The morning after the revolutionary field trip, Sebastian Swann arrived in his Deputy Headmaster's office at precisely 9:15 AM. His entrance was not the dramatic theatricality usually afforded a Hogwarts Professor; rather, it was a practical matter of traversing the Floo Network from the luxurious comfort of his London home.
He was leisurely reviewing the architectural plans for the next Swann Alchemy production facility—a fascinating problem in advanced spatial warping—when the door to his office slammed open with a violence that made the crystal chandelier rattle.
Severus Snape stood in the doorway, his robes billowing like an angry thundercloud and his expression a chilling synthesis of exhaustion and pure, unadulterated contempt.
"Must you make a point of your absenteeism, Swann?" Snape hissed, advancing into the room like a snake contemplating a poorly-defended field mouse. "The students required the intervention of a faculty member last night, yet the illustrious Deputy Headmaster was nowhere to be found."
Sebastian, who had already settled back into his plush, magically-heated chair, steepled his fingers beneath his chin and adopted a look of smug, contented superiority.
"Ah, Severus. You forget the simple, inconvenient fact of my marriage," Sebastian purred, his voice dripping with relaxed pleasure. "You reside here because, well, it is... convenient for a man of your solitary disposition. I, however, have a wife. A wife who prefers the scent of fine jasmine and clean air over the permanent aroma of burnt sulfur and damp castle stone."
He gave a small, theatrical sigh. "I took the very pragmatic precaution of asking Professor McGonagall to link my office fireplace to the Floo Network—a minor magical administrative chore. It is hardly my fault if my desire for marital bliss inconveniences your beauty sleep. Would you deny a man the simple pleasure of having his perfectly charming wife sleep on his lap after a grueling day of teaching?"
Snape's lips curled, his face momentarily twisting into a mask of acute physical pain. Sebastian's blatant domestic happiness was a far greater torture than any dark curse.
Snape straightened, regaining his cold composure. "The issue, Swann, is not the proximity of your wife to your lap. The issue is the nature of the infestation you have unleashed upon this castle. Last evening, after the curfew bells rang, a steady stream of unruly young Slytherins descended upon your office, seeking 'enrollment forms' for your tawdry little elective."
Snape spat the words out as if they were venom. "When they were unable to locate their esteemed new professor, they, in their youthful lack of discretion, decided to wake the poor, dutiful Potions Master from his well-deserved repose. They were, I believe, seeking guidance on the 'Thermodynamics of Carbonated Beverages'."
Snape concluded, his black gaze icy. "I suggest this famous professor learns to manage the chaos his own frivolous methods create, and perhaps, for the sake of the sanity of the ordinary faculty, he should sleep where he works." With a final, dramatic flourish of his heavy robes, Snape executed a sharp turn and strode out, leaving the subtle scent of stale potions and profound irritation hanging in the air.
Sebastian watched the door swing shut, his smugness momentarily replaced by genuine surprise.
Slytherins? Waking Snape? To enroll in a class? That was not the behavior of cunning, reserved young snakes; that was the brazen, loud-mouthed impulse of a Gryffindor stampede!
Sebastian had clearly, drastically, underestimated the intoxicating power of his teaching methods.
The truth, as Sebastian soon realized, lay in the sheer, unprecedented spectacle of the previous night.
Charlie and Percy Weasley, upon returning to the Gryffindor tower, had been instantly surrounded. Everyone had questions about where the mass of wizards had vanished to for an entire afternoon. The answers, filtered through the hyper-enthusiastic lens of two competing brothers, had become an instant academic legend.
The Charlie Weasley version: "We drove a giant lavender chariot faster than a Firebolt! It's all about dampening charms and pure velocity! And I nearly beat Flint in a non-magical race! The Professor bought us dinner! Real Muggle food! Fried chicken!"
The Marcus Flint version (as recounted in the Slytherin common room): "Swann has a private, massive warehouse filled with Muggle weapons of power. We played a war simulation game where you get to command a soldier and destroy the enemy base! He literally told us to break the expensive machinery! And I made an alliance with a Hufflepuff to maximize our fire-power! He's not a professor, he's a general!"
