Sylvanus Kettleburn, a pure-blood wizard and Hufflepuff alumnus, had been fascinated by magical creatures since his school days—especially the dangerous ones.
After graduating, he couldn't secure a job raising dragons in Romania, so he took a cushy, low-effort position. During holidays, he'd visit Romania to see the dragons. After an Australian Opaleye bit off his hand during its breeding season, he applied to return to Hogwarts as a professor.
His expertise with magical creatures was undeniable, and he passed the interview with ease. But his reckless, careless nature made him a mediocre teacher who often caused trouble. During his tenure, he faced sixty-two probationary reviews.
About forty or fifty years ago, while rehearsing the play The Fountain of Fair Fortune, he insisted on using a magically enlarged Ashwinder as a prop. Mid-performance, it lost control, exploded, and set the stage ablaze. The fire and smoke sent nearly a hundred students to the hospital wing, Professor Binns suffered a head injury, and the acrid, burnt smell lingered for months.
His relationship with then-Headmaster Armando Dippet soured, and he had little reputation among students or connections to speak of.
Early in his career, he'd received injury compensation, and a professor's salary wasn't small. Yet Kettleburn's love for dangerous creatures and his generosity in rescuing wild animals left him with little savings—and one less leg.
As his body aged, his restless spirit gradually calmed.
By the time Dumbledore became headmaster, Kettleburn was down to half an arm and a leg, far steadier than in his youth. With friends' persuasion, he settled into a relatively peaceful life.
In recent years, he'd stopped his reckless antics, using his expertise to save up for retirement. He'd bought a house in Hogsmeade, planning to settle there after leaving Hogwarts.
He'd intended to retire last year, but Harry Potter's arrival piqued his curiosity, so he stayed on another year.
Alongside Harry, a new Muggle Studies professor, Melvin Lewent, joined Hogwarts. A talented young wizard—far more capable than Kettleburn had been at that age—Melvin had a distinctly Slytherin approach.
Kettleburn initially had no interest in connecting with him, but the young professor's actions drew him in.
Melvin excelled at teaching, ensuring strong student performance. Beyond his duties, he handled Ministry challenges, thwarted Voldemort's schemes, and cleverly spread Dumbledore's warnings in unconventional ways.
In stark contrast was Quirinius Quirrell.
After Easter, with rumors of Voldemort's potential return, Kettleburn grew uneasy. Sleepless nights were filled with worries about what would happen to Hogwarts and its students after he retired.
Unmarried and childless, Kettleburn saw Hogwarts as his home. He feared his successor for Care of Magical Creatures might not be trustworthy. A mediocre professor like himself was one thing, but someone like Quirrell? That was a disaster.
Deep down, he knew Dumbledore and McGonagall could handle it—he didn't need to worry. He hadn't been a great professor in his youth, often showing students dangerous creatures based on his whims, injuring himself regularly and students occasionally.
He was a seasoned professor but with a poor reputation, only able to work until retirement thanks to his pure-blood status and Dumbledore's support.
Still, he couldn't let go of his concerns.
Before retiring, he wanted to find a worthy successor—someone who genuinely loved magical creatures, cared for Hogwarts, and cherished its students.
Sitting on a sofa in the carriage, Kettleburn looked at the hulking figure by the door and smiled. "Hagrid, it's windy out there. Come inside."
"I'm fine! I like the breeze!" Hagrid replied.
Hogwarts Castle had vanished from sight, but the half-giant perched on the carriage's front remained exhilarated, staring at the Thestrals' flapping wings, making them uneasy.
The winged horses glided between valleys and hills, their dragonhide reins slightly slack. Unlike Muggle carriages, the Thestrals and carriage weren't physically tethered but held steady by invisible magic.
The carpeted carriage was smooth, without a hint of jolting.
Melvin sat by the window, reviewing documents as the scenery sped by. June's golden sunlight streamed in, glinting off the parchment, slightly dazzling.
As the light grew brighter, Melvin put away his papers, rubbed his temples to relax, and glanced at Professor Kettleburn nearby.
Picking up their earlier conversation, he asked, "So, you're planning to have Hagrid take over Care of Magical Creatures?"
Kettleburn wasn't surprised. A Sorting Hat-confirmed Slytherin like Melvin was bound to pick up on his intentions. "What do you think? Good choice, right?"
Melvin shook his head with a smile. "Hagrid loves magical creatures and gets along well with students, but he's not ready to be a professor."
"Why not?"
"Hagrid was expelled in his third year over a false accusation. He never completed a full wizarding education. His knowledge of creatures comes from observing the Forbidden Forest, which is shallow at best. What's simple to him can be entirely different for students."
"…"
Kettleburn fell into thought.
"Hagrid calls Acromantulas gentle and cute, and for him, that's true—the ones in the Forest are Aragog's descendants. But what about wild Acromantulas? Or how students see them? Hagrid's not a pure-blood, and he has a criminal record. He won't get sixty-two chances like you did. With the current tensions between the Ministry, the Board, and Hogwarts, one mistake, and he's out."
Melvin paused. "To make Hagrid a competent professor, he needs systematic knowledge—how normal wizards view magical creatures and their typical behaviors."
Coming from the Examinations Authority's special consultant, the words carried weight.
Kettleburn, with decades of experience, recognized this Slytherin-style persuasion. After a moment's reflection, he chuckled wryly. "Melvin, Hagrid's your friend too. Got any ideas or suggestions? Just say it."
