Two days later, the quiet peace of the Hogwarts grounds was gently disturbed by the slightly flustered, travel-weary arrival of Newt Scamander.
He carried his famous, battered leather trunk, which looked as though it had crossed continents—and perhaps dimensions—and wore his characteristic earnest expression. He was utterly exhausted from the journey, but his eyes, pale blue and sharp, held an inner glow of excitement that belied his fatigue.
Newt, the world's foremost expert on Magical Creatures, had been drawn to Hogwarts by the magnetic promise of an untapped, expansive ecosystem. The Forbidden Forest, to him, was not a place of danger, but a sanctuary of biological wonder waiting to be cataloged and protected.
The moment he saw Dumbledore—who was waiting by the castle gates with a warm, welcoming smile—Newt practically forgot he had traveled across the entire British Isles. He hurried forward, his tall, somewhat gangly frame eager, and launched immediately into his agenda.
"Albus! Albus, my old friend, it's truly wonderful to see you, but we must not waste a moment! Are we not going straight to the Forbidden Forest? The creatures won't catalog themselves!" Newt exclaimed, his voice slightly rushed but full of boyish enthusiasm.
"Tina, bless her soul, insisted I rest. She went on for quite some time about my age and how 'young people should shoulder these burdens,' but how can I possibly sit still? This is an unprecedented opportunity—a formal, magical development project, and every creature within those boundaries must be treated with the utmost ethical care! I simply must inspect the habitats at once!"
Though the years had etched fine lines around his eyes and silvered his hair, the mention of magical creatures still ignited the same restless, boundless energy he possessed in his youth.
The Forbidden Forest, with its dizzying array of life—from unicorns and hippogriffs to grindylows and thestrals—was a veritable paradise to Newt. His eyes sparkled with an irrepressible, almost frantic light; he genuinely did not wish to wait another moment.
Dumbledore chuckled, his gentle eyes crinkling at the corners. "Patience, Newt, old friend. You have time enough. I shall not accompany you. You see, I have employed a remarkable young man who possesses a unique vision for the Forest, and his staff will be your immediate students and guides. Allow me to introduce you to Deputy Headmaster Sebastian Swann."
Sebastian stepped forward from the shadow of the gatehouse, giving Newt a respectful, friendly nod.
Thank Merlin Grindelwald is still safely locked away in Nurmengard, Sebastian thought, suppressing a wry smile. Seeing the famed Magizoologist and the venerable Headmaster reunited, chatting and laughing like old school chums, was a heartwarming, if slightly surreal, sight. One could easily forget the seismic events of the last century by watching this simple interaction.
Sebastian was keenly aware of the need to cultivate a strong relationship with this influential dignitary. Newt's endorsement was worth more than a dozen Ministry authorizations. He decided to lead the training himself, personally guiding Newt and the four newly hired members of his Department of Resource Acquisition on their inaugural adventure into the Forest.
The morning quickly transformed into a masterclass in ethical Magizoology. As they traversed the territories Sebastian had recently mapped and contracted, Newt was in his element.
He pointed out the subtle signs of a Crup's den, demonstrated how to track the elusive Nifflers without alarming them, and explained the precise, minimal dosage of sedative required to harvest a sustainable amount of venom from the giant spiders—now a surprisingly docile, managed resource following Sebastian's enforcement.
Newt's sheer, natural affinity for the creatures was astonishing. Every magical beast they encountered—from the grumpy Knarls to the cautious Unicorns—seemed to calm in his presence, eager for a gentle touch or a quiet word. He explained their habits, their characteristics, and, crucially, the precise methods for handling emergencies and safely gathering materials without ever causing distress.
When interacting with the younger employees, Newt was patient, encouraging, and unfailingly kind. He spoke in a soft, musical voice, his pale eyes full of encouragement and earnest expectation, never condescending or impatient. He treated every creature, and every employee, with the same profound respect.
