Chapter 54: Is the Homework for Me?
"Do you think this assignment is too long?"
Douglas paused thoughtfully.
"Very well. Let's adjust the requirement."
"The essay must be at least two feet long. One is twenty inches, the other is two feet. No need to thank me."
The classroom fell silent.
Then the students collectively collapsed into despair.
"Oh no, Professor—you can't!"
"Professor, the problem is the unit!"
Douglas's expression turned cold.
"So now you're bargaining with me over homework?"
He shook his head with exaggerated disappointment.
"Is this assignment for me?"
"Class dismissed."
Just as Douglas turned to leave, he noticed the class representative and the prefect limping toward the door.
He stopped them.
"You don't even know the counter-spell for the Jelly-Legs Jinx?"
"You're practicing the Shield Charm, yet you haven't learned how to break the jinx itself?"
He shook his head.
"I don't want to see the entire class limping out of the room after the next lesson."
With a flick of his wand, the confiscated pile of books rose into the air and floated away with him.
Outside the Classroom
When the Ravenclaw fifth-years stepped into the corridor, they felt as if the air itself had suddenly become lighter.
Ahead of them, the Gryffindor second-years were approaching for their Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
Most of them were carrying one—or several—books written by Professor Holmes.
The Ravenclaw students exchanged knowing glances.
Then, with suspicious enthusiasm, they began chatting loudly.
"Oh Merlin, Professor Holmes is so kind! He signed autographs for us right at the beginning of class!"
"Yes! As long as you go up to the podium yourself, he'll sign your book. It's amazing!"
The Gryffindor second-years passed them with bright smiles.
None of them even noticed the Ravenclaws walking away behind them.
A warm sense of happiness filled their hearts.
Especially those who owned copies of Professor Holmes's books.
Even the students without books had a plan—
They would simply ask the friendly and approachable professor to sign the first page of their textbooks.
Surely he wouldn't mind.
After all, how bad could the class possibly be?
If only they knew what the Ravenclaw students had just endured.
A Difficult Morning
The second-years' first lesson that day had been Herbology with the Hufflepuffs.
And somehow—no one knew why—Professor Sprout had decided to make things difficult.
She had ordered every student to memorize all the information about Mandrakes before the next class.
Not only that, they were required to prepare each lesson in advance.
During class she would randomly select students to recite the material.
Anyone who failed would cost their House points.
Many of the Gryffindors already felt exhausted from spending their spare time memorizing the Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook.
Now another subject demanded the same effort.
Their shoulders drooped.
Several students glanced toward Neville.
Did this mean they had to start getting up before dawn like him—sitting in the common room memorizing textbooks every morning?
The Second-Year Defence Class
Despite their worries, the Gryffindor students entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom in high spirits.
Hermione placed the books she had brought carefully on her desk.
She was determined to be the first to reach the podium when Professor Holmes arrived.
She had both versions of his work—
The wizarding-world edition and the Muggle edition.
Hermione still couldn't believe that Professor Holmes had written both versions simultaneously.
And each was equally brilliant.
As she arranged the books, she thought eagerly:
Maybe I should ask the professor which level of magical power he belongs to.
Intermediate? Advanced? Wizard-level?
Surely not Grand Magister… otherwise Professor Dumbledore would have to be the God of Magic.
Or perhaps she should simply ask him to sign every book first.
Before she could decide—
Footsteps echoed down the staircase connected to the side door.
Chapter 58: Harry — I'm Almost Done Apologizing to Professor Snape
Douglas stepped onto the podium.
In front of him stood a young witch—Hermione—and behind her an entire line of eager students.
All holding books.
He blinked in confusion.
Hermione spoke first, practically vibrating with excitement.
"Professor—Professor, could you please sign these books for me?"
"I absolutely love your stories! Both the Muggle and wizarding editions."
"And… I also wanted to ask—according to the magic ranking system in your books, what level of wizard would you say you are?"
Douglas finally recognized her.
Hermione Granger.
Ah. So it's her.
He had nearly been frightened to death the previous night in Dumbledore's office.
Still, he admired her courage.
Typical Gryffindor bravery.
The Ravenclaw fifth-years had merely whispered their trap in the corridor.
But this girl had charged straight to the podium.
Douglas smiled kindly.
"Don't worry, Miss Granger. Please place your books on the desk first."
"And the rest of you—put your books here as well."
After a flurry of excited shuffling and pushing, the students piled their books onto the desk.
Douglas looked down at the mountain of volumes.
…Wait.
Where were the textbooks?
The Mood Changes
The second-years were about to discover something important about human nature.
A moment earlier, Professor Holmes had looked warm and approachable.
Now he slowly curled his lips into a cold smile.
The students instinctively stiffened.
A chill crept down their spines.
"Heh."
"What do you think my classroom is?"
"A book-signing event?"
He pointed at Hermione.
"Charging straight to the podium without permission."
"Miss Granger—ten points from Gryffindor."
Before Douglas could continue, Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.
"Professor, it isn't Hermione's fault!"
"The Ravenclaw seniors told us to do it!"
Douglas raised an eyebrow.
"Mr. Potter."
"I believe I said that students should raise their hands if they have questions."
"Five more points from Gryffindor."
"Mr. Weasley, don't pull him down. Let him stand."
Harry clenched his fists stubbornly.
Hermione turned and whispered urgently for him to calm down.
Douglas stepped down from the podium and approached Harry slowly.
"Then tell me, Mr. Potter."
"What exactly did those seniors say that made you forget classroom discipline?"
Harry hesitated before answering.
"In the corridor, we heard them saying that if we brought our books to the podium first… you would…"
His voice trailed off.
Something suddenly felt wrong.
Harry remembered that the Ravenclaw fifth-years had been carrying only textbooks—not the professor's novels.
Maybe Professor Holmes had simply confiscated their books and planned to sign them later.
Maybe Hermione had misunderstood.
Douglas noticed Harry's voice growing quieter.
If he remembered correctly, Harry had once rushed to the Ministry of Magic after believing false information from Voldemort.
That impulsive decision had cost Sirius Black his life.
Believe rumors. Act recklessly.
Douglas decided that perhaps Harry needed to learn this lesson early.
Maybe it would even prevent that tragedy someday.
He spoke calmly.
"So—you realize your mistake?"
Harry nodded, looking ashamed.
"I'm sorry, Professor. I shouldn't have—"
Douglas waved his hand, cutting him off.
"Is simply admitting you're wrong enough?"
"We must learn from our mistakes."
"When you hear information, you should verify its truth before acting."
"Not behave like a reckless lion charging forward."
He paused.
"What's wrong, Mr. Potter?"
Harry was staring at him with wide green eyes.
Green eyes.
For the first time, Douglas noticed that Harry's eyes were almost the exact same shade as his own.
Harry blinked and asked hesitantly:
"Professor… have you almost finished apologizing to Professor Snape?"
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