With Professor Severus Snape reluctantly conscripted as a highly compensated, deep-cover intelligence asset—paid for in pharmaceutical-grade dragon scale and crystallized phoenix tears—Sebastian Swann finally felt the matter of the wandering Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Robert, was adequately handled.
A top-tier spy was now on the payroll. Snape was fiercely territorial, utterly loyal to the terms of any contract, and possessed a magical and observational skill set far exceeding Sebastian's own capacity for covert surveillance.
More importantly, using Snape eliminated Sebastian's need to compromise his own public schedule or sleep patterns. The most potent form of counter-espionage, Sebastian mused, was effective delegation.
Confident in his silent partner, Sebastian could finally shift his focus entirely to his primary project: the structural overhaul of the Muggle Studies curriculum.
The immense, unanticipated popularity of the first Muggle Studies session—driven by the novelty of Muggle technology and the promise of a dramatically easier workload—had significantly complicated his original timetable.
His initial plan had envisioned a singular, combined class for all students enrolled from third through seventh year, meeting once every two weeks for a double-period afternoon session. This structure was primarily due to the logistics of transporting and immersing students into the Muggle world, which consumed considerable time.
However, the sheer influx of students now demanded a more sophisticated, two-tiered pedagogical approach.
Sebastian's revised syllabus was designed to maximize utility and ensure every student, regardless of ambition, gained a critical skill set.
Tier 1: Years 3-5 (The Integration Imperative)
For the younger wizards, the objective remained straightforward: deep, seamless immersion. These classes were, as the students perceived, primarily for "eating, drinking, and having fun."
The assignments would focus on practical survival: understanding Muggle currency, navigating public transport systems, learning basic social etiquette, and mastering common household appliances.
The goal was to ensure that if these young wizards were ever forced to live among non-magical people, they could do so naturally, without resorting to flagrant misuse of magic or attracting unwanted attention.
This shared, low-stakes experience—spending an afternoon collaboratively failing at video games or trying to decipher an instruction manual—was Sebastian's way of subtly eroding House barriers.
In the shared chaos of the modern Muggle world, the old grudges and rivalries between Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw often dissolved, replaced by a common, baffling goal.
It was, Sebastian conceded, the best kind of win-win scenario for both inter-house dynamics and passing the inevitable O.W.L.s.
Tier 2: Years 6-7 (The Innovation Mandate)
The advanced lessons for the Sixth and Seventh Years were radically different and far more critical to Sebastian's long-term vision. These weren't about integration; they were about analytical dissection and societal uplift.
These senior students were required to move beyond basic competence and engage in critical examination of the two worlds. They would observe Muggle advancements in fields like logistics, communication, public health, and industrial efficiency.
Their task was to compare and contrast, identify the glaring infrastructural and technological shortcomings of the purely magical world (e.g., the reliance on owls for mail, the antiquated Gringotts system), and then propose viable solutions using Magical-Muggle Fusion Engineering.
This advanced track was designed to cultivate a new generation of adaptable, progressive leaders—young wizards who could leverage their understanding of both worlds to drag the insular, stagnant magical society into the modern era.
Sebastian's ambition was not just to teach; it was to groom a cohort of future politicians, healers, and entrepreneurs who would finally embrace innovation.
Sebastian, having finalized his flexible lesson plan, entered the designated classroom. He was momentarily stunned.
The number of students was overwhelming. The classroom was an ocean of black robes punctuated by flashes of House colours, teeming with young witches and wizards. He had estimated perhaps fifty to sixty total; the actual count easily exceeded one hundred and fifty.
The floor space, magically expanded but still dense, felt less like a classroom and more like a crowded marketplace on a holiday.
"By the beard of Merlin," Sebastian muttered, pulling out his enrollment charm. "It appears all the little wizards have decided to join the Muggle bandwagon. I see more faces here than at the annual Quidditch Final! This requires immediate logistical restructuring."
The air buzzed with energy. Third Years, thrilled by the sudden permission to join the fun, pointed and whispered. Meanwhile, a cluster of Fifth Year boys, including the large, menacing figure of Marcus Flint, sat together near the back.
Their faces, usually set in expressions of competitive disdain, were now alight with the same, focused intensity one usually reserved for a dangerous Quidditch match. They were passionately dissecting the strategies of Mortal Kombat—who had the fastest combo moves and the superior block timing.
As Sebastian reached the podium, the sheer force of his presence and the anticipation of whatever novelty he brought caused the noise to die instantly. The classroom fell into an electric silence, the students poised like coiled springs.
Sebastian gave them a broad, approving grin. The students had, as instructed in the prior class, deposited a massive stack of assignment scrolls on the corner of his desk—the entry ticket for the new Third Years.
"Excellent proactive behavior, students," Sebastian praised, his voice echoing clearly. "You've provided the required submissions without prompting. A testament to the academic seriousness of my course. I see that The Integration Imperative is already inspiring dedication."