By the end of the morning, the four new employees—a mix of recently graduated Ravenclaws and a seasoned former Ministry clerk—had all become devoted, lifelong fans of Newt Scamander. They had not only learned how to collect rare ingredients but had also absorbed a vital, ethical framework that would define the department's operation. Newt's training guaranteed the long-term sustainability and moral integrity of the Forest project.
The weeks that followed were consumed by the intricate process of establishing the Resource Acquisition Department. Sebastian was relentless, overseeing the construction of reinforced, climate-controlled storage facilities near the Castle's boundary, finalizing the legal contracts with Firan and the Centaurs, and certifying the staff under Newt's strict standards.
Finally, on July 5th, the entire complex infrastructure of the Forbidden Forest management system was officially declared complete. Sebastian had done it: the first major asset acquisition and management project was fully operational, ready to pump resources and revenue into Hogwarts' coffers.
Sebastian leaned back in his office chair, ready to savor a few days of well-earned peace and quiet before the school year's final preparations began.
Peace was fleeting, however. An owl, larger and faster than the average postal bird, swooped through his window, dropping a letter tied with a dark green ribbon onto his desk before silently taking flight.
Sebastian recognized the familiar, elegant script on the parchment. It was from his old friend, the renowned Potioneer.
Dear Sebastian:
The Wolfsbane Potion has achieved complete success in its final phase of development! It stabilizes the subject's mind and leaves their human intellect intact during the full transformation. The full and verified recipe is enclosed herewith.
July 14th marks the next full moon—the optimal time to present this achievement to the world. I urgently require your specific expertise to execute a public, irrefutable demonstration of the Potion's effects. I cannot handle the political stagecraft alone.
Your old friend, Damocles Belby
Sebastian smiled, a slow, genuine curve of his lips. "Good. Finally, the fruits of labor," he murmured, the delicate scroll containing the recipe already placed carefully in his inner robe pocket.
Damocles needed his help, and Sebastian had no intention of letting him down. The objective was simple: to prove the potion's efficacy to the wizarding world at large. But a simple lab demonstration wouldn't suffice; this was a matter of social and political revolution, aimed at removing the vile stigma attached to werewolves.
The greatest scientific achievement must have the grandest stage.
Sebastian's mind immediately began sketching out a comprehensive public relations campaign. The demonstration required gravitas, authority, and undeniable celebrity endorsement.
A press conference is essential, but it must be framed correctly.
He imagined the headlines: [Caring for the Lives of Werewolves: Building a Harmonious Magical World with the Wolfsbane Potion]
The venue? The Ministry of Magic itself. They would invite every high-profile figure: the Minister of Magic, influential Wizengamot members, the press from The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler, and prominent figures from both the Auror office and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Fudge would be ecstatic to have such a profound, humanitarian reward delivered directly to his administration's doorstep—a win for public safety and social equality.
With the Ministry's full, official support, the Wolfsbane Potion's fame wouldn't just happen overnight; it would explode into the public consciousness, ensuring immediate, worldwide production and adoption.
Without hesitation, Sebastian penned several rapid, detailed letters—one to Damocles confirming the plan, one to an old contact in the Ministry's Press Office requesting an immediate booking for a "major humanitarian announcement," and one to a specialized Gringotts representative to begin setting up the licensing and manufacturing contracts.
He then immediately set off, Apparating directly to the Wolf Herb Garden, a small, highly secretive subsidiary of Swan Alchemy.
This company was unique. Unlike every other business in the magical world, every single person who worked at the Wolf Herb Garden was a werewolf.
In the wizarding world, werewolves faced relentless, crushing discrimination. They were no different from ordinary wizards for most of the month, but the full moon transformed them into mindless, dangerous beasts.
A bite from a transformed werewolf condemned the victim to the same agonizing fate. This led to their total ostracization, forcing them into hidden, secluded lives. Their identities were fiercely guarded secrets, and social participation, especially stable employment, was virtually nonexistent.
