HP: The Right Way To Use Fantastic Beasts

The full moon cast a silver glow through the windows of the Hogwarts Library, its light mingling with the warm flicker of candles to illuminate a long table piled high with books and parchment. Countless tiny, dense characters covered the pages, interspersed with crudely drawn diagrams of stick figures waving wands.

By the window, a young witch with thick brown hair stood with her eyes closed, her wand held aloft as she carefully recalled the feeling of the spell she had just cast. After a long, quiet moment, she opened her eyes, glanced up at the night sky, and traced the shape of a cloud in the air.

"Praenuntius!"

A translucent shimmer flashed from the tip of her wand, and for a fleeting second, a faint radiance lit up her eyes before slowly extinguishing.

"Well? Can you see the omen in the sky?" Evans asked, his voice tinged with anticipation.

Hermione was quiet for a moment before nodding slowly. "I saw… a light rising in the east, and a white mist dissipating beneath it."

A satisfied smile spread across Evans's face. "That means tomorrow should be a clear day. The revelation you received was quite obscure, though, so it doesn't quite count as a successful casting."

He quickly added, "But this is still very good! After all, you've only been studying this for two hours. It at least proves you have a talent for Divination."

Despite Professor Kahn's affirmation, Hermione's face still showed a flicker of disappointment. She had been trying so hard but still felt like she was just falling short, unable to grasp that final, elusive piece of the spell.

"Professor Kahn," she whispered after another moment of thought, "what did you see when you cast the spell?"

"What did I see?" Evans looked up at the moonlit sky outside the window. He didn't draw his wand, but as he gazed into the night, an intensely bright light flared in his deep brown eyes. A moment later, symbols began to appear in his vision, arranging themselves in mid-air into neat lines of text that only he could understand.

Location: Hogwarts

Time: 12 hours later

Weather: Clear

Temperature: 20°C

Wind speed: 7 km/h

Humidity: 49%

Air quality: 35 (Good)

Main pollutant: O₃ 59 μg/m³

Looking at the string of data, Evans was slightly surprised. Even for late 20th-century Britain, the air quality at Hogwarts was unexpectedly good. But the result was far too detailed. He hesitated, deciding not to tell Hermione what he had seen.

His own Augury talent had been honed to an absurd degree; he could, if he wished, see the weather for the next week, or even the next fortnight. This far surpassed the limits of the spell he'd dubbed "Weather Forecast." No matter how gifted Hermione was, she could never master it to his level. There was no need to crush the poor girl's confidence.

"No need to rush," he said gently. "An Augurey's weather prediction is a form of Divination, and that's not an easy branch of magic to get into. Achieving this much on your first try is already wonderful. Let's go eat first."

But Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "I'm not hungry yet, Professor Kahn. I still want to… practice a bit more."

I know you're not hungry, but I'm starving! Evans thought, suppressing the urge to complain. Instead, he smiled and stood, gathering the scattered parchment from the table and handing it to her.

"Practicing magic isn't something you can master in a day or two, not to mention this spell isn't suited for a beginner. Here," he said, offering her the stack of notes. "These materials are for you. If you have any more questions about this, you can ask me anytime."

"For me?" Hermione took the parchment, a look of surprise and gratitude on her face. She could tell the notes were handwritten by the professor himself, and the thought of being given such precious original manuscripts made her feel a warmth spread through her chest.

"Thank you, Professor Kahn!"

Gathering her things, struggling slightly under the weight of several heavy books and the new roll of parchment, Hermione beamed, her face a picture of tired but happy satisfaction. After offering a few more words of encouragement, Evans watched her leave the library before finally letting out a long, quiet sigh of relief.

The homework-grading tool has been acquired! All that hunger and exhaustion was worth it!

Professor Binns, who had floated silently nearby observing the entire lesson, drifted over to Evans's side. A flicker of some unfamiliar emotion crossed his vacant eyes.

"Your understanding of the abilities of magical creatures exceeds my imagination," the ghost intoned in his slow, deliberate voice. "I look forward to the day when I can tell your story to my students in History class."

"Then you have a lot to look forward to," Evans replied with a smile. He stuffed his own notes and books into his magically expanded pocket, bade farewell to Professor Binns, and hurried toward the Great Hall.

Being famous in history could wait. First, he needed to fill his stomach.

Over the next two days, Evans juggled his history studies with a new task: tutoring an incredibly proactive Miss Granger in the art of the "Weather Forecast" spell, all while keeping a close eye on her mental state. To his credit, her learning speed was remarkable. In just two days, she could already predict the next day's weather with surprising accuracy, even managing to glean other subtle details from the omens. Given the unreliability of Muggle weather forecasts in the late 20th century, she could probably land a job at a television station.

But the dark circles gradually appearing under her eyes told him she hadn't been sleeping well. She shouldn't be ruining her health just to learn one spell.

"I wonder if she listened to me," he muttered, sitting at the desk in his room. He rested his chin in his hand, a quill held loosely in his other, and attempted to twirl it. The attempt ended in failure.

Putting the quill down, he looked at the closed notebook in front of him and sighed. The history of wizards in the Middle Ages was simply too vast; it was an inhuman amount of information to learn. Though he had spent most of the week buried in the library, he was still far from fulfilling the seal's requirement. Hogwarts's history alone filled three weighty volumes that gave him a headache just looking at them. Beyond the castle, the history was even more absurd, divided into five major periods, each meticulously recorded.

There are only a few hundred thousand wizards in modern times, and there were probably even fewer in the past. How did such a small population manage to record such a complex history?

Muttering to himself, he shook his head, extinguished the oil lamp, and lay down on his bed, hugging Alice and Nana.

Classes were starting tomorrow. It was his first official day as a Hogwarts professor, and he needed to be well-rested. He had his lesson plans prepared and the necessary magical creatures ready, but the thought of facing dozens of young wizards still made him a little nervous. Most importantly, there was no Transfiguration class on the schedule, which meant Professor McGonagall was very likely to come and observe his entire lesson.

Who wouldn't be nervous with the Deputy Headmistress sitting in on their first day?

Lost in thought, his eyelids grew heavy, and he slowly drifted into sleep. After class tomorrow, he would go to the Forbidden Forest to see some old friends.

(End of Chapter)

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