He pulled out a thick stack of prepared parchment. "As is custom, and before we embark on today's field study, we shall begin with a mandatory pre-class quiz. Thirty minutes on the clock, pens only. You may begin."
A few of the younger witches, who had only heard whispers of Sebastian's magical flair, disappointed that he hadn't performed a dazzling spell yet, asked with faint hope, "Professor Swann, are we not having the roll call with the luminous butterfly summoning today?"
Sebastian waved a hand dismissively. "Not today, young ones. We have too many eager new recruits. The official roster will be finalized based on the excellent essays you submitted." He performed a non-verbal duplicating charm on the stack of quizzes, and they began to glide out across the room like paper hawks seeking their target. "The class list will be published next week. For now: Quiz. Good luck."
The room instantly became a hive of intense, focused writing. The only sound was the frantic scratching of quills. Sebastian stood at the front, analyzing his students' non-verbal communication.
The Muggle-born and Half-blood wizards were visibly relaxed, nodding slightly as they worked—the questions were simply common sense to them. But it was the reaction of the Pure-blood wizards that brought Sebastian the greatest satisfaction. Instead of the usual panic or fluster associated with exams, most pure-bloods now wore expressions of intense, pleasurable calculation.
He watched as Marcus Flint, the burly Slytherin Quidditch Captain, finished his quiz in less than fifteen minutes and slapped his quill down with arrogant finality.
"This is insultingly easy," Marcus scoffed to his equally large, thick-necked friend, his voice loud enough to carry.
"Professor Swann must think we're a lot of nitwits. A question about the proper voltage for a toaster? I could have taught myself this in a single night. I'm telling you, this subject is going to be a guaranteed O.W.L. Outstanding. I'll have the rest of the year to focus on beating the bloody Lions in Quidditch."
Charlie Weasley, a Seventh Year Gryffindor whose passion was dragons rather than academics, was sitting nearby and couldn't resist a dry comment.
"Hold on, Marcus, I see you skipped the section on quantum entanglement and its application to GPS accuracy," Charlie joked, leaning back. "Thirty minutes is plenty if you're aiming for mediocrity. But I'm sure you nailed the 'toaster' question. That's the real challenge."
Marcus sneered, missing the sarcasm entirely. "The Professor hasn't even covered those pointless technicalities! We only had one class! I've answered every single practical Muggle question on this paper. It's a guaranteed 'Acceptable' minimum, which is all I need. Honestly, this professor is a miracle worker."
A few seats away, Percy Weasley, a Sixth Year Prefect and a paragon of academic ambition, felt a surge of profound relief wash over him. Percy had chosen an ambitious twelve subjects for his N.E.W.T. track, placing him under constant, crippling pressure. Muggle Studies, under the previous professor, had been a tedious, soul-crushing exercise in rote memorization—a time sink.
Sebastian Swann is a revolutionary, Percy thought, meticulously checking his answer on the function of an ATM.
I spent four hours last term trying to memorize the different types of Muggle plumbing systems for a single chapter. Now, after one single immersive class and one quiz, I have secured a guaranteed 'Exceeds Expectations,' perhaps even an 'Outstanding.'
He quickly calculated the hours saved across the semester. Dozens of precious hours had been liberated from the Muggle Studies burden, which he could now redistribute to his more challenging subjects like Ancient Runes and Transfiguration.
Brilliant, Percy concluded, his mood lifting immensely. The class wasn't just easy; it was academically efficient.
With his remaining fifteen minutes, Percy allowed himself a small, pleasant daydream. He glanced toward the Ravenclaw section where Penelope Clearwater, the girl who perpetually held his attention, was diligently working.
Today's lesson is on cooperative Muggle entertainment, Percy mused, tapping his quill thoughtfully. I wonder if Penelope would find a two-player game like 'Contra' or perhaps a competitive session of 'Tetris' a suitable method for bonding and collaborative strategy...
The thought of relaxing while simultaneously reinforcing his understanding of Muggle gaming mechanics brought a small, genuine smile to his face.
The thirty minutes expired. With a flutter, the mass of completed quizzes rose from the desks and flew directly into Sebastian's hands.
Sebastian shuffled the stack, looking over the eager, ready-to-go faces. He was pleased. He had achieved the first step: the students were convinced that learning Muggle Studies was synonymous with fun and easy grades. They were utterly hooked.
"Very good, young wizards!" Sebastian announced, his voice ringing with theatrical pleasure. "I see a great deal of enthusiasm, which will serve you well. I notice that many of my new Third Years have correctly worn their Muggle-appropriate attire as requested! Excellent attention to detail!"
He paused, his eyes gleaming with purpose. "Same rules as always, the transition requires focus. Wands to the professor, if you please!"
From every corner of the vast classroom, wands lifted into the air, flying in a synchronized stream toward Sebastian's outstretched hand, where they were neatly collected and stored in a charmed velvet bag. The sheer volume of magic objects created a temporary, powerful atmospheric shift.
"Alright, everyone," Sebastian said, placing the bag securely in a concealed pocket.
"The gateway is prepared. Let's go and get grounded."