"Shoes?"
Luna didn't look down with any sense of urgency. She merely tilted her head, her gaze drifting toward the uneven forest floor as if she were observing the migration patterns of ants rather than her own mismatched feet.
"I think," she began, her voice carrying that characteristic airy quality that made it sound like she was speaking from the middle of a pleasant dream, "that after arriving at Hogwarts, my shoes might have been influenced by the ambient magic of the castle. They seem to have developed their own little minds."
Sebastian didn't say anything, but his jaw tightened. He knew exactly what kind of 'magic' was at work here, and it didn't involve sentient footwear.
"These past two days," Luna continued, her expression serene, "my shoes have started to enjoy playing hide-and-seek with me. It's quite a clever game, really. One moment they're under my bed, and the next, they've vanished entirely. But it's okay. I believe that if I can't find them by dinner, they'll simply decide the game is over and appear on their own by nightfall. Most things that get lost come back eventually."
Hearing this, a hot, sharp wave of fury surged through Sebastian.
Heck! He had spent years dealing with dark wizards, cunning alchemists, and dangerous artifacts, but there was something about the casual, unthinking cruelty of children that made his blood boil more than a cursed locket ever could.
Logically, students sorted into Ravenclaw were supposed to be the pinnacle of diligence, wisdom, and the love of learning. They were the 'smart' ones. But as Sebastian looked at the small, shoeless girl beside him, he was reminded of a bitter truth he had learned in the outside world: high intelligence is no guarantee of a high moral compass.
It seemed that Ravenclaw's towers weren't just filtering for academic brilliance; they were also housing a fair share of academic scumbags. Just because Luna was 'different'—because she saw the world through a lens of wonder rather than cynicism—they had decided she was a target.
It was fortunate, Sebastian realized, that Luna had grown up in a house filled with such profound, unconditional love. Xenophilius might be eccentric, but he had given his daughter a big heart and an even bigger spirit. She possessed a natural mental fortress; she simply didn't store the things she didn't care about. If a girl with a more sensitive or insecure temperament had been subjected to this, she'd be crying in a bathroom stall, feeling the weight of every sneer.
In the original timeline, Luna rarely ever showed anger. Unless her cherished father was threatened or her friends were in genuine peril, she treated the world with a patient, almost saint-like kindness. But Sebastian wasn't a saint. He was a man who believed in consequences.
Just first-year students, he thought, his eyes narrowing as they approached the castle gates. Barely a week in and they've already learned the 'joy' of bullying. If Luna doesn't resist, they'll only get more brazen. They think they're being clever. I think they need to spend a few hundred hours reciting the school's code of conduct until their tongues feel like parchment.
As Sebastian was mentally drafting a detention schedule that would make Filch weep with joy, Luna spoke up again, her voice snapping him out of his dark thoughts.
"Professor Swann, you should be careful. There are a great many Wrackspurts around you right now."
"Wrackspurts?"
Sebastian stopped walking. The term was unfamiliar, sounding more like a brand of Muggle cereal than a magical entity. He subconsciously repeated it, looking around the empty stone corridor.
"Yes, Wrackspurts." Luna offered him a gentle, sympathetic smile. "They're invisible, tiny little flies that enjoy floating into a person's ears. Once they're inside, they start to make your brain go all muddled and fuzzy. Usually, they're attracted to people who are thinking very hard about things that make them grumpy."
She paused, watching him with those wide, misty eyes. "I told my roommates about them this morning when I was looking for my shoes, but they didn't believe me. They said I was imagining things. But I can see them quite clearly. Just like right now—Professor, there are dozens of them circling your head. They seem very excited."
She tilted her head. "Can you see them, Professor? Or is your brain already too muddled?"
Sebastian couldn't help but smile. The fury he had felt just moments ago began to dissipate, replaced by a profound sense of intrigue. "Unfortunately, Luna, I think I lack the 'eyes' to see these particular insects."
"Oh, I see." Luna's face fell, a look of genuine regret crossing her features. "I thought perhaps the Professors at Hogwarts were taught how to see them. It must be very difficult to teach lessons when your ears are full of invisible flies."
She patted the air near his shoulder, as if shooing away a fly. "But it's okay. I know they're real. People deny things all the time just because they can't see them. But look at the Thestrals—they're real, even if most of the school thinks the carriages move by themselves."
She looked down at the Thestral foal she had been petting earlier in the glade. "When I first arrived here, some of the older Thestrals had Wrackspurts all around their heads. They looked very sad and slow. But after I sang them my song, the Wrackspurts all flew away. They're much happier now."
Luna looked up at Sebastian, her expression filled with a sudden, daughter-like concern that made Sebastian's heart melt. Heck, Xenophilius is a lucky man. This child is a treasure.
"Professor," Luna said softly, "Since you can't see them, let me help you drive them away. I can sing for you. My mother used to say that a good song is like a window—it lets the light in and blows the dust out. I think it would help your muddled brain."
