Dumbledore's expression was a study in profound shock. He had spent his life steeped in the arcane history and moral complexities of the magical world, and the Muggle world he knew was one of quiet, post-war reconstruction—a world of steam trains and burgeoning domestic technology.
The world Sebastian described—a world of instant, global communication, high-resolution surveillance, and orbiting satellites—was alien, overwhelming, and utterly terrifying.
A sudden, unexpected wave of relief washed over the Headmaster. Thank goodness Sebastian was the Professor of Muggle Studies. At least the next generation of wizards would not inherit the current, catastrophic level of blissful ignorance.
He gently placed his hand on the thick Work-Study proposal Sebastian had submitted, his focus returning to the current crisis. "I understand your point, Sebastian. The security threat of a technologically advanced Muggle society is far graver than I, or indeed the Ministry, has ever conceived. But Gellert mentioned you were filming in the Muggle world. Can you elaborate on the purpose of this peculiar tactic?"
Sebastian smiled, a confident, predatory glint in his eye. "Before I explain the tactics, Headmaster, I need to introduce a fundamental concept to both of you: the Muggle Dichotomy."
Grindelwald, who had been listening with a visible sneer, straightened up, his deep-set eyes narrowing. The Muggle Dichotomy. He was genuinely interested now. He had spent decades viewing Muggles as a monolithic, fearful obstacle to be conquered or ruled.
"When wizards look at Muggles, they view them as a singular, uniform problem," Sebastian explained, settling more comfortably on his stool. "But the Muggle populace and the Muggle governments are two fundamentally different, even oppositional, groups. We must treat them entirely separately."
"Muggle governments, much like their magical counterparts, crave absolute control. They dislike anything outside their regulatory grasp. Therefore, they are intrinsically hostile to the very concept of magic."
"But ordinary Muggles? They are consumed by their own lives, their jobs, their rising economic and social pressures. They are less concerned with what the government thinks and far more concerned with escape."
Sebastian leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "The centuries-old conflict between wizard and Muggle is ancient history to them. Today, when Muggles consider wizards, they see only legend, fantasy, and intense, vibrant curiosity. Once we grasp this psychological reality, our main objective is simple: to fully leverage that curiosity and make the idea of wizards seem not hostile, but desirable."
"This requires us to capitalize on the momentum of a massive, global trend currently being pushed by those very Muggle governments."
Sebastian paused again, allowing the suspense to build. "Do either of you know the current, paradoxical socio-economic problem plaguing the Muggle developed world?"
Without waiting for a response, Sebastian revealed his answer with dramatic flair: "The Surplus of Talent!"
"Since the Second World War, the Muggle world has produced an unprecedented and overwhelming surplus of intelligent, educated, and ambitious individuals," Sebastian explained, ticking off points on his fingers.
"Too many people capable of high-level thought and problem-solving—a situation that, unchecked, inevitably leads to intellectual unrest and revolutionary thought."
"The Muggle governments needed a solution to dilute this excessive cerebral power while keeping the necessary workforce happy and compliant. Their solution? Fun!"
Dumbledore looked utterly baffled, and Grindelwald, though his eyes were sharp, also looked confused by the simplicity of the term.
"It is quite brilliant in its simplicity," Sebastian pressed on. "The Muggle government actively promotes an environment where people spend an increasing amount of time and resources on entertainment. This creates a cultural shift: general public intelligence and political engagement decline, the populace remains docile and easier to govern, and the anxiety of the 'talent surplus' is temporarily eliminated. It's a symbiotic, if cynical, win-win."
"The next twenty to thirty years are destined to be a Golden Era of Entertainment—a time when the industry develops at breakneck speed. This is our window of opportunity."
"My plan is to fully develop the wizarding film industry and a dedicated publishing house within the Muggle world. We will utilize Muggle film and television technology to craft, refine, and promote the image of witches and wizards. We must embed that image deep into the Muggle psyche."
Sebastian's voice became passionate, almost pleading. "Muggle life is stressful, Headmaster. They face heavy workloads, complex social dynamics, and the constant pressure of reality. They crave escape. The world of fantasy, particularly the world of magic, is the perfect haven for their souls. If we can make them believe that magic is real, but package it initially as the best fiction they've ever consumed—if we can make them love us before they even know we exist—they will side with us, not their governments."
