"Turn around, child." The old man's voice was calm, betraying neither pleasure nor anger.
At the same time, Morris quickly calculated his chances of escaping now.
Given his presence here at this hour, the old man before him was most likely a Hogwarts professor.
He was not confident he could escape from a professor.
Besides, his face might already have been seen clearly.
So Morris obediently turned around.
What rotten luck, running into something like this on his very first trip into the Restricted Section.
He discreetly sized up the old man before him.
The man was smiling at him with an expression of keen interest.
"No need to be so nervous, child," the old man beckoned to Morris and said cheerfully. "Come a little closer. I can promise I won't tell anyone you were here tonight."
His tone sounded as though he were coaxing a lost child.
"Thank you, sir," Morris replied politely, taking a few steps forward.
It seemed he had encountered a generous professor.
Had it been Professor McGonagall, he would probably have already lost fifty points and earned a month's detention.
He felt a little more at ease, but still dared not relax completely.
The old man before him looked kind, but his presence in the Restricted Section at this hour was unusual in itself.
"Very good. Very polite." The old man nodded in satisfaction and closed the book in his hands. "Now, let's get down to business. You must be a first-year. What brings you to the basement of the Restricted Section in the middle of the night?"
His question was direct.
Morris's answer was just as direct.
"I'm simply curious about the contents of the books here, sir."
At this, the old man looked Morris up and down. "Ravenclaw? Or Gryffindor? I think it must be the former. Also, tell me your name."
Morris answered honestly, "Morris Black, a first-year in Ravenclaw."
There was no longer any point in concealing his information.
"Oh! I guessed right! Ravenclaw!" The old man's eyes lit up, and he leaned forward slightly. "You probably don't know me. I'm Silvanus Kettleburn. Just call me Professor Kettleburn. But if you like, you can call me Silv too, haha."
"Sorry, Professor Kettleburn, what do you teach?"
Morris had never heard of anyone like him at Hogwarts before.
"Care of Magical Creatures!" Pride filled Professor Kettleburn's voice, before he shrugged. "Unfortunately, little first-years can't take my class yet. You'll have to wait until your third year."
Morris noticed that his left hand looked unnatural. It was a prosthesis.
Noticing Morris's gaze fall on his left arm, Professor Kettleburn made no attempt to hide it. Instead, he laughed heartily.
He raised his arm between them and explained, "Seven years ago, a young Hebridean Black Dragon carried this arm of mine off in its jaws."
"But don't worry. She's doing very well on the reserve now. I heard she even became a mother last year."
Looking at the broadly smiling Professor Kettleburn, Morris did not know what to say.
Surely you're the one we should be worried about, not the dragon, Professor.
He steadied himself and said cautiously, "Speaking of which, Professor, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be in the Restricted Section at this hour. Is the library always open to professors?"
Professor Kettleburn paused at that. "What time is it?"
"About half past midnight."
Following Morris's reply, Professor Kettleburn fell silent for a moment, a trace of embarrassment crossing his face-even if he was a professor, Madam Pince probably would not look kindly on him staying here at this hour.
Getting too absorbed in things had its drawbacks.
It looks like there's some special reason, Morris thought, but did not press him.
His gaze returned to the book in Professor Kettleburn's hands.
Under the dim light, the title on the cover gleamed faintly:
"How to dissect a Crup in the most sensible way (with illustrations)"
Morris read the title aloud without thinking.
Judging by the title, it seemed... a little more ordinary than he had imagined?
It sounded like some sort of veterinary book.
To his mind, that did not fit the style of the Restricted Section. He had thought the books here would be a little more vicious and brutal.
Still, he was quite interested, because he happened to have a Crup skeleton.
That skeleton was still lying in his trunk, a collection of loose fragments he had yet to assemble.
He said to Professor Kettleburn, "Professor, that book in your hands... could I take a look? I'm very interested in Crups."
"Oh?" Professor Kettleburn looked a little surprised. "Can you tell me why you're interested?"
Morris had the distinct feeling that the professor before him was growing more enthusiastic.
It was like someone choosing a topic you knew extremely well while shooting the breeze with you.
Morris hesitated, then replied, "Over the summer holidays, I bought a model Crup skeleton. Unfortunately, what I received was a pile of bone fragments, and they didn't give me the corresponding diagrams."
A model skeleton?
Professor Kettleburn froze for a moment.
That really was a niche hobby.
And although he knew every aspect of the magical creature known as the Crup, he had never really studied its skeleton.
He handed the book to Morris. "There's a picture of a Crup skeleton at the very back of this book. It should serve as a reference. However..."
He paused. "I'd suggest you avoid reading the earlier sections for now."
The suggestion had no effect.
Morris took the book and casually flipped it open.
After a quick look through it, he finally understood why this book was in the Restricted Section.
Apart from a small amount of explanatory text, the book consisted almost entirely of moving pictures.
They recorded the entire process of someone dissecting a Crup's corpse, and the procedure was extremely rough.
It was indeed a little too graphic for a first-year student.
Fortunately, Morris was an adult, so it did not affect him.
He turned to the back and finally found the picture of the skeleton Professor Kettleburn had mentioned.
After a few brief glances, Morris tentatively concluded that he could assemble the skeleton with the help of this picture.
Then his gaze rapidly compared the diagram with the images of the fragments in his mind.
The curve of the skull, the number of cervical vertebrae, the way the thoracic vertebrae connected to the ribs, the distinctive angle of the pelvis...
"This is perfect!" he could not help exclaiming.
As Morris lost himself in it, Professor Kettleburn quietly observed him the whole time.
How should he put it? He felt this child was a little odd.
Most first-years, even Ravenclaws, ought to have gone pale with fright when faced with a forbidden book full of moving dissection illustrations.
But look at this child named Morris!
Like a small child receiving sweets, his eyes were practically shining!