The wind howled like a banshee off the coast of Worthing, driving a torrential downpour that threatened to swallow the world in a fury of rain and sea. The ocean itself, whipped into a churning monster by the storm, clawed at the shore, devouring everything it touched.
No sane person would venture out in such dreadful weather, yet two figures were making their way toward the isolated island just off the coast, their silhouettes stark against the violent night.
The first, a man of gigantic stature, was completely drenched. Rain and seawater sluiced off his tangled beard and heavy coat, his small pink umbrella proving utterly useless against the storm's relentless assault.
The young man beside him, however, remained almost perfectly dry. An invisible shield seemed to hover just above his head, deflecting the deluge. Only a few stray drops dared to splash against the leather of his suitcase.
"Thanks for comin' to help me, Evans," the giant rumbled, his voice a deep bass note under the storm's shriek.
"It's no problem, Hagrid." Evans stifled a yawn, his gaze fixed on the dilapidated stone house perched precariously on the rock ahead. A strange, electric feeling stirred within him. His past and his present were about to collide. In moments, he would meet the boy famous in two worlds.
That's right—two worlds. Evans was not a native to this one. He had awakened here over twenty years ago in an orphanage, a soul from another life dropped into mid-20th-century Britain. His initial plan had been to use his future knowledge to build a business empire, but an unexpected letter from Hogwarts on his eleventh birthday had shattered that reality.
He'd arrived in an era just before the main story he vaguely remembered. In his previous life, his knowledge of Harry Potter came from fragmented visions, like watching a film in bits and pieces, leaving him with only a hazy outline of the main plot.
Fortunately, his own unique gift had served him well, guiding him through his years as a student at Hogwarts.
Evans glanced down at his suitcase. As if feeling his gaze, the latch clicked open. A fluffy, blue-and-yellow head popped out, its large, round eyes blinking up at him. It was a Diricawl, a bird Muggles believed to be the long-extinct Dodo.
"Good evening, Alice. Still awake?" Evans murmured.
"Coo!" The bird chirped, seemingly annoyed by the persistent rain. With a soft pop, it vanished, and the suitcase latch snapped shut as if it had never opened.
Evans drew his gaze back to the shack. From the moment he'd first stepped into the magical world, he'd discovered his uncanny knack: a natural, profound affinity for magical creatures. This connection allowed him to earn their trust with ease. And whenever a creature truly befriended him, he would be blessed with a portion of its innate abilities. As their bond deepened, so too did the power he gained.
He'd first realized it at the end of his first year, after earning the friendship of Alice. He had suddenly gained her ability for short-distance Apparition, a skill that worked even within the anti-Apparition wards of Hogwarts. As his collection of creature-given abilities grew, even the pure-blood snobs in his house, who had once sneered at his lineage, started treating him with a cautious, almost fearful respect.
His years at Hogwarts had been enjoyable, for the most part. His only regret was that, even by graduation, he had never fully unraveled the secrets of the Forbidden Forest. He had his dear Head of House to thank for that, of course. Professor Snape's constant interference had slowed his exploration by at least half.
But now, four years after graduating, that dream was finally within reach. Tucked in his breast pocket was an appointment letter from Hogwarts. He was to be the new Professor for the Care of Magical Creatures. He could finally, freely, explore the largest and most mysterious magical creature sanctuary in all of Britain.
Being a professor, however, came with immediate duties. The Headmaster had already put him to work.
"Can't we just go in and give him the letter?" Evans asked, his expression pained as he looked at the torrential downpour. "You've been chasing them for days. Surely you've had enough of this game?"
"No, no, no, Evans," Hagrid said, his bearded face turning solemn as he tried to pat down his wild hair. "We can only visit once we've confirmed Harry can't reply before the thirty-first of July. And Professor Dumbledore said to be as polite as possible to the Dursleys."
Evans's mouth twitched. "...I don't think chasing them across the country like a phantom is particularly polite." He recalled the letters Hagrid had described stuffing into egg cartons and sending down chimneys. Receiving mysterious, magically appearing letters with real-time address updates felt less like a friendly invitation and more like a prelude to a curse. It was no wonder the family was terrified.
"Hmph. They dared to treat Harry like that. They'll have to pay a price," Hagrid grumbled, then checked his pocket watch. "Time's almost up. Let's go! Oh, by the way, you have the cake, right?"
"Do you want me to give it to you now?"
"Of course—"
BOOM!
A bolt of lightning, thick as a tree trunk, struck the sea nearby, illuminating the scene in a blinding flash of white.
