The realization that his first birthday marked not the arrival of Harry Potter, but the depths of the First Wizarding War, plunged Sebastian into a perpetual state of strategic dread. He was not a savior arriving for the final battle; he was a civilian embedded in the most dangerous territory of the mid-century conflict, a fragile infant caught between two colossal powers.
Based on the fragmented memories of the films and general lore that flickered through his consciousness, Sebastian could roughly map out the decades ahead: the period of high terror, the war years, and the brief, terrifying ascension of Lord Voldemort's power. His immediate anxiety fixated, quite rightly, on the Swann family.
The Swanns were the epitome of what the Dark Lord craved: ancient pure-blood lineage, highly respected reputation, and, most crucially, a traditional focus on Alchemy, making them, quite literally, a walking Galleon vault.
Wealth was power, and Voldemort was the great, greedy equalizer. Sebastian could easily envision the scenario: Old Voldemort, looking to consolidate resources and prestige, taking one appreciative, cold glance and declaring, "The Swann family's assets and legacy are destined to serve the Death Eaters."
What was a rich, influential, but politically non-aligned pure-blood family to do when the Dark Lord came recruiting? Compliance meant corruption and eventual destruction. Resistance meant immediate, brutal execution.
Sebastian's first, fleeting impulse was to utilize his temporal knowledge. Should he become a Prophet? Could he subtly leak information, guiding his family and the good side?
The idea was immediately and violently rejected.
It was a strategy of pure, theatrical idiocy. Sebastian knew two canonical prophets. One was Sybill Trelawney, whose genuine gift was so chaotic and rare that she was useless ninety-nine percent of the time, yet she was protected by Dumbledore at Hogwarts purely for the one percent chance she would blurt out something useful.
The other was the infamous Cassandra Vablatsky, whose power was so destabilizing to the balance of power that she was essentially imprisoned in Nurmengard.
Prophecy, Sebastian concluded, was not a superpower; it was a high-risk liability.
He was a child. If he started making stunningly accurate predictions, the responses would swing between two equally disastrous extremes. First, the majority would dismiss him entirely.
"A child's wild fancy," they would scoff, laughing at the 'charlatan' with the ridiculous, perfect memory. In his past life, Sebastian had been a pragmatic, law-abiding student; being labeled a manipulative liar from childhood was not the ideal foundation for a career of political influence. He couldn't even verify his claims with a genuine vision; the entire act was a bluff based on future knowledge. Living a lie from infancy would be a wearisome, soul-crushing path.
The second, far more lethal possibility, was that people believed him. Nine out of ten of his genuine "prophecies" would concern the actions and downfall of the bald, noseless monster. Information, especially about the Dark Lord, always leaks.
No secret remains contained in the leaky cauldron of the magical world. If that news reached Lord Voldemort's ears, the instruction would be simple and terrifyingly efficient: "This child must not be allowed to live."
Sebastian was determined to survive long enough to wield a wand, not be extinguished like a candle flame by an Avada Kedavra while still in nappies. He hadn't even reached puberty, let alone Hogwarts.
With the hope of a magical system—that ubiquitous cheat code of every transmigrator's dream—having failed to materialize despite two years of ceaseless, near-religious searching, Sebastian accepted reality. Merlin, it seemed, was either utterly indifferent to his plea or required a much higher "add money" threshold than Sebastian could currently meet.
After painstaking reflection and the cynical dissection of the known timeline, Sebastian synthesized his own two-pronged survival strategy:
The "Roll" (Grind): Absolute magical and intellectual superiority.
The "Money" (Gold): Leverage the vast wealth and influence of the Swann family to navigate the political shadows.
Sebastian was a veteran of the "roll." Coming from a culture famous for its obsessive educational focus, he was not intimidated by volume.
Now, being reborn into a pure-blood family with an astonishing private library, he had access to centuries of magically bound texts—spellbooks, grimoires, and arcane theoretical works that the average wizard would never even glimpse.
Since the moment he learned to decipher runes, he became a Hermione Granger on steroids. He absorbed magical theory like a sponge, not just memorizing incantations, but mastering the underlying math and physics of every charm. By the time he was eleven, the knowledge stored in his pre-Hogwarts mind already surpassed that of most seventh-year students preparing for their N.E.W.T.s.
The philosophy was brutally simple: Power is the only guarantee of peace. If he could achieve a magical power level akin to a young Dumbledore—unrivaled, supreme, and utterly self-reliant—then the bald, noseless monster would become a threat he could actually face, not merely hide from.
From a financial perspective, the Swann family was already established among the top three wizarding fortunes. But Sebastian taught them to spend strategically. He began dropping subtle, politically astute ideas into the ear of his grandfather, Anton, an old man whose face grew increasingly stunned by the sudden strategic genius of his grandson.
"We need to look at the other side not as a monolith, Grandfather," Sebastian whispered one evening, his three-year-old voice surprisingly commanding. "We must divide the Death Eaters into two simple categories: the Fanatics—the pure ideologues you must avoid at all costs—and the Undecided."