The Percy Weasley version (less exciting, but equally potent): "It was an utterly brilliant, high-yield pedagogical field study. We learned the difference between Nuclear Fission and Fire Elementals, and the Professor provided a structured, real-world comparative analysis against Ministry syllabus requirements. Furthermore, the Muggle-born students provided invaluable expertise in the Axiom of the Burger."
The combination of these reports—The Field Trip, The Video Games, The Free Food—created an academic gold rush.
Muggle Studies was no longer the soft, easily mocked option; it was the only class that offered escape, adrenaline, cultural relevance, and the promise of free, delicious, high-fat food. The fear of being left out of the next adventure was a powerful motivator, overriding all house rivalries and academic caution.
When Sebastian finally made his way to the Great Hall for the midday meal, he walked into a pre-planned ambush. Before he could reach the High Table, he was utterly enveloped by a seething, excited mass of students from every House and every year—a human tidal wave that threatened to capsize the Deputy Headmaster entirely.
He felt like a lighthouse in a storm, his view obscured by a churning sea of shouting heads.
"Professor! I need the enrollment parchment! Please sign me up immediately!"
"My father, a very prominent Ministry official, thinks this course is essential! Do not deny my family the cutting-edge education we deserve!" a Ravenclaw shrieked, clearly fabricating a story about her father's interest in Muggle infrastructure.
"Teacher! I really love… learning! Please accept the souls who desperately crave extracurricular excursions!"
Sebastian, having anticipated a crowd but not a physical assault, struggled to raise his voice above the din. He finally managed to cast a subtle, but highly targeted, Sonorus Charm focused only on his own larynx.
"Silence!" he boomed, the amplified word cutting through the room's noise like a clean blade.
The students instantly quieted, all eyes fixed on the man who controlled the next field trip.
Sebastian steadied himself. "Don't panic! I am delighted by your... sudden, profound appreciation for Muggle culture. Thanks to Professor Snape's earlier intervention, I was prepared for this influx of academic zeal."
He then laid out the rules of engagement, his plan a perfectly executed blend of accessibility and exclusionary tactics.
"Any Third-Year wizard who was previously undecided may now enroll. Consider this your final window. You will submit your analytical assignment two weeks from today, along with the rest of your new classmates. We can collectively process the paperwork at the next consolidated session."
A roar of approval went up from the third-year crowd. But a newly enrolled Ravenclaw immediately voiced the crucial problem.
"But Professor, we missed the field study! We haven't seen the high-speed coach or the fission reactor! How can we possibly complete the homework assignment on Comparative Advantage?"
Sebastian smiled, showcasing his capacity for pragmatic adaptation.
"An excellent, logical query. For all newly enrolled pure-bloods, I will make a necessary, academic modification. You have not seen the warehouse, but you have all, at one time or another, travelled through King's Cross Station to reach Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."
"Your modified homework, therefore, will be based solely on the area surrounding the Muggle King's Cross Station. Your task is to apply your theoretical knowledge to that setting: Analyze the five most complex Muggle technologies you can observe within one hundred yards of the platform entrance. Compare their function to an equivalent magical item. The complexity of the assignment remains the same; only the location of the observation has changed."
The newly enrolled students—Muggle-borns could use their memories, while Pure-bloods could easily recall the chaotic London hub—nodded in determined, if slightly bewildered, consensus.
Sebastian thought the crisis was averted, but then the true source of chaos emerged from the crowd: the inseparable, ginger-haired menace, Fred and George Weasley, still too young to enroll.
"Professor, that's not fair!" Fred shouted, clutching his younger brother's arm. "We're only Second Years, but we already grasp the basic principles of Muggle-to-Magical Transference! You cannot exclude the most enthusiastic, forward-thinking learners just because of an arbitrary age limit!"
"Exactly!" George interjected, weaving in his political angle. "The demand is clearly there, Professor. If Muggle Studies is so crucial for modern wizarding development—which your excellent field trip proved—then why not save us all the hassle? Why not simply speak to Headmaster Dumbledore and make your class a mandatory core subject for all years?"
