HP: Too Late, System! I’m Already the DADA Professor

When Douglas pushed open the door, he caught sight of Professor McGonagall just reaching the top step. But what truly drew his eye was Peeves, hovering not far behind her.

"Heh, Peeves, it's been years—missed me, have you?"

As he spoke, his wand slipped instinctively from his sleeve into his hand.

Peeves let out a piercing shriek.

"Murder! The ghost killer's back—run for your afterlife!"

With a resounding bang!, Peeves vanished.

Professor McGonagall looked exasperated. She turned first to Mr. Filch and several Prefects who had come running at the commotion.

"I'll take care of things here. You all may return to your duties."

Then she turned to Douglas with a sigh.

"Douglas, must you antagonize Peeves every time? He's actually rather respectful to the staff… well, he's just a bit too mischievous, that's all…"

Douglas grinned, tucking away his wand.

"Sorry, Professor. Pure reflex. You know how much Peeves hates me—nothing good ever comes of him showing up in front of me."

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"Douglas, you do realize you're a professor now, don't you…"

In the corner, cowering under McGonagall's formidable presence, the Weasley twins stared at each other in shock.

"Remember what Bill said?"

"'Peeves isn't scary at all!'"

"Charlie too…"

"'Poor Peeves!'"

"Didn't Percy always say Peeves hated him most?"

"I thought Peeves was on our side!"

"Farewell to lowbrow pranks—down with the phony!"

"Tsk, tsk, maybe Peeves is…"

"…the enemy of our enemy?"

Inside the office, Harry and Ron unconsciously grabbed handfuls of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, munching as they peered through the crack in the door, eyes wide at the unfolding drama.

When they heard the exchange between Professor McGonagall and Professor Holmes, they shot each other a look of utter disbelief.

Just as George and Fred were whispering to each other, McGonagall's gaze landed on them—paralyzing as a Full Body-Bind Curse.

Through the door, Harry and Ron caught the edge of that glare and instantly ducked their heads, dropping their beans and burying themselves in their notebooks.

Professor McGonagall lifted her chin, her voice as sharp as a whip.

"Mr. Weasley, cheating? Care to explain yourselves?"

George and Fred looked pleadingly at Douglas, but McGonagall intercepted their glances.

"Don't look at anyone else. Remember, I am the Head of Gryffindor House."

The twins wilted.

"Yes, Professor."

"That's right, Professor…"

"Why did you cheat?" she pressed, her tone icy.

Pressed flat against the wall, the twins replied in perfect unison, barely above a whisper:

"Because we're not allowed to cheat during exams…"

For a moment, not only McGonagall, but even Douglas—normally so unflappable—was left speechless.

So, because cheating isn't allowed in exams, you think you can cheat in Defence Against the Dark Arts dictation? Who are you trying to fool?

McGonagall's roar shook the corridor—Douglas was sure the entire castle could hear:

"Cheating! And you're not even ashamed! Gryffindor, minus one hundred points!"

No sooner had she finished than the hourglasses by the entrance hall drained Gryffindor's rubies once more. Anyone counting would have seen Ravenclaw in first place, Hufflepuff in second.

Douglas tried to interject.

"Professor, surely that's a bit much—"

McGonagall shot him a stern look.

"Professor Holmes, I expect you to remember your role. Next time this happens, deduct house points yourself and punish them thoroughly. Hogwarts does not tolerate cheating."

She turned back to the twins.

"Mr. Weasley, by the end of this school year, you are to earn back every single point you've lost. Hmph! If you haven't made up the difference by then, I'm afraid you'll be repeating third year. As Head of Gryffindor, I believe that's within my rights!"

With that, she cast a glance through the door at Ron and Harry, who were still hiding behind their notebooks but sneaking sideways peeks.

Then she swept away without another word.

From the shadows, Mr. Filch—who had been eavesdropping with glee—stroked Mrs. Norris and muttered regretfully,

"I still say only the chains and whips in the dungeons would teach those two a proper lesson…"

Douglas gave the twins a cold snort.

"Carry on. If you don't finish memorizing tonight, you won't be sleeping."

Once he disappeared inside, George and Fred looked utterly miserable.

"George, that's two hundred house points gone!"

"Yeah, losing points is easy. But how are we supposed to earn them back—besides Quidditch?"

An hour later, when Harry and Ron's detention ended, they stepped out of the warm office to find George and Fred sniffling in the cold, hands shoved up their sleeves, hunched over the corridor pillars, still copying lines.

Ron pulled a face at the twins, then, brimming with excitement, dragged Harry toward the Gryffindor common room—he couldn't wait to share tonight's spectacle with the rest of the house.

—

The next morning, Douglas sent his latest manuscript chapter off to Mr. Slane. He also wrote to request an order of seven Nimbus 2001s as a gift for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

He had to admit, Slane's efficiency was unmatched.

Later, as Douglas patrolled the practical classroom, he spotted an ecstatic Hufflepuff student squeezing through the crowded corridor. The student hurried over to Cedric, whispered something while pointing at Douglas, and watched as Cedric's eyes went as wide as Galleons.

Under the curious stares of his classmates, Cedric shouted,

"Professor Holmes, you're incredible!"

Then, grinning from ear to ear, he dashed off toward the Hufflepuff common room.

Douglas just smiled, saying nothing.

After a quick lunch, Douglas treated himself to a rare afternoon nap. When he awoke, he set off alone for Hogsmeade.

Along the way, plenty of older students greeted him. Some girls giggled and whispered as he passed.

Walking these familiar paths, Douglas felt a pang of loneliness. Everything looked the same, but it all felt different.

Hogsmeade—the only all-wizard village in Britain—was founded by Hengist of Woodcroft. Third years and above could visit on weekends with parental permission. The streets bustled with shops and pubs.

Back in the day, Douglas had come here almost every week with Bill and Charlie. He knew most of the shopkeepers by name.

The proprietress of Honeydukes spotted him and beamed, pressing a generous handful of sweets into his hand.

"Congratulations, Douglas! It's been ages. The moment I heard you'd become a Hogwarts Professor, I told Ambrosius we should send you a box of sweets to celebrate! He's in the storeroom just now, or he'd insist on sharing a drink with you."

Once, in pursuit of "common prosperity," Douglas had roped Bill and Charlie into making ginger candies, dragon's beard candy, and winter melon sweets. They'd sold them through Honeydukes, before finally selling the recipes to the owners for fifty Galleons—a fair price, since the methods were simple and easy to copy. Their friendship had lasted ever since.

Douglas accepted the gift with a grin and apologized,

"Sorry, I'm expected at Professor McGonagall's afternoon tea. Next time, I'll be sure to have a proper drink with Uncle Flume!"

When he passed Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, Douglas hurried by, not wanting to risk being hailed. Years ago, curiosity had led him and long-haired Bill there for tea, and by evening, wild rumors were flying around Hogwarts about "Hufflepuff's Holmes" dating a mysterious red-haired woman.

Even after the truth came out—and the Slytherin behind the gossip was forced to apologize—Madam Puddifoot never missed a chance to tease them about it.

Now that he was a professor, the last thing he needed was for old rumors to resurface. This time, nobody knew Bill, and there certainly wasn't a Slytherin willing to take the blame.

~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~

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