The old man, who had assumed his grandson was a literary prodigy because he only liked to read, realized he had bred a true, calculating genius.
The Swanns began a sophisticated campaign of corporate distancing. They subtly curtailed dealings with known Fanatic families while simultaneously nurturing close, extensive business relationships with the Undecided faction. They became the financial anchor for the neutral parties, the merchants and politicians who simply wanted to be rich and powerful without the messiness of mass murder.
The message sent was deafeningly clear: The Swanns are too valuable as a source of wealth to be antagonized. They are the golden key to the economy.
This shrewd maneuvering meant the Undecided members were, ironically, the people who least wanted the Swann family to commit to Voldemort's cause.
If the Swanns joined, they would steal the political spotlight and control the wealth. By remaining neutral but powerful, the Swanns effectively used the greed of the undecided to shield themselves from the fanaticism of the loyalists.
Furthermore, Sebastian ensured the family's martial reputation remained formidable. His grandfather, Anton Swann, was a genuinely powerful duelist, and his grandmother, Jane, was a famously ruthless retired Auror from Hufflepuff (a fact Sebastian found endlessly amusing).
Together, their combined reputation ensured the undecided factions would never dare see the Swanns as easy prey, further cementing their unassailable neutrality.
Though the cheat-system door was slammed shut, Sebastian was lucky: the Swann family's bloodline ability was a window into true magical mastery.
Just as a descendant of Slytherin might awaken the rare gift of Parseltongue, the Swann line possessed the Highest Level of Magical Perception. Historically, this gifted their ancestors with unparalleled precision in Potion Making and Alchemy—the core family business.
For Sebastian, the transmigrator and aspiring battle mage, this ability was an exceptional combat tool.
Within a 360-degree sphere extending ten meters, Sebastian could feel the subtle thrum of magic. He sensed every object imbued with a spell, every wizard's unique magical signature, and most importantly, the instantaneous, ethereal movement of a spell being cast.
He could observe the dazzling burst of power gathering in the caster's core, the micro-second it took to travel through the wand, the unique, complex trajectory the wand followed in the air, and the precise moment of magical discharge.
Sebastian often joked to himself that he possessed the magical world's equivalent of Observation Haki.
This ability allowed him to perfectly mimic the mana flow and spell trajectory of others. He could cast the most complex counter-spells with lightning speed because he didn't just react to the attack—he reacted to the intent.
Once he successfully replicated a spell, he would spend days adjusting the mana expenditure and wand movement until the spell was 100% efficient and personalized for his own unique core.
He lamented the potential of his power: No more need for restrictive magical defense shields! No more generic offensive fire spells! Give me customized, perfected magical firepower!
Compounding this gift was the soul fusion. The merging of the mature, foreign soul with the fragile, native body had created a singular entity far greater than the sum of its parts. Sebastian's magical power core was a terrifying anomaly—it was roughly three times the capacity of an average wizard.
By the time he attended Hogwarts at age eleven, his raw magical might dwarfed that of ordinary adult wizards, placing him immediately among the highest-tier prodigies the school had ever seen.
Sebastian arrived at Hogwarts already an intellectual giant and a magical powerhouse, instantly becoming the obsession of every professor—with one notorious exception.
Dumbledore.
The old man's wariness was understandable, given the result of the Sorting Ceremony. Sebastian had hoped, genuinely, for a place among the brave and bombastic.
His first choice, in fact, had been Gryffindor. He had calculated that winning Dumbledore's personal favor and patronage was the most direct path to future political power. He wanted to be the heir apparent, the protégé who could guide the Light side with his modern perspective and strategic brilliance.
But the Sorting Hat, that old, tattered sentinel of fate, had seen the years of cynical calculation, the ruthless ambition, and the profound cunning that had saved his family from the war.
The Hat, its voice booming across the Great Hall during his introduction, had definitively declared: "SLYTHERIN!"
The timing could not have been worse. The Second Wizarding War was just beginning to simmer, and Slytherin was already infamous as the breeding ground for the fledgling Death Eaters. Dumbledore, seeing such extraordinary talent, power, and wealth immediately draped in green and silver, was understandably concerned that this successful student would be led down the path of darkness.
Sebastian, however, held no prejudice against any house. His family was a delightful, magical tapestry of contradiction:
Grandfather Anton: Slytherin.
Grandmother Jane: A tough, retired Auror from Hufflepuff.
Father Sam: A bookish genius from Ravenclaw.
Mother Shirley: A fiery, protective former Gryffindor.
(His mother, in fact, had been the only one betting against Slytherin, claiming that even as a toddler, Sebastian's political plotting was "very un-Gryffindor.")
In the end, the house was merely a color on a crest. Sebastian's ultimate, two-sided philosophy, forged in the fires of his time-traveling knowledge, remained his only true guiding star:
"If you approach me with logic, reason, and respect for my intelligence, then I am Dumbledore—a wise and powerful ally."
"But if you choose to refuse logic, cling to blind dogma, and stand in the way of my greater designs, then I might just be Voldemort—a force you cannot afford to ignore."