Chapter 9: The Bat in Question

Evening Feast was a whirlwind of new sensations for Harry. The ever-shifting constellations on the enchanted ceiling, food that appeared with a single word, the translucent ghosts gliding through the walls—it was a world away from the suffocating confines of the Dursleys' cupboard. His brain felt overloaded, but he didn't mind in the slightest.

Amid the chaos, he noticed something strange. The older students at all three tables—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff—kept casting furtive, almost fearful glances toward the faculty table, a hint of awe mixed with their anxiety. The Slytherin table, draped in silver and green, was another story entirely. It was so unnervingly quiet, a frozen island of silence, that Harry didn't dare look too closely.

Were they all looking at Professor Kahn? But why? Harry had quizzed Ron extensively on the train, and the professor's name had never come up among the famous figures of the wizarding world.

His confusion was soon interrupted. The feast was drawing to a close, and Headmaster Dumbledore rose once again, his voice echoing softly as he cleared his throat.

"I trust you have all eaten and drunk your fill. Now, I have a few more announcements."

"Firstly, regarding the Forbidden Forest. The forest behind the school is, as a rule, forbidden to all students. I trust certain older students, in particular, will pay strict attention to this." As he spoke, Dumbledore seemed to tilt his head, his gaze sweeping over the teachers' table with a pointed look before he turned back to the students.

"Please do not cast spells in the corridors between classes. Those who wish to try out for their house Quidditch teams should contact Madam Hooch in the second week."

"And one more particularly important thing," Dumbledore added, a playful glint in his eye. "Any student who does not wish to suffer a painful, accidental death should not enter the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor."

A ripple of laughter went through the hall, but Harry noticed Percy, the prefect sitting beside him, furrow his brow.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked curiously.

"Usually, for forbidden places, the Headmaster explains the reason," Percy muttered. "But this time…"

Before he could finish, Dumbledore's speech continued. "Finally, I would like to introduce some changes to our teaching staff." He paused for silence. "After a year's leave, Professor Quirrell has transitioned from Muggle Studies to become our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The Muggle Studies course will continue to be taught by Professor Burbage."

Professor Quirrell, his head wrapped in a thick purple turban, stood and gave a short, nervous bow. As he sat down, Harry's eyes were drawn to the grim-faced man beside him. Half of the man's face was obscured by Quirrell's turban, but the moment their cold eyes met, a sharp, searing pain shot through the scar on Harry's forehead. He instinctively ducked his head, the pain forcing his eyes shut.

Scattered, lukewarm applause filled the hall. Most students took Muggle Studies simply to boost their grades and paid little attention to who taught it. As for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the position had become something of a running joke; Hogwarts hadn't had a competent professor in years. The class had devolved into a purely theoretical course where wands were rarely, if ever, used.

The older students, however, were waiting for something else. They leaned forward, their hands clasped, their eyes fixed on Dumbledore.

"Furthermore," the Headmaster continued, "as Professor Kettleburn's health is no longer suited for teaching, we have invited another wizard, one renowned in the field of magical creatures, to take his place."

Dumbledore surveyed the room, his gaze finally settling on Evans, a broad smile on his face.

"Let us welcome Professor Evans Kahn!"

A beat of silence, and then the hall exploded. The applause began with the older students, but what truly shocked Harry was the reaction from the Slytherin table. Their clapping was thunderous, fervent, their palms turning red from the force. It was so intense it spurred the rest of the school to join in, the roar of applause echoing through the Great Hall.

A Gryffindor senior sitting nearby saw the commotion and had to lower his head, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Other older students weren't even trying to hide it, clutching their stomachs as they leaned on the tables, roaring with mirth.

"Is Professor Kahn famous?" Harry asked again, finally certain that the strange atmosphere was centered around his new professor. But the man looked so young. What could he have possibly done to cause such a reaction?

"You know Professor Kahn?" Percy asked, looking surprised. He hesitated, then shook his head. "It's nothing. Just a small matter."

"Small matter?" A red head suddenly popped out from behind Percy.

"Doesn't look like it to me!" Another identical head appeared on his other side, trapping the prefect between them.

"Tell us, please?" the twins said in unison.

Flustered, Percy waved his hands, inadvertently flashing his Prefect badge. "No! I'm a Prefect, I can't…"

"Ah! Mr. Weasley is going to use his Prefect's privilege!"

"Are you going to give us detention, Mr. Weasley? I'm so scared!"

Fred and George goaded him until his face turned as red as his hair.

"Fine! I'll tell, alright?"

Grinning, the twins stepped back.

"Ahem," Percy began, looking uncomfortable in his new role as storyteller. "Most of the details I heard from the older students, so there might be some inaccuracies. That year, I was still a first-year at Hogwarts…"

Later that evening, Evans returned to his small house by the forest, his two companions in tow. He lit the kerosene lamp on his desk and carefully placed the two items he'd received from the seal on the table. It was late, but not yet his bedtime. Studying interesting things always helped him sleep.

He closed his eyes, crossing his hands before him. A few seconds later, when he opened them again, his pupils were completely black, the sclera having vanished along with them. His vision transformed. The world became a thick mist, the outlines of objects replaced by a brilliant, deep blue light. That light was emanating from the black, cicada-wing-thin cloak on the table, a beacon that dominated his sight.

"Such dense magic," Evans sighed, a hint of regret in his voice. The cloak's magical fluctuation was intense, but it was a single, uniform color. It wasn't a living thing. At most, it was a magical item crafted from the body of a Lethifold.

Closing his eyes and opening them again, his vision returned to normal. He picked up the cloak, carefully sensing the magic within. He had already read the parchment, but he couldn't verify the research without a living specimen. To be honest, if the manuscript hadn't so explicitly described the Lethifold's appearance, habits, and anatomy, he would have dismissed the creature as an urban legend.

Still, he did find something interesting. As he infused magic into the cloak, it floated up without a breeze and settled onto his shoulders, adjusting to fit him perfectly. As soon as he put it on, he felt a strange new sensation, as if his body was constantly emitting a subtle, silent signal. The signal carried no information, but it brought something back on its return journey, like a bat's echolocation.

It brought back only one piece of information: there were no similar creatures nearby.

Realizing this, Evans couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, his expression turning strange.

"So, this is a Lethifold detector?"

(End of Chapter)

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