Sebastian felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. He felt like an old father being looked after by a thoughtful daughter. "Is that so? You're willing to use your voice to help me, even though I've done nothing but walk you back to the castle?"
"Mm-hmm!" Luna nodded vigorously. "And Professor? I think you should just call me Luna. You've been very patient with me. You didn't laugh when I talked about the Snorkacks, and you didn't look annoyed even once. I think that means we're friends. And friends shouldn't let friends walk around with muddled brains."
"Haha!" Sebastian grinned, his eyes narrowing into happy slits. "Thank you, Luna. That is incredibly kind. But you know, your Professor is actually quite capable. Perhaps I can try to drive them away myself."
He pulled out his wand, but he didn't point it at an enemy. He pointed it at his own temple.
"Obliviate!"
It was a delicate, specialized version of the memory charm—not meant to erase a life, but to momentarily flush the immediate, stinging anger from his mind. In an instant, the dark thoughts of punishing the Ravenclaws cleared, and his whole being felt light and joyful.
He waved his wand again, his voice clear and resonant. "Benevolence Flow!"
As the incantation fell, a shimmering, golden ripple of energy—almost like a liquid stream of sunlight—flowed from his wand toward the edges of the forest they had just left. The Thestrals that had followed them to the treeline responded immediately. Two of the large stallions trotted forward, rubbing their bony heads against Sebastian's arm and emitting gentle, vibrato whinnies of affection.
Luna's eyes widened until they looked like twin jewels. "Oh! How amazing! The Wrackspurts... they're really gone! They just vanished into the light!"
She looked at him with pure, unadulterated awe. "Professor Swann, how did you do that? I've never seen magic that tastes like that before."
Sebastian looked at the 'unpolished gem' before him and felt a surge of professional excitement.
The secret was simple. These 'Wrackspurts' Luna saw weren't insects. They were the physical manifestation of negative emotions—worries, sorrows, and anger that people unconsciously radiated. Luna's magical talent was so high, her sensitivity so acute, that her mind materialized these abstract energies into something she could understand.
Her father, in his desperate attempt to keep her happy after Pandora's death, had likely encouraged these 'creature' explanations, leading Luna to view the world as a vibrant ecosystem of invisible beings.
But what did this mean for her future? It meant that Luna was the natural, perfect heir to the Emotion Magic left behind by Rowena Ravenclaw herself.
In the archives Sebastian had studied, the threshold for Emotion Magic was famously high. Most wizards were too grounded, too 'muddled' by their own logic to ever perceive the raw essence of a feeling. But for Luna, that threshold didn't exist. She was already living in that world.
"Luna," Sebastian said gently, stepping closer. "Have you ever considered that maybe these aren't insects at all? You are a very special child. You have a talent that most adult wizards would kill for. Because of your unique mind, you can see the echoes of what people are feeling—their worries, their sadness—right there in the air."
"Is that so?" Luna looked confused, her red sneaker scuffing against the stone. "But... if they aren't insects, then why do they fly away when I sing? And why do they make people so grumpy?"
"Think of it this way," Sebastian said, his voice patient. "Perhaps it's because your song is filled with so much happiness that the sadness simply has nowhere to stay. You aren't just driving away bugs; you're healing the air."
Luna pondered this for a long moment, her brow furrowed. "But... isn't it possible that the bugs cause the sadness? If they fly into your ears, they must be the reason for the muddle, right?"
Sebastian smiled. Her logic was airtight in its own way. He decided to pivot.
"Let's make a deal," he said. "We'll keep calling them Wrackspurts if you like. But I have a very special, very secret type of magic that can help you dispel those 'bugs' even faster. It can help you protect your friends, and even those lovely Thestrals, from ever feeling muddled again. Would you like to learn it?"
Luna's eyes lit up. The idea of being able to help others, to clear the 'flies' from the heads of everyone she met, was clearly the most exciting thing she had heard all week. She nodded firmly, the Dirigible Plums swinging wildly.
"I want to learn! Professor, please teach me."
Sebastian reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then I will teach you. But remember, Luna—this magic doesn't come from a book. It comes from right here." He tapped her chest. "And I have a feeling you have more of it than anyone I've ever met."
As they walked into the Great Hall together—one professor and one little girl with mismatched shoes—Sebastian knew that his first recruit for the year wasn't going to be an Alchemist. She was going to be something much more rare.
He was going to train a Master of Emotions. And the 'Nargles' of Ravenclaw? They had no idea what was coming for them.
"Professor?" Luna asked as they reached the Ravenclaw table.
"Yes, Luna?"
"Since we're friends now, does that mean I can visit your office even if I don't have a muddled brain?"
Sebastian laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "Luna, you are welcome in my office anytime. Especially if you want to talk about Snorkacks. I hear they're quite fond of chocolate biscuits."
"I'll bring the tea," she whispered, skipping toward her seat, her red sneaker flashing in the candlelight.
Sebastian watched her go, a determined look in his eyes. He had a disciple. And he was going to make sure the world learned to see exactly what Luna Lovegood saw.