The suggestion was brilliant, chaotic, and instantly adopted by the surrounding Second and First Years, who began chanting the new, unified slogan with alarming fervor: "Muggle Studies Compulsory! Muggle Studies Now!"
Sebastian, now genuinely dizzy from the noise and the sheer number of small, persistent bodies demanding access, realized this was an existential threat to his quiet administration. He needed a scapegoat—a higher authority with unbreakable resolve.
He pointed a finger directly at the chanting twin in front of him. "Fred and George Weasley, your academic enthusiasm is noted, but your political maneuvering is highly suspect. You are attempting to subject hundreds of unwilling students to the rigors of an elective."
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "How about this? I cannot alter the mandatory curriculum. That is the realm of the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall. If you can convince Professor McGonagall to grant a formal, written exception for Second and First Years to audit the Third Year's Muggle Studies class—allowing you to be seated in her presence—I will gladly accept you."
The chanting instantly died down. The entire cohort of younger students looked at the mention of Professor McGonagall's name with a shared, existential dread. She was the immovable object; the ultimate authority on rules and scholastic structure.
Fred muttered under his breath as the younger contingent began to reluctantly disperse. "That was truly cruel, Professor Swann. He knows we'd rather face a Mountain Troll than present an unscheduled, curriculum-altering proposal to McGonagall."
"The blame must lie somewhere," George sighed dramatically.
"If it weren't for Percy and Charlie detailing the absolute, mouth-watering superiority of the Colonel's Secret Herbs and Spices and the kinetic excitement of the racing games, none of this would have happened. Come on, Fred. We need to go find our older brothers. They are the root cause of our academic oppression." With a final, determined glance at Sebastian, the two Weasley masterminds led their disgruntled army away, presumably to extract payment from their older siblings.
As the Great Hall slowly returned to its normal, pre-lunch buzz, Sebastian finally felt the pressure ease. He walked toward the High Table, where Professor Flitwick was observing the entire spectacle with an expression of delighted awe.
Flitwick, the diminutive Charms Master, skipped over to Sebastian and clapped him heartily on the shoulder—a gesture that nearly sent Sebastian flying.
"Sebastian! My dear boy! You are a sensation! I haven't seen this level of enthusiasm for a non-core subject since the introduction of Advanced Broomstick Theory!" Flitwick exclaimed, his voice high and chirpy. "And look! Look at the results of your educational rebellion!"
Flitwick pointed with a trembling finger toward the Slytherin table. Marcus Flint—the hulking, Pure-blood conservative—was sitting next to a tiny Hufflepuff, animatedly drawing diagrams of what looked like game controller button layouts on a piece of parchment. They were still deeply, cooperatively engaged in their arcade tactics.
"The Slytherin Quidditch Captain is not only conversing with a Hufflepuff, but a Muggle-born Hufflepuff!" Flitwick whispered, his eyes moist with sentiment.
"We have been trying for decades, through mandatory House-Mixing programs and inter-House Quidditch, to foster this kind of unity. Yet, a high-speed bus trip and a video game achieve what years of academic effort could not!"
Flitwick gripped Sebastian's arm, relief and excitement flooding his face. "Your commitment to breaking down these archaic social and academic barriers is already bearing magnificent fruit, Sebastian. The students aren't just learning Muggle facts; they are learning cooperation and respect for non-magical expertise. If you ever need assistance with any aspect of the Muggle Studies curriculum—field chaperoning, equipment repairs, or even assistance with your new, massive grading load—do not hesitate to call on me!"
Sebastian looked from the sincere, earnest face of Flitwick to the oblivious, collaborative sight of Marcus Flint and the Hufflepuff gamer. He realized his original intent—making a lot of money and solving a personal problem—had accidentally triggered a social revolution in the school.
The chaos, the angry Snape, the absurd workload, and the impending battle with McGonagall were all justified. The pure, unfiltered joy of the students and the collapse of the social hierarchy were the true metrics of his success.
The new assignment load for Sebastian is massive, but the enthusiastic enrollment suggests the future of Muggle Studies is bright. Now that the other professors are aware of the field trips, do you think they will pressure Sebastian to include elements of their own subjects (like Charms or Transfiguration) in his next field study?