Family safety?
That single phrase short-circuited all of Quirrell's remaining caution and academic pride. If Sebastian could genuinely deliver on the promise of protecting his parents—the only thing he truly cared about outside of his research—then thirty years was a negligible price. He would serve this man for life, if necessary.
Fear of Voldemort, the crushing, existential terror of being hunted by an unkillable enemy, instantly won the internal debate. Quirrell scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and shining with feverish relief, utterly submitting himself to his new master.
"Thank you, boss! Thank you! I'm yours!" he cried, the sudden shift from weeping academic to enthusiastic servant almost comical.
Sebastian allowed a genuine grin to cross his features. Excellent.
His elaborate rescue of Quirrell wasn't merely a principled stand against the Dark Lord, nor was it just about making a symbolic statement to the wider wizarding world. It was about recruitment. Sebastian's global operations—particularly the sensitive, deep-cover businesses in the Muggle world—were overwhelming Regulus Black, who already had his hands full establishing Wizarding Films and Wizarding Publishing in Europe. Regulus was running thin on coverage outside of the European theater.
Quirrell, of all people, was the perfect candidate for the next phase of expansion.
Firstly, Quirrell had an advanced degree in Muggle Studies and a genuine fascination with non-magical technology and culture, making him uniquely suited to blend in. Secondly, despite his crippling fear, the man was undeniably clever and highly skilled—anyone who could infiltrate Gringotts and survive a year with Voldemort attached to his head possessed immense resourcefulness. Thirdly, using Quirrell as his business representative in the rapidly growing Asian markets would put an ocean and a world of cultural ignorance between him and the Death Eaters, ensuring a high degree of operational safety.
Before anything else, secure the contract.
Sebastian led Quirrell swiftly to a discreet corner of the chamber, away from Flitwick and the still-shaken Harry, and cast a rapid, tight Muffliato Charm.
"We need to establish our terms first, Professor," Sebastian said, his tone immediately business-like. "And to ensure neither of us wastes time, if you agree to the terms, you will immediately swear an Unbreakable Vow."
Quirrell sobered instantly. The term 'Unbreakable Vow' banished his momentary giddiness, replacing it with focused attention. He had just escaped a treacherous, life-threatening arrangement; he wouldn't enter another without due caution.
Quirrell looked Sebastian directly in the eye, his guard now fully up. "Before I offer an Unbreakable Vow, you must first articulate precisely how you intend to guarantee the safety of my entire family, boss. I require absolute, iron-clad certainty."
"Fair enough. Three-step process, Professor. All designed to defeat the magical and mental deficiencies of the Dark Arts community," Sebastian stated, ticking off the points on his fingers.
"Step One: Total Magical Anonymity. I possess an ancient blood magic ritual—a variation of the Fidelius Charm—that can be applied to a person, not a place. I will use it to hide the true, secret names of your entire family line. You will cease to exist on any magical ledger, scroll, or registry. No owl will ever find you, and no tracing spell will ever reveal your identity based on blood or name."
Quirrell's eyes widened with comprehension. A direct magical alteration of their very identity within the fabric of the magical world! This was brilliant. It sidestepped every conventional hunting method, which almost always relied on knowing the target's name.
"You and your family will, of course, adopt new legal names. You will be known, perhaps, as the Lockhart family from now on, not the Quirrells. When Voldemort is truly, permanently destroyed, I will reverse the ritual and restore your original names."
Quirrell nodded rapidly, utterly convinced of the efficacy of this strategy.
"Step Two: Prophetic Deflection. The Death Eaters are obsessed with vague, fear-mongering prophecies. I will provide you with a powerful alchemical object, subtly woven into a mundane item, that passively and effectively deflects any attempt to locate you via prophetic magic. They may look into the future, but they will not see your face."
"Step Three: Exploit the Enemy's Weakness." Sebastian leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping. "What was your previous professional expertise, Professor?"
Quirrell blinked, confused. "My… my old job? The Muggle Studies Professor?" He still couldn't connect his mundane academic specialty with Voldemort's downfall.
Sebastian laughed, a short, sharp sound, and punched Quirrell lightly on the shoulder.
"The greatest, most glaring weakness of Voldemort's inner circle is their utter, contemptuous hatred and ignorance of Muggles. They cannot conceive of reality outside the magical world, nor do they possess the wit to navigate it."
"Once I complete the magical shielding, I will arrange comprehensive Muggle identities, passports, and documentation for you. You will live as a Muggle with your family for the next few years, deep within the non-magical world. A place where Death Eaters would never, ever think to look, because the very idea makes them nauseous."
Quirrell's face cleared completely, a lightbulb moment illuminating his intellect. The simplicity and psychological brilliance of the plan were breathtaking. Hide in plain sight, in the one place your enemy refuses to acknowledge!
"You will not stay in Britain, of course. For maximum safety, you will leave on a smuggling ship—the last place a self-respecting wizard would look. I am transferring you to manage my rapidly expanding business interests across Southeast Asia—Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, Myanmar, and Cambodia."
"You will be paid in full, Professor. I guarantee that you and your parents will live a life of comfort and wealth, far surpassing anything you experienced at Hogwarts."
Quirrell needed no further convincing. The plan was flawless, addressing every conceivable threat—magical tracing, prophecy, and the Death Eaters' intellectual failings. He seized Sebastian's hand and shook it vigorously, almost vibrating with relief and loyalty.
"From this moment forward, you are my Master for life!" Quirrell declared passionately.