Grindelwald interrupted with a sharp, dry laugh—a sound like crumbling stone.
"A beautiful fairytale, Professor Swann," he sneered. "You truly deserve that salary increase. But you still don't grasp the political reality. If your cinematic 'legends' ever manage to convince a significant portion of the populace that magic is real, the Muggle governments will not care about their curiosity. They will see only a rival power structure. What do you think happens when they realize their magical fantasy is a literal, armed threat? Are you truly so naïve as to believe they will simply 'get along'?"
Sebastian remained perfectly unruffled. He had anticipated this political challenge from the former revolutionary.
"The solution to that problem, Mr. Grindelwald, was conceived by clever Muggles millennia ago: Divide, Conquer, and Co-opt."
"The Muggle government is not a single, unified entity; it is a complex organism made up of multiple, often hostile political factions and parties, each with its own agenda. And every single party is, ultimately, made up of individuals."
Sebastian smiled, knowingly. "As long as they are human, they will have desires. And as long as they have selfish desires—for power, for influence, for money—everything becomes negotiable."
"We simply identify the Muggle political parties that are ideologically friendly to the idea of a shared world—or, more accurately, those that are the most vulnerable to magical influence and financing—and we support their rise to power. As for the political parties that remain belligerently hostile to our existence…"
"Sebastian, stop."
Dumbledore's voice was sudden, firm, and filled with a rare, desperate urgency. He admitted that Sebastian's strategic ideology was alarmingly mature, and he could feel his own youthful idealism stirring in agreement with the goal. But the young man's political maneuvering was charting a terrifyingly ruthless path. Sebastian was clearly implying the systemic elimination of rival Muggle political structures.
"Your thinking is becoming perilous, Sebastian," Dumbledore warned, his eyes grave. "You must retain respect for all life, even the lives of those in opposition. If you disregard the value of a Muggle life, your soul will be compromised far more easily than by learning Fiendfyre."
Grindelwald, surprisingly, came to Sebastian's defense, his thin hand waving Dumbledore's worries away dismissively.
"Albus, your sentiment is noble, but your moral panic is predictable. I actually find the boy's pragmatism… refreshing. Tell me, Sebastian, I am indeed starting to be convinced by the breadth of your ambition."
Sebastian seized the momentary truce. He rose and with a quick, non-verbal charm, summoned a rolled-up world map from a concealed drawer in Dumbledore's desk and unfurled it, sticking it magically to the cold stone wall.
"Gentlemen, let's consider a concept Muggles developed to ensure the preservation of peace: Nuclear Deterrence."
He pointed specifically to the United States on the map, the home of the world's most militarily aggressive government and the strictest magical secrecy code.
"We all know the American magical community's Statute of Secrecy is the most draconian because their Muggle government possesses an extremely strong, rogue character—they view themselves as the supreme global authority. This is the very Muggle government that possesses a staggering nuclear arsenal."
"But look: the nuclear deterrent works. It forces even the most rogue governments to sit down at the negotiation table with their rivals, because the consequences of unilateral action are too severe."
Sebastian turned, his entire posture now radiating command.
"If the Statute of Secrecy is to fall, we must not be viewed as merely an annoying, theatrical threat. We must be viewed as an Existential Deterrent. We must inform those hostile Muggle political parties and the global aggressors that the magical world possesses its own unique 'nuclear weapon'—our Humanoid Nuke."
He paused, letting the dramatic, unnerving phrase echo through the ancient stone cell.
"Only when we possess an obvious, irrefutable capability to inflict a proportional, devastating magical response—only then will everything shift from a battlefield to a negotiation table."
Sebastian stepped away from the map and extended his right hand, making his final, formal proposition to the two titans. His gaze was steady, utterly confident, and compelling.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, your concerns are valid. I am young and require the wisdom of an experienced wizard like you to both guide and restrain me. You are the moral compass and the political stabilizer."
"Mr. Grindelwald, you are a prominent figure in wizarding history, and your life's singular purpose has been to break the bonds of secrecy. I require your ruthless, genius-level insight into magical political systems and the true understanding of destructive power."
"I sincerely invite you both to join this cause for the violation of the Statute of Secrecy."
"Be my allies."