The echoes of the Sorting Hat's final, weary pronouncements had faded, and the newly sorted students—a blend of exhilaration and terror—found their places at their respective House tables. The massive room had settled into a low, anticipatory hum, broken only by the clinking of cutlery as a few early arrivals began sampling the mysteriously warm food on the new tables.
Dumbledore, looking utterly delighted by the evening's atmosphere of controlled anarchy, rose and tapped his goblet lightly. The resounding DONG instantly commanded silence.
"Attention, dear students, young and old!" Dumbledore announced, his voice carrying clearly to the farthest corners of the Great Hall.
"Before we begin this magnificent feast—which I assure you, will remain perfectly warm regardless of your conversational tempo—I have the great pleasure of introducing the new faces joining our faculty this term."
He paused, his eyes twinkling. "Firstly, we welcome a familiar and highly qualified scholar to an essential, if historically volatile, post: Professor Moses Robert, who joins us to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."
A quiet, earnest-looking wizard with slightly frayed robes and an expression of polite anxiety stood up from the staff table and offered a timid wave to the thousands of students. A scattering of polite, minimal applause met his introduction.
The general student reaction, however, was not directed at the new professor, but was a complex, multi-layered wave of whispered relief that swept through the hall.
"Moses Robert? Good! He's the DADA professor," hissed a fifth-year Hufflepuff, instantly slumping in his seat. "Professor Swann is safe! The curse hasn't claimed the richest man in the world yet!"
"Imagine! For a terrible moment, I thought the Two-Minute Man was going to take the job and disappear by Christmas!" breathed a sentimental Ravenclaw witch. "Thank Merlin, or perhaps Swann Alchemy's risk management team, for sparing him!"
"So, no Quidditch, then?" grumbled a sixth-year Gryffindor, already deflated. "If he's not DADA, he's probably just a Deputy Headmaster. He won't teach anything fun."
Dumbledore, allowing the minimal applause to die down—and no doubt keenly aware of the students' true focus—continued, a wide, beatific smile stretching across his face.
"And secondly," he continued, his voice gaining resonance, "we welcome the wizard who is responsible for the glorious, much-appreciated improvements you see around you, and who has agreed to take on the most fascinating and challenging of academic roles: our new Deputy Headmaster for Curricular and Administrative Transformation, Professor Sebastian Swann!"
The applause for the Deputy Headmaster was immediate and deafening, a roaring wave that dwarfed the previous cheer. Students stood up again, stamping their feet on the stone floor.
"Professor Swann! Professor Swann!" The chants went up instantly.
Sebastian rose to his feet, performing a practiced, modest half-bow that only inflamed the crowd further. The students were now so loud they completely missed Dumbledore's next sentence.
"And, I must add," Dumbledore had to project, raising his hands for quiet, "Professor Swann will also be teaching the Muggle Studies elective this year!"
The response to this final piece of news was not applause, but a moment of profound, baffled silence, followed by an even louder, more confused roar.
"Muggle Studies?" shrieked a third-year. "The richest man in the world is teaching us about rubber bands and toast? I should have signed up a year later! This is a class for third-years! I missed it by one year!"
"It's a trick!" yelled an excited Slytherin. "He's using Muggle Studies as a cover! He's going to secretly teach us Quidditch strategy or Advanced Corporate Takeovers! This is brilliant!"
"Can you teach us the Two-Minute Strategy, Professor?!" shouted Charlie Weasley, forgetting his earlier strategic critique in a moment of sheer fanboyism.
Dumbledore smiled, raising his hands to calm the tempest of celebrity worship and baffled academic planning.
"All in good time, I promise. Now, I believe Professor Swann has kindly agreed to demonstrate the use of some of the new Swann Alchemical amenities before we commence our feast. Please, Sebastian, the stage is yours. I confess, I myself had to spend a rather confusing half-hour with the instruction manual of the new Focus-Spectrum Lamp just this afternoon."
The final comment was met with a low rumble of suppressed laughter from the faculty, and Snape rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly thinking Dumbledore was simply using the moment to publicly acknowledge his own technological ineptitude and Sebastian's superior position.
Sebastian took center stage at the end of the long faculty table, his presence commanding and assured.
"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore, for the generous introduction," Sebastian began, his voice magically amplified to cut through the last whispers. "And thank you, students, for the… enthusiastic reception." He gave a pointed look toward the Gryffindor table.
"In the spirit of continuous improvement, Swann Alchemy is honored to donate a number of specialized Alchemical products to Hogwarts this year," he announced, the statement being met with another wave of cheers. "I sincerely hope they enhance your academic efficiency and, crucially, your quality of life here at the castle."
He pulled his wand and gently tapped the luxurious leather satchel slung over his shoulder.
"I want to quickly familiarize you with the items, as they involve certain calibrations the professors may not be immediately familiar with," he explained, a subtle, charming dig at the entire faculty.
"We wouldn't want you disturbing the sleep of a professor, or indeed, the sleep of your roommates, simply because you couldn't locate the illumination toggle."
With a smooth, silent gesture, a palm-sized object—a miniature, perfectly sculpted four-poster bed—flew gracefully out of the satchel. It wasn't a simple Engorgio charm.
The object didn't merely swell; it snapped to size mid-air, a complex dimensional transposition spell that unfolded the compressed structure in a dazzling display of seamless engineering. The full-sized bed descended silently onto the stone floor with the feather-lightness of a falling leaf.
The students gasped.
"What kind of magic is that?" whispered a confused fifth-year. "That's not a simple shrinking spell! That's complex intra-dimensional storage! You need a Level Seven Alchemist to perform that!"
