Just as everyone was enjoying breakfast, a flurry of owls swept into the Great Hall like a living storm.
Students scrambled to grab whatever food they could, stuffing it into their mouths before owl feathers started raining down.
Hermione deftly caught a copy of the Daily Prophet tossed to her by an owl and began to read without missing a beat.
Ron glanced around, only releasing his death grip on the milk jug when he realized his family's owl hadn't shown up.
He exclaimed in surprise,
"Hermione, you actually subscribe to the Daily Prophet?"
Hermione, eyes still fixed on the paper, replied,
"If Harry wants to keep up with his mission, he needs to stay on top of everything happening in the wizarding world—especially news about Sirius Black.
The front page is all about Professor Holmes."
Ron leaned in eagerly,
"That photo's huge—what does the article say?"
Hermione skimmed the page, then read aloud for the group:
"'The new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor—could it really be him?
According to reports, this term's Defence Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts will once again be filled by Douglas Holmes, last year's professor.
He's the first person in decades to hold the position for a second year—some even say he's the most brilliant Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in recent memory.
Dumbledore wrote to clarify: There's never been a curse—we must believe in magic...'"
Harry whispered,
"Why does that sound exactly like something my uncle would say?"
Ron nodded, completely agreeing.
The whole article detailed Douglas's previous exploits, but never explained why he was reappointed.
Hermione flipped to the second page, spotted a large photo of Sirius Black, and snorted,
"The Ministry's still after him? At this point, I wonder if he's not already halfway across the world..."
She kept reading, finding a cluster of smaller headlines:
"Eight Truths About Hogwarts' First-Ever Returning Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor—How Many Do You Know?""Have You Heard About the New Defence Professor? All the Young Wizards Are Talking!""Why Is There a New Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor? Here's the Full Story!"
Hermione glanced through them, then sighed,
"It's all just empty speculation—nothing with any real evidence.
Looks like today's paper is all about the professor, but there's nothing substantial."
She carefully folded the front page with Douglas's photo and set it aside, handing the rest to Harry and Ron, who immediately dove in, eager to read every word.
Hermione stood, lowering her voice as she addressed them,
"I don't think you should waste your time on these. When you get a chance, check the library for old papers from ten years ago or so—you might find something about Sirius."
Ron looked surprised.
"What about you?"
Hermione grabbed a bun, her tone exasperated,
"I've already split myself into three—don't expect me to make a fourth. Got a problem with that?"
Ron shook his head quickly.
Harry's eyes lingered on the article, feeling a surge of pride at one line:
His uncle really was the best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor in decades.
Just then, a furious shout erupted from the Hufflepuff table:
"Nonsense! Absolute rubbish! There's no way Professor Holmes is an impostor...!"
The outburst caught Hermione's attention just as she was leaving the hall, and Harry hurried after her.
When he caught up, he saw Hermione holding a copy of The Quibbler.
He knew its editor was Luna's father—Luna, the Ravenclaw who'd won Hogwarts' Special Services Award last year. Ever since The Quibbler had published a story edition, it had become quite popular among students.
A group of Hufflepuffs glared angrily at the Ravenclaw table, but Luna appeared unbothered, reading her Quibbler upside down with great concentration.
Hermione finished reading, gave a disdainful little snort, and turned to leave.
Curious, Harry borrowed the magazine and flipped through the article. It claimed that the current Professor Holmes was a fake—someone from the Ministry had ambushed the real one, then used Polyjuice Potion to impersonate him, all to secretly control Hogwarts...
Harry couldn't help but laugh. He was absolutely certain his uncle at Hogwarts wasn't an impostor—certainly not a Ministry stooge. After all, when Harry had stayed at Douglas's flat, he'd practiced spells freely (using Douglas's spare wand), and the Ministry had never caught on.
He suspected Hermione had realized the same thing, which explained her dismissive attitude toward the article.
After finishing, Harry returned the magazine with a reassuring smile,
"Don't worry about it. That sort of thing just isn't possible.
But—what's Polyjuice Potion?"
From across the table, a handsome, sunny boy grinned,
"I don't believe anyone could ambush Professor Holmes—unless it was Dumbledore himself.
Polyjuice Potion's a brew that lets you take on someone else's appearance. It's a long, complicated process, and you have to keep taking it to maintain the disguise..."
Harry recognized him as Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff's Quidditch Seeker, and quickly thanked him.
—
First Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the term.
The fifth-year Ravenclaws had arrived early, filling the room with excited chatter.
Last year's class rep, Eddie Carmichael, tried to quiet everyone down, but no one listened.
A girl sneered,
"We don't even know who this year's class rep will be..."
Eddie's face flushed red, but he was at a loss for words. After all, this was uncharted territory for Hogwarts—who could say if he'd still be class rep when the professor had actually returned for a second year?
Soon, Douglas entered, looking just as he had last year, a stack of parchment in hand.
He scanned the room, then smiled,
"It's wonderful to see you all again for a new term.
Congratulations on reaching fifth year—the start of your O.W.L.S. journey.
This term is the prelude to dawn, the voice of the heavens, the drums of battle, the call to arms.
I hope you'll all make a solemn promise: as we sprint toward the O.W.L.S., every one of us will give our all, fight with determination, and achieve the kind of results that will let us meet again in sixth year..."
The students broke into enthusiastic applause, exchanging glances with one another.
They'd spent ages preparing for this first class—asking older students, even memorizing the history and significance of the O.W.L.S.—all in hopes that Professor Holmes would ask,
"Now that you're in fifth year, do you know what the greatest challenge ahead is?"
But his opening lines weren't the same as last year's! How were they supposed to respond? All they could do was clap and cheer awkwardly...
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