After a while, once all the young witches and wizards had recovered from the initial shock of this brand-new world, Viktor smiled and spoke up.
"Alright, everyone. Over the next school year, we'll have plenty of time to explore and appreciate this world of magical creatures. So for now, let's bring our attention back to class."
As he spoke, Viktor casually sat down on the grass beneath him.
With a light flick of his wand, vines and blades of grass behind him wove together into a "wall."
Under a quick Transfiguration charm, the living green wall smoothed into a large blackboard patterned with faint vine and grass textures.
Seeing this, the students immediately followed suit—sitting cross-legged on the soft prairie grass.
"If you truly want to understand a subject, you need to know its origins and how it evolved. So… does anyone know what Magical Creature Protection used to be called?"
The question left the entire group blinking in confusion. They exchanged uncertain glances.
Clearly, this was beyond anything they'd ever been taught.
Professor Kettleburn's lessons had always focused on direct interaction—feeling the wonder of magical creatures up close, learning about the materials they naturally produced.
Theory? Aside from a frantic week of cramming right before final exams, they'd basically been doing practical work the whole time.
Viktor wasn't surprised by their blank looks.
Even he had only learned the old name from the deep archives of the Scamander family library.
"Looks like no one knows. Let me tell you, then. About a century and a half ago, this class was called Magical Creature Research."
The name alone made every student freeze.
They immediately understood the grim implication hidden behind those innocent-sounding words.
"Yes, exactly what you're thinking," Viktor continued quietly.
"Back then, students in that class were required to personally dissect and study a wide variety of magical creatures."
"And because it overlapped heavily with Ancient Runes, Alchemy, Potions, and several other advanced subjects, it was an elite course—only available to outstanding sixth- and seventh-years."
"Topics included—but were not limited to—extracting the natural runes embedded in certain creatures' bodies, performing targeted flesh alchemy, and harvesting specialised parts from living specimens."
"It was precisely this aggressive, extractive approach that, over the long history of the wizarding world, caused countless magical species to vanish forever."
"And the turning point came about a century and a half ago—when one particular creature, whose bodily fluids were a key ingredient in an extremely common wizarding potion, was finally driven to extinction."
As Viktor spoke, vivid animated scenes began to play across the blackboard behind him.
One after another, already-extinct magical creatures leapt and danced across the surface—beautiful, strange, and now forever gone.
"Wizards suddenly woke up," Viktor said, voice carrying a quiet weight.
"When the last Dream-Eater was killed and its feathers turned into quills, seventeen different potions related to memory, emotion, and magical contracts permanently lost their best medium."
On the board: colourful, dreamlike birds let out silent cries of despair.
One by one, bottles of glowing potions faded and went dark.
"Combined with the perfection of modern spellcraft, the standardisation of runes, the large-scale development of magical greenhouses, and many other factors…"
"After years of fierce debate, the International Confederation of Wizards passed the Fundamental Rights of Magical Creatures Act and officially renamed the course Magical Creature Protection."
"From that moment on, classes around the world began to shift—from research and exploitation… to protection."
"And to finding ways of obtaining the materials wizards need without harming the creatures themselves."
At those words, several students unconsciously reached into their pockets and touched their quills, expressions uneasy.
"I know what you're thinking," Viktor said, catching the shift in mood.
"You're wondering—isn't this hypocritical? We talk about protection while wearing dragon-hide gloves and using unicorn-hair wands?"
He stood, tapped his wand lightly.
The blackboard transformed again—this time into a slowly rotating set of scales.
On one side: wands, cauldrons, parchment.
On the other: living, vibrant magical creatures.
"Protection doesn't mean complete abstinence from use. It means sustainable, respectful coexistence. Just like we don't cut down an entire apple tree just to eat one apple. This is wisdom the wizarding world paid a terrible price to learn."
Viktor paused, letting his gaze sweep across every young face.
"And today, I'm going to show you one of the most outstanding modern examples of that wisdom—a species that was once pulled back from the very edge of extinction."
He turned toward the blackboard and drew a graceful arc with his wand.
A deep, dark opening appeared in its centre—like a tunnel leading into shadow.
"Now—stay quiet, and follow close. We're going to meet the Moonlight Velvet."
The students held their breath and stepped through the doorway after him.
It felt like walking down a short tunnel.
When light returned to their eyes—
They stood in a grove of softly glowing mushrooms, crossed a murmuring stream.
The air began to fill with tiny silver motes—like dandelion seeds made of moonlight.
The farther they walked, the thicker the motes became.
Finally they stopped in a clearing ringed by ancient towering trees.
In the centre, several soft, pearl-glowing "clouds" rose and fell gently with breathing.
When they opened their eyes, they revealed deep, tranquil black pools—like moonlit mountain lakes.
"Moonlight Velvet," Viktor said, voice almost a whisper.
"Their fur is the finest natural sedative ingredient. Once they were hunted almost to extinction. But now, thanks to coordinated efforts across seventeen protected reserves worldwide, their numbers have stabilised."
One of the bolder little Velvets hopped closer, curiously sniffing the hem of the nearest Hufflepuff's robe.
"How did we manage it?" Viktor continued—though he didn't wait for guesses.
He raised his wand.
"Skin-Shedding Charm."
An invisible wave washed over the nearest "cloud."
Soft tufts of luminous fur drifted down like snow.
The creature didn't even flinch. It simply looked… slightly thinner, nothing more.
"We cultivate specialised food for them. We craft ideal living environments. We protect them—and they, in turn, provide for us."
"This is the core principle modern Magical Creature Protection was built on: balanced symbiosis, not unilateral exploitation."
Viktor knelt and gently scooped the little Velvet into his arms, stroking its impossibly soft fur.
"So from today onward, what you're going to learn isn't just how wonderful, cute, or dangerous these creatures are."
"You're going to learn how to protect them—and how to guide that relationship."
The silver motes in the air seemed to brighten, drifting down to settle lightly on the students' shoulders and hair.
They gazed at the quiet, moonlit-glowing beings before them.