Not long after the phoenix Patronus vanished from the headmaster's office, Dumbledore smiled and said to Douglas:
"Douglas, I think it's time you went to find Minerva. If you stay much longer, she'll start suspecting we're having hot pot in the office again..."
Douglas glanced around, but saw no sign of a Hogwarts hot pot cauldron.
Dumbledore caught the look and shrugged, giving him that "Don't you know why?" sort of expression.
"You know, Severus drops by my office quite often. I'd rather not test a Potions Master's nerves..."
He even winked conspiratorially toward the upper floor.
Douglas got the message.
When he returned to Professor McGonagall's office, the box of pastries he'd brought had already been opened.
Professor McGonagall didn't look up from her paperwork as she commented,
"These are quite good! Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Albus has filled me in, so..."
For the first time, a faint smile broke through her usual sternness.
"Welcome aboard, Professor Holmes! I imagine Pomona—that's Professor Sprout, our Herbology teacher and Head of Hufflepuff—will be delighted when she hears."
Douglas returned her smile, polite and modest.
"It's only a temporary appointment for now, Professor. I'll be counting on your guidance and support."
Professor McGonagall nodded briskly and handed him a parchment.
"Of course. But first, take a look at this schedule. Since this is the only vacancy, all the other professors' classes are already set. Your teaching times are pretty much locked in.
If you ever need a substitute, you can ask Severus. I think he'd be delighted..."
Douglas accepted the schedule parchment with a broad grin.
The grin froze on his face as if he'd been hit with a Petrificus Totalus.
"Professor... The whole schedule? All of these are my classes?"
Professor McGonagall nodded, raising an eyebrow.
"Naturally. Oh, I nearly forgot—you've probably only seen the student version of the timetable. Professors aren't nearly as free as you might think..."
Suddenly, Douglas regretted not agreeing to Dumbledore's suggestion about having a co-professor.
Sensing a hint of skepticism in her tone, Douglas puffed up and declared,
"Merlin's beard, just look at this! I mean, our classes are so few!"
Professor McGonagall blinked, momentarily at a loss.
Seeing her confusion, Douglas pointed at the Defence Against the Dark Arts schedule and launched into his pitch.
"Professor, see here—our classes run from 8:30 in the morning to 4:45 in the afternoon. Apart from Astronomy at 11:00 p.m., we're barely using the rest of the day!
Back when I was a student, I always thought we could add morning study from 6:00 to 7:30 for reciting things like History of Magic. And in the evenings, we could—"
Professor McGonagall listened as Douglas grew more and more animated. At first, his ideas almost made sense. Then her expression turned dubious.
"Mr. Holmes, if I recall correctly, you weren't exactly a model of diligence as a student. You were late to Transfiguration nearly ten times alone."
Douglas coughed.
"Ahem, Professor, I believe I explained that..."
She arched an eyebrow.
"Yes, I remember. You were always busy cooking in the kitchens, fertilizing fruit trees, and—oh, right—growing your own vegetables.
Let's not forget, you once cast spells on several Ravenclaw girls over some fruit, which sparked a four-house brawl."
Douglas shrugged.
"Professor, you know—even though I got detention, I still don't think I was in the wrong..."
Seven years ago, back in third year, Douglas had—with Hagrid's help—started a small orchard by the forest. He'd tended it religiously, dawn to dusk.
One day, rushing over after class, he found a group of girls in Ravenclaw robes in the orchard. If they'd only eaten a few pieces, he wouldn't have minded—in fact, he might have used it as an excuse to get to know them.
But when he walked in, all he saw were broken branches and half-eaten, unripe fruit scattered everywhere.
One of the girls even laughed,
"Your apples and bananas are nowhere near as good as Hogwarts'!"
Maybe they meant no harm—maybe they just didn't know any better. But Douglas couldn't help himself. All that effort, trampled in a day.
Pointing at a bitten fruit on the ground, he snapped,
"Are Ravenclaws just a bunch of talking monkeys?"
They weren't monkeys, of course—they were witches, and they had wands.
They drew them instantly.
But Douglas wasn't so easily outmatched. He disarmed them, transfigured the broken branches into ropes, and tied them to the orchard fence.
Word spread fast at Hogwarts. Everyone had friends—or crushes—in other Houses.
In the end...
Gryffindor: 3 sent to the hospital wing.
Ravenclaw: 9 sent to the hospital wing.
Slytherin: 5 sent to the hospital wing.
Hufflepuff: 0.
Professor Sprout punished Douglas with a week of orchard labor—smiling all the while. The other three Heads were less amused, making every participant tend the fruit trees—without magic—for a whole term.
What really left them speechless was that Douglas later volunteered to supply fruit to the staff and prefects of every House, and the orchard became the official place for troublemakers to serve detention.
The conversation ended with Professor McGonagall reminding him she wouldn't interfere with other professors' teaching styles. Then, with no mercy, she told him the Floo Network connection was about to close.
If he didn't want to spend hours on the Knight Bus, he'd better use the fireplace now. After all, the Scottish Highlands were a long way from London. Even Dumbledore himself wouldn't Apparate that far unless he absolutely had to.
When Douglas stepped out of the fireplace, he was back home in Surrey.
"Scourgify!"
He cleaned the soot from his robes, then hurried down to the basement—his personal magical workshop.
Slumping into his armchair, he found a comfortable spot and called out,
"System? Scholar Development System?"
Suddenly, a wave of secondhand embarrassment washed over him.
[Scholar Development System]
[After each class, points are awarded based on student satisfaction, homework completion, classroom engagement...]
Satisfaction:
9+ points: 10 classes — 20 points
6–9 points: 10 classes — 10 points
Below 6: 0.5 points per class
Homework Completion:
...
Student Progress:
...
Classroom Engagement:
...
[Total Points]
Student Satisfaction:
0 classes above 9 points, earned 0 points
0 classes 6–9 points, earned 0 points
0 classes below 6, earned 0 points
Homework Completion:
...
Student Progress:
...
Classroom Engagement:
...
Teacher Comprehensive Monthly Evaluation: 0 points, earned 0 points
(Monthly evaluation above 9: 1000 points reward
6–9: 500 points reward
Below 6: –300 points penalty
Monthly evaluation includes teaching routine, methods, effectiveness, professionalism, attendance)
Year-End Exam Evaluation:
Excellent: 0 students, earned 0 points
Pass (including good and satisfactory): 0 students, earned 0 points
Fail (including poor, very poor, abysmal): 0 students, earned 0 points
(Excellent: 1000 points per student, Pass: 500 points per student, Fail: –300 points per student)
[Shop unlocks at 10,000 points.]
...
[Host is afflicted by an unknown curse. It will activate in one year. You may remove it by spending 10,000 points!]
"A curse? Ten thousand points?!"
Still reeling from the information overload, Douglas was jolted by the flashing red warning in his mind.
With the system's explanation and the schedule Professor McGonagall had given him, he did some quick math. One academic year meant over 190 teaching days, with about seven classes each day. That was over 1,300 classes. Even if he was the perfect teacher and scored 9+ on every metric, he'd barely scrape together 10,000 points by the end of the year.
If his overall ratings and student exam results were high, maybe it would be easier. But that penalty clause at the end? That had to be a joke.
This system wasn't here to help him—it was here to ruin him.
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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