Sebastian ignored the speculation. He swept his gaze across the hall, seeking a model. His eyes landed on a polite, well-groomed young boy who looked the epitome of respectful curiosity.
"You, my young friend, the distinguished gentleman in the second row," Sebastian indicated. "Would you honor us with a demonstration?"
The boy, startled but flattered, stood up straight, offering a deeply respectful, old-fashioned bow. "My name is Cedric Diggory, Professor. Second-year Hufflepuff. It would be my honor."
Ah, Cedric Diggory, Sebastian thought, a fleeting shadow of melancholy crossing his face. The very model of a decent, honorable wizard. A classic tragic figure. Perfect for a safety demonstration.
Sebastian leaned down and whispered a few quick instructions into Cedric's ear, instructing him on how to use the automated curtains and the internal controls. Cedric nodded, his eyes wide with understanding.
Cedric then climbed into the four-poster, and Sebastian instructed him to seal the thick, heavy curtains, which drew shut with a soft WHOOSH, instantly cloaking the interior in darkness.
The students waited with bated breath. After a moment, Sebastian waved his hand, and Cedric dramatically threw the curtains open, leaping out of the bed with an expression of pure, unadulterated shock and joy.
"Professor! Professor! That's incredible!" Cedric shouted, his voice ringing with excitement. "When I closed the curtains, I couldn't hear a single sound from the hall! It has a perfect Acoustic Dampening Field! And it was completely dark—no light leaked in, even from the new lamps!"
He paused, beaming. "But, just as you showed me, when I touched the Calibrated Luminescence Panel inside, a gentle, adjustable light came on! I could control the brightness perfectly! It's like having a silent, private research library inside a blanket fort!"
The Hall, already reeling from the new furniture, was now utterly overwhelmed by the concept of personalized, luxury dormitories. The idea of privacy and silence in the famously communal environment of the House dorms was revolutionary.
"Soundproof? Soundproof!" yelled a Gryffindor, tears welling up. "I can snore all night and not get hit by a pillow charm from Finnigan! This is a miracle of modern magic!"
"I can finally study past curfew!" cried a Ravenclaw girl, clutching her ancient Transfiguration textbook to her chest. "No more fumbling under the blankets with a Lumos charm that barely works!"
"I can sing my ballads of magical devotion at three in the morning without incurring the wrath of the entire House!" declared a melodramatic fifth-year Hufflepuff.
The students' debate shifted from the logistics of the class to the staggering economics of the gift.
"My father bought a smaller, less advanced version of that bed for our summer villa," whispered a pure-blood witch to her neighbor. "It cost him one hundred and twenty Galleons. And that was on a family discount!"
A hundred and twenty Galleons! The young wizards began frantically multiplying the number by the hundreds of students in the hall. They quickly realized that Sebastian Swann had just gifted the school a collection of items worth hundreds of thousands of Galleons, a financial commitment that utterly dwarfed the annual budget of the school.
Sebastian, observing the satisfying blend of materialistic awe and intellectual shock, felt his work was nearly done. He quickly demonstrated the automated height of the chairs (confirming Percy Weasley's earlier jealousy), the internal warming charm of the new robes (much to the delight of the chilly students), and the self-sorting, label-generating wardrobe charms now installed in every dormitory closet.
The Great Hall fell into a stunned silence as Sebastian concluded his impromptu, high-value product demonstration. He had provided the students with unparalleled luxury and comfort, subtly establishing his own power and efficiency as the new operational standard.
He then extended his wand once more, but this time, he didn't point it at his satchel. He pointed it high toward the ceiling.
With a silent surge of powerful magic, a dense array of shimmering objects shot into the air, initially invisible, but Sebastian added a complex Starlight Glint Charm. The objects caught the light, and for a breathtaking moment, the air was filled with hundreds of tiny, flying jewels, sparkling like a sudden, man-made nebula above their heads.
The objects dispersed, each one coming to rest gently and individually in the palm of every single student in the Hall.
Sebastian dismissed the shimmering effect, allowing the students to finally see the item clearly: a small, perfectly crafted metal badge. The face of the badge bore the central Hogwarts 'H', elegantly surrounded by the four House emblems: the Gryffindor lion, the Slytherin serpent, the Ravenclaw eagle, and the Hufflepuff badger, all interwoven and precisely placed.
Sebastian's voice, now calm and measured, reached every ear in the room.
"Little wizards," he said, his tone shifting from the technical to the personal. "This is a gift from me, to you, individually. A token of my personal investment in your safety and your future here."
He paused, allowing the students to feel the cool, intricate metal in their hands.
"This is your Protective Badge of Shared Virtue." He leaned closer, speaking directly to the new first-years who looked utterly terrified by the evening's events.
"It is not merely a pin," he concluded. "It is a small, specialized Alchemical item. It carries a personalized, low-level Alarm and Self-Preservation Charm. Should you ever be in genuine physical danger, or if you feel deeply, profoundly unsafe, a focused touch will instantly alert a professor and give you a few crucial seconds of automated protection."
Sebastian let the silence hang, allowing the students to absorb the incredible finality of the gift. It was a tangible, expensive piece of personal security, a silent acknowledgment that their time at Hogwarts might not always be safe.
"More importantly," Sebastian added, his eyes sweeping across the badges, "its design is a constant reminder: you are not just a lion, or a snake, or an eagle, or a badger. You are all Hogwarts, and you are all connected. Wear it proudly. Be brave. Be ambitious. Be loyal. Be wise. Be everything."