Sebastian gently extracted his hand. "Professor, while I appreciate the enthusiasm, I have no desire for an adult 'godson.' Let's stick to 'boss.' It's cleaner."
"Very well. I will have you meet a gentleman in the Muggle world—a 'Mr. White.' You will spend the next year under his tutelage, learning the intricacies of running a legitimate Muggle corporation. Once you have mastered the basics, you will arrange for your parents to meet you on a smuggling route out of the country and proceed to your new posting in Asia."
Sebastian paused, a mischievous glint in his eye, and pulled out a sleek, modern camera—a Muggle one. He thrust it into Quirrell's hand.
"Before you go, however, a little extracurricular work. I need a video testimony. I've already thought up the perfect headline—"
[BREAKING: I'm Filing a Formal Complaint! Mysterious Person Treats Subordinate Like a Human Pinata!]
"I want a detailed account of how the Mysterious Person first deceived you with promises of power, then persecuted you relentlessly, culminating in the complete destruction of your professional life. Focus on the trauma, the betrayal, and the sheer audacity of this so-called Dark Lord."
Quirrell nodded, already slipping into the dramatic persona, the memory of his torment fueling the required outrage. This was a form of revenge he could happily participate in.
After securing his new, highly valuable, and now terrified employee, Sebastian left Quirrell in the capable, supportive hands of Professor Flitwick, who was now busy conjuring warm, comforting tea for his former student. Sebastian took Harry and, gathering the rest of the weary adventurers—Ron, Hermione, and Draco—led them out of the chamber and up toward the fourth floor.
They found Professor Snape waiting, cloaked in his habitual shadow and ill-temper.
Snape fixed the four children with a dark, piercing stare. "Potter, you and these three imbeciles trespassed into a highly restricted area on the fourth floor. For your profound insolence and disregard for rules, you will each lose twenty points."
Harry immediately bowed his head, expecting the customary Snape storm of derision.
"However," Snape's voice shifted, softening slightly, though it retained its characteristic velvet menace. "The successful deployment of teamwork, the courageous disregard for your own safety in defense of the school's integrity, and the calculated decision to sacrifice one's own piece for the benefit of the whole…"
Snape paused, his gaze settling briefly on Ron, then Hermione, then Harry.
"I am therefore compelled to award each of you thirty points for exceptional bravery and strategic thinking. Do not ever let me catch you engaging in reckless behavior again."
Snape swished his black robes dramatically and stalked away without another word, leaving the four students staring after him in stunned disbelief.
Sebastian couldn't help but chuckle. Snape truly is the master of dramatic timing. Let's see Dumbledore try to counter that net gain.
He smiled, wrapping his left arm securely around Harry's shoulders and his right around Draco's, leading the quartet towards the hidden entrance to the Hogwarts Kitchens.
"Come on, Professor Swann," Harry pleaded, his stomach rumbling loudly now that the tension had broken. "We're starving! It's way past dinner."
"Indeed, Harry," Sebastian confirmed, steering them toward the portraits. "And since Professor Snape was so generously confusing, I believe I should personally cook a proper, late-night celebratory supper for all of you. A reward for your extraordinary bravery."
He focused his attention on the newly minted allies.
"Malfoy, a private word of advice: do not write to your father about any of this tonight."
Draco, still slightly stunned by the massive point gain, looked bewildered. "Why, Professor? I want to tell him I caught a bad guy!"
"Because," Sebastian drawled, leaning closer, "if your father learns you were involved in an investigation that required you to work with a Weasley and a Gryffindor on a problem you couldn't solve on your own, I fear he will dock your allowance for the next six months out of sheer paternal disappointment. Trust me on this."
Draco swallowed hard, his face paling. Cutting his allowance was a far greater threat than Voldemort. "Understood, Professor. Mum's the word."
"Mr. Weasley," Sebastian continued, turning to Ron. "Your game of Wizard's Chess was tactically superb, and your courage to sacrifice yourself for the sake of the overall objective was commendable. The Professor is exceptionally impressed."
Ron puffed out his chest, beaming, the pain of his sacrifice instantly forgotten. "Cheers, Professor!"
"And Miss Granger," Sebastian smiled warmly at Hermione, who was still trying to calculate the Gryffindor/Slytherin point totals. "Your quick-thinking and academic brilliance in identifying and stopping the Devil's Snare prevented an absolute catastrophe and saved Mr. Weasley's life. You truly are the cleverest witch in the first year."
Hermione blushed furiously, scratching her head, finding the Professor's praise overwhelming. "Oh, it was nothing, Professor."
"Harry," Sebastian squeezed his shoulder. "I am most proud that you chose not to charge in recklessly and instead relied on your wits and the strategic use of your available resources—namely, your friends—to overcome the final obstacles. Excellent leadership."
"Hehe…" Harry chuckled shyly, exchanging a tired but satisfied glance with his friends.
"Now, stop looking so virtuous and remember that you are starving! You must all eat a magnificent feast!" Sebastian said, pushing them gently toward the kitchen entrance.
"By the way, what beverage suits your heroic appetites? I have Muggle Coke, standard pumpkin juice, and an excellent non-alcoholic butterbeer reserve."
Harry and the others immediately looked at each other, the shared trauma and triumph dissolving into the simple, pleasant excitement of an impending feast. They shouted their orders in unison.
"Two Cokes!" Harry and Hermione yelled.
"Two butterbeers!" Ron and Draco countered.
Sebastian laughed, shaking his head. "Very well. Four very brave, very hungry children. Let's go."