"...On second thought, you hold on to it," Hagrid muttered, eyeing the increasingly heavy rain. "I can't repel water like you can."
With nothing more said, the two walked to the stone door. A perfunctory knock yielded no answer. Evans drew his wand.
"Alohomora."
The lock clicked, and the door swung open to a torrent of angry shouts. Hagrid's attempt at a 'polite conversation' with the Dursleys dissolved into a shouting match almost instantly. While Hagrid seemed to be enjoying the argument, Evans decided to use the opportunity for a different introduction.
He spotted him in the corner of the room. A small, thin boy with startling blue-green eyes watched the chaos timidly, a faint, lightning-shaped scar just visible on his forehead beneath a mess of black hair.
Looking at that face, Evans felt his own blurred memories sharpen. It was the same face from his past life's visions.
He moved toward the boy, his steps silent. "Hello, Boy-Who-Lived," he said, his voice a calm counterpoint to the raging storm and Hagrid's booming voice. "My name is Evans Kahn. I'll be your Care of Magical Creatures professor."
He tipped his hat, offering a charming smile. With an elegant flick of his wrist, an exquisite chocolate cake appeared in his hand, the words "Happy Birthday" written in green icing.
"Happy birthday."
"Evans! That's the cake I bought!" Hagrid roared, momentarily distracted from his tirade.
"I'll get you another one," Evans replied smoothly, not taking his eyes off the stunned boy.
"You—"
"Who in blazes are you people!" the large, purple-faced man shrieked. "Get out of my house! GET OUT!"
Miles away, in the calm of Hogwarts, the Headmaster's office welcomed a much less pleased guest.
"Ah, Severus," Albus Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling over his half-moon spectacles. "Care for a fresh glass of pumpkin juice?"
"No," Professor Snape snarled, his black robes billowing as he glided to the desk like a phantom. His face was a thunderous mask. "You're recalling Evans Kahn to be a professor? And you sent him to collect Lily's child?"
Dumbledore set down his cup, his expression becoming serious, though the firelight still danced in his eyes. "I must correct you on one point, Severus. Evans is merely assisting Hagrid out of friendship, to ensure the journey is without incident."
"Yes, friendship," Snape sneered, his lip curling. "He certainly reserves his friendship for his... menagerie." He leaned forward, planting his hands on the polished desk. "I do not believe bringing Evans Kahn and his army of beasts back to this school is a wise decision."
"Why not?" Dumbledore asked, his smile gentle. "Evans promised me he would keep any... particularly unruly creatures elsewhere."
This only seemed to deepen the scowl on Snape's face. "And I suppose the place he keeps them isn't the Forbidden Forest?"
A brief silence filled the office as both men considered the possibility. Unlike Snape, however, the corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched, as if he were trying very hard to suppress a laugh.
After a long moment, he spoke softly. "You should trust in the boy's abilities, Severus. He is the most gifted Care of Magical Creatures master I could find. Professor Kettleburn has suffered enough injuries for one lifetime; let us not trouble his old bones any further."
"Ability," Snape repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, yes. This 'gifted' student's abilities are legendary. He kept the American and Egyptian Ministries of Magic on high alert for four years straight. Since his graduation, I have read no fewer than twenty reports of 'missing' endangered magical creatures from foreign sanctuaries, including a Hebridean Black!"
"The protest letters could paper the walls of this office!"
Dumbledore merely stirred his pumpkin juice. "And yet, I have not seen a single substantiated accusation. Those are all just rumors. Besides, that dragon was returned to its sanctuary very quickly, was it not?"
"Rumors?" Snape's voice rose, his face so dark it seemed to suck the light from the room. "Must he drop a Ukrainian Ironbelly at your feet before you believe it? He is a Slytherin!"
"And yet, the Sorting Hat deliberated for nearly ten minutes before placing him," Dumbledore countered softly. "It believed he would do just as well in Hufflepuff. Or perhaps Ravenclaw, given he was the first wizard to ever successfully cast a spell using a creature's innate magic."
Snape looked as if he wanted to argue further, but Dumbledore raised a hand, his clear blue eyes holding a profound depth. "Severus, I trust his love for these creatures. That is something one cannot fake. They are very different from one another, are they not?"
Snape fell silent. Finally, defeated, he turned on his heel and swept from the office. Just before the door closed behind him, he left a single, parting remark.
"There is something profoundly... inhuman... about that man."
(End of Chapter)
***
(End of Chapter)
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