"Muggle scientist Richard Feynman proposed a learning method: repetition and teaching others are the fastest ways to learn. To get Hagrid up to speed, have him study and explain simultaneously."
"How, exactly?"
"Your vivid memories of chasing creatures worldwide shouldn't go to waste. The Mirror Club plans to produce less formal programs. We could use your memories of magical creatures, with Hagrid narrating—covering their anatomy, physiology, genetics, and behaviors…"
Melvin smiled warmly. "I'm calling it Wizarding World of Creatures."
"Sounds intriguing."
Kettleburn stroked his beard, his eyes brightening.
Hagrid had the makings of a great professor but also clear flaws. As groundskeeper, he rarely left Britain, barely venturing beyond London and Hogsmeade. He'd never seen many magical creatures in person.
Using Kettleburn's memories to broaden Hagrid's horizons while teaching systematic knowledge was a win-win.
"The Mirror Club will pay handsomely," Melvin added.
Now it was a win-win-win.
Kettleburn repeated it silently to himself.
…
The sun climbed to its peak.
The heat outside was palpable, but the carriage stayed cool. A summer breeze lifted a corner of the black curtain, letting warm air slip in.
Hagrid finally tore his gaze from the Thestrals and entered the carriage, pulling rock cakes from his pocket and offering them eagerly. "Melvin, Professor Kettleburn, hungry? Have some rock cakes!"
"No, thanks," both professors declined, pulling out their own food—mushroom soup, steak, and stew from the Hogwarts kitchens, paired with jam and bread.
Hagrid suddenly found his rock cakes less appealing.
"Save those for Norbert, Hagrid," Melvin said. "Help us finish this. It won't keep in this heat."
"Heh…"
Rock cakes kept well, so Hagrid happily tackled the professors' food, stuffing his mouth and mumbling, "Wonder if Fang's eaten. If the centaurs' roasts don't suit him, I left rock cakes under my bed…"
As Hagrid rambled, Kettleburn caught Melvin's amused glance and, after a moment's thought, asked, "Hagrid, do you know what breed Fang is?"
"Neapolitan Mastiff, of course! Looks fierce with those teeth, but he's a big softie."
"Have you heard of the Crup, a famous English dog?"
"Seen one. Looks like a Jack Russell Terrier. A blind wizard from Wiltshire at the Hog's Head had one. Said you've got to dock their tails when they're a few weeks old, or they grow forked like a swallow's."
"Crups are wizard-bred, XXX-level creatures, resembling Muggle terriers like Papillons or Pembroke Corgis—short-haired, upright ears, forked tails, usually cream, light brown, or white, sometimes mottled. As pups, they're aggressive toward Muggles, nipping trousers and barking, thanks to their tails' magical ability to track them," Kettleburn explained, watching Hagrid's reaction. "You need a license from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Per Regulation 73-A, Crup puppies must have their tails docked by eight weeks."
"Oh, right…" Hagrid replied absently.
A hands-on wizard, Hagrid would memorize creature facts if he were raising one. But casual lunch talk? It went in one ear and out with the food.
Kettleburn sighed in frustration.
Melvin chimed in with a smile. "In the mid-18th century, American Magical Congress President Thornton Harkaway kept a pack of Crups. They attacked Muggles in Williamsburg, Virginia, causing a scandal that cost him his position and forced the Congress to relocate to Baltimore."
"No way!" Hagrid's eyes widened.
"There've been plenty of Crup attacks on Muggles in England too. They're fiercely loyal to wizards but vicious to Muggles, possibly because their breeders were pure-bloods."
"Really?" Hagrid frowned.
Kettleburn nodded thoughtfully, catching on. To teach Hagrid, he needed engaging stories.
"Not always," he continued. "Many magical creatures form unique bonds with wizards—Kneazles, Hippogriffs, even Dumbledore's phoenix. Loyal pets share similar traits."
Hagrid slowed his eating, intrigued.
"Some intelligent creatures can sense their own death," Kettleburn added. "They'll leave quietly, sparing their owners the pain of seeing them go."
"…"
Melvin listened to the lesson, satisfied that Wizarding World of Creatures was taking shape. He finished lunch slowly and returned to his documents.
Gathering data on wizarding communities was routine for him, thanks to trusted partners. The Knockturn Alley crowd knew his needs, compiling detailed reports on wizarding ecosystems in Budapest and Romania.
The data, presented in clear tables, was easy to grasp.
Budapest, Hungary's capital, neighbored Romania, with Bulgaria, Serbia, and Ukraine nearby. Wizarding history lagged behind Muggle progress, and many still referred to the region as the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
The area was home to notable wizarding landmarks: Durmstrang Institute, the Bulgarian Quidditch team, diverse dragon breeds, Romania's Dragon Sanctuary, Austria's Nurmengard prison, and Budapest's lingering Pureblood Party remnants…
Combining his memories with the data, Melvin spotted intriguing connections among seemingly unrelated elements.
Ukrainian Ironbellies, Hungarian Horntails, Romanian Longhorns, Norwegian Ridgebacks… The concentration of dragons created ideal conditions for a sanctuary.
Durmstrang's tolerance for dark magic produced extreme wizards, most famously Gellert Grindelwald.
The first Dark Lord leveraged the region's culture to found the Pureblood Party.
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