They were systematically forced to live below the poverty line, perpetually struggling to survive. It was this desperate poverty and social isolation that had driven many werewolves, like the notorious Fenrir Greyback, into the welcoming, corrupt embrace of Voldemort during the last war. When people are left with nothing, they are far more likely to take destructive risks.
Sebastian had created the Wolf Herb Garden for the singular purpose of providing stable, dignified employment to those werewolves who wished to remain honest, law-abiding citizens, offering them a shield against the Dark Lord's recruitment.
Here, among their own kind, no one discriminated against anyone else. These employees knew their situation was precarious—that one mistake could shatter the fragile peace—and so they worked with a desperate, bone-deep intensity, terrified of losing this hard-won security.
Sebastian arrived and walked straight toward the main office, finding the person in charge, Old Pete.
Old Pete was a powerful, burly man whose face was etched with the grim reality of a life lived on the fringes. Sebastian had found him scavenging desperately in dumpsters near Knockturn Alley. Now, Old Pete lived a respectable life, supervising a thriving business that sustained his people.
Seeing his boss, Old Pete's tired face lit up with excited gratitude. "Boss Swann! You are here to inspect the grounds?"
He pushed himself up from his worn desk. "Do not worry for a second. Every man and woman here is working themselves to the bone. There is absolutely no slacking. We all value this hard-earned business too much to jeopardize it."
"Take it easy, Pete. Sit down. Let's talk quietly for a moment," Sebastian said, extending a hand to gently guide the older man back into his chair. He had too much respect for Pete's resilience to prolong the tension.
"Boss, four more have joined the company recently," Pete said, his tone turning serious as he picked up a small stack of files. "Here are their details. I subjected them all to the maximum dose of Veritaserum myself. They are all honest, law-abiding individuals who have committed no immoral acts. They are just trying to live."
"No need, Pete, I trust your judgment completely." Sebastian gave the documents only a cursory glance before focusing on the more critical matter. "Tell me, are the full moon protective protocols still effective?"
Pete visibly stiffened, his eyes clouding with the usual pain of the routine. "You know they are, Boss. No one is permitted to leave the grounds the day before the full moon. No one is allowed to go home. Everyone must stay in their assigned, reinforced employee dormitory rooms."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping in a raw, intimate confession of duty. "I personally oversee the lockdown throughout the day. I watch them, and then I lock them in their separate cells, one by one, using the alchemical chains."
"And then?" Sebastian prompted gently, knowing the answer but wanting him to say it.
"And then," Old Pete's voice was thick with exhausted determination, "I lock myself in. I use the same chains. I know that once the change hits, I lose my human mind; I couldn't even manage to use a key. The chains are the only thing that guarantees no one, not even me, can break out."
He swallowed hard, the grimness of the reality hanging in the air. "It's difficult, Boss, yes. It's a torment. But it is the only way that is completely safe. We all understand that if there is one single incident, one bad report, this company will be shut down and all of us will return to the streets. No one has complained. It is the cost of a life."
Sebastian nodded, his smile returning, but this time it was a smile of profound promise. "Pete, I have wonderful news. My friend, Damocles Belby, has successfully created the Wolfsbane Potion. A potion that can preserve a werewolf's complete human sanity during the full moon transformation."
Old Pete stared, his rugged face expressionless for a long, silent moment. The impact of those words was too vast, too impossible, to immediately register.
"You… you won't have to suffer that terrible ritual of the chains anymore," Sebastian affirmed softly. "To introduce this revolutionary potion and change the perception of werewolves forever, I have arranged a major demonstration at the Ministry of Magic on the night of the full moon, July 14th."
Sebastian leaned forward, his voice taking on the persuasive, compelling tone of a true leader.
"I need you, Pete, and a handful of your trusted employees, to join me at the Ministry that night. You will demonstrate the potion's effects to the entire wizarding world—a public display of calm, controlled transformation, proving that a werewolf is simply a man under a temporary, physical affliction, not a monster."
"So, Old Pete," Sebastian concluded, his eyes shining with shared anticipation. "Are you willing to step forward and become the face of a new future for all werewolves?"