't follow," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're talking about Hogwarts like it's a sieve. Explain it to me—where is this loophole? I've lived in this castle, I've studied its history, and I've always thought of it as the safest place in the world."
Sebastian offered her a small, sympathetic smile. "Safe? Yes, against a frontal assault. If an army of Dark Wizards showed up at the front gates, the stone itself would rise up to crush them. But that's the problem with 'trustworthy' ancient magic, Mia. It's built on old assumptions."
He leaned forward, tapping his finger on the mahogany table. "Didn't you notice how Jeff arrived today? He isn't a Hogwarts staff member. He doesn't draw a salary from the Headmaster. Yet, he bypassed the perimeter, the anti-apparition wards, and the sentinel charms as if they didn't exist."
Mia blinked, the weight of his words finally sinking in. As a pureblood witch raised in the upper echelons of wizarding society, house-elves were simply part of the background noise of life. They were like the air you breathed—always there, always serving, and never questioned. To her, Jeff appearing was just... Jeff.
But as Sebastian laid it out, her face began to drain of color. "Oh, Merlin," she breathed. "You're right. Their magic... it's different. It's older."
"Exactly," Sebastian said, his tone turning clinical. "A house-elf doesn't use a wand. They don't follow the same laws of physics or metaphysics that we do. Most adult wizards, if caught off-guard, would be incapacitated by a house-elf before they could even utter a shield charm. And Hogwarts? Hogwarts is a castle full of children."
Mia pushed her bowl aside, her appetite completely gone. The mapo tofu now looked like nothing more than cold wax. Her thoughts immediately flew to Harry.
"Sebastian," she said, her voice trembling with a sudden surge of protectiveness. "You said last year that the... the 'One Who Must Not Be Named' has returned in some form. He was in the castle. He was after Harry."
She stood up, pacing the small confines of the office. "If he contacts the families who still remain loyal to him—the remnants of the Death Eaters—they all have house-elves. What if they send one? What if they tell an elf to kidnap Harry from his bed, or worse? An elf could walk into Gryffindor Tower, do the deed, and be gone before the Fat Lady could even scream."
The image was terrifyingly plausible. House-elves were bound to obey. If a master ordered a murder, the elf might weep, but they would do it. And in a school where they were invisible, they were the perfect assassins.
Sebastian stood up, moving around the table to catch Mia's hands. He squeezed them gently, pulling her back toward the chair he had conjured for himself.
"Listen to me, Mia," he said, his voice a calm anchor in her storm of panic. "Breathe. You're right to be worried about the loophole, but you're wrong about the timing. Voldemort—yes, use the name—is in a pathetic state. He's a wraith, a shadow of a shadow. And if there's one thing he hates more than anything, it's relying on others. He's arrogant, Mia. He trusts no one."
He sat her down, skillfully using his chopsticks to place a fresh piece of chicken in her bowl. "The few people he truly trusted are currently rotting in Azkaban. He won't reach out to the Death Eaters who remained 'free' because he views them as cowards who abandoned him. For now, he's hiding. He's not organizing kidnappings via house-elves."
"But the families themselves?" Mia argued. "The Malfoys, the Notts... they don't need an order from him to be dangerous."
"Arrogance is our best shield there," Sebastian said with a confident grin. "Those 'pureblood' families treat their elves like furniture. They beat them, they scold them, and they treat them like dirt. To people like Lucius Malfoy, a house-elf is a tool for cleaning floors, not a strategic asset for a high-stakes assassination. They are too stuck-up to realize just how powerful their servants actually are. They wouldn't even think of using an elf for something as complex as infiltrating Hogwarts."
Mia's shoulders slumped as the tension slowly bled out of her. She took a shaky sip of her cola, the sweet, carbonated bite helping to ground her. "You're sure?"
"I'm sure," Sebastian said, patting her hand. "But just because they haven't thought of it doesn't mean I'm going to leave the door unlocked. Now that I've identified the gap, I'm going to seal it."
Mia looked at him suspiciously. Sebastian always had a plan, and his plans usually involved three layers of mystery and a lot of work. "And how exactly are you going to do that? You can't just re-ward the whole castle without Dumbledore noticing."
Sebastian leaned back, a mysterious, playful smirk dancing on his lips. He took a long, dramatic swig of his cola, enjoying her curiosity. "Well, since we're family, I suppose I can give you a little 'exclusive' information."
Mia leaned in, her eyes narrowing. "Go on then, show off."
"Next week," Sebastian began, ticking fingers off in the air, "I'm officially launching the Hogwarts Alchemy Club. I'm recruiting a handful of the brightest, most capable students—Harry and Miss Granger included, obviously. They'll be the first-phase trainees."
"And?"
"And I'm going to lead them in a 'Grand Project' that will take the entire school year to complete. This project has two very specific goals. First, we are going to build a secondary defensive layer for the castle—one that doesn't rely on ancient stone, but on modern runic detection. It will track anything that moves within these walls, regardless of its magical origin. No more 'invisible' house-elves."
Mia smiled, beginning to see the brilliance of it. "And the second goal?"
"The second goal," Sebastian laughed, "is that by the time we're finished, those students will have a level of practical alchemical skill that most Ministry experts would envy. I'm training my future workforce, Mia. If they're good enough to secure Hogwarts, they're good enough to join Swann Alchemy after they graduate."
"I knew it!" Mia teased, pointing a finger at him. "It's always about recruitment with you. You're just using the school's security as an excuse for an internship program."
"It's called 'synergy,' my dear," Sebastian laughed, and the tension in the room vanished entirely. The rest of their lunch was a chorus of laughter and the clinking of porcelain, a rare moment of peace before the storm of the school year truly took hold.
The first week of term evaporated in a whirlwind of classes and grading. Sebastian found himself busy—Muggle Studies was proving to be a hit with the third years, mostly because he had brought in a 'Typewriter' and was letting them take turns trying to figure out how to 'delete' a mistake without magic.
By Friday afternoon, Sebastian was looking forward to a quiet weekend. But magic, as it often did, had other plans.
He was sitting in his office when a small, iridescent blue bird—a messenger of the Centaurs—fluttered through his window and landed on his desk. It chirped a rhythmic melody and then dissolved into a shimmering piece of parchment.
Dear Professor Swann,
The stars are hidden today, but the forest floors are busy. We have found a Hogwarts Little Wizard wandering deep within our borders. Judging by her height and the lack of mud on her boots, she is a newly admitted first-year. She is currently heading directly toward the Thestral nesting grounds.
Per our agreement of mutual respect, we notify you so that you may retrieve her before the shadows grow long. The forest is not kind to the lost.
Note: The vintage fruit wine you sent was exceptional. The herd would be honored if you could send more with your next patrol. We have gathered several rare herbs from the deep valleys to trade in return.
Sebastian sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "First week. Only the first week and someone is already ignoring Dumbledore's 'Forbidden' warning."
He stood up, grabbing his coat. A first-year girl, wandering alone, headed toward the Thestrals. In his mind, three points connected into a very specific shape. The Thestrals were only visible to those who had seen death. A young, newly admitted girl who felt a pull toward those skeletal, misunderstood creatures...
"