Chapter 5: This System Might Be Trying to Trick Me
"I could personally invite that writer to teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts alongside you this year," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.
"I imagine two writers might have a great deal to discuss."
He paused, smiling faintly.
"Of course, we would still respect your opinion."
Douglas heard those words and suddenly felt a strange chill.
Competition for a position.
Elimination of the weaker candidate.
The ideas sounded disturbingly familiar.
No matter where he went—across worlds, across cultures, from the Muggle world to the wizarding one—he seemed unable to escape that particular form of pressure.
Douglas rose to his feet immediately, speaking with resolute confidence.
"Headmaster, please rest assured."
"I believe I alone can handle the entire Defense Against the Dark Arts program at Hogwarts."
Before Dumbledore could respond, Douglas quickly signed the appointment letter.
Hmph.
No hesitation.
The moment the quill left the parchment—
A voice echoed inside his mind.
[Top Student Development System activated…]
Douglas nearly exhaled in relief.
The last time the system had spoken to him, it had delivered only a single sentence.
[Activation condition for Top Student Development System: Join a school. Remaining time: Two years.]
As a traveler from another world, Douglas naturally understood what that meant.
Back then, he had stared at the sky for two full hours in frustration.
Still, there had been a certain satisfaction.
A traveler with a system and a traveler without one were two completely different things.
Even if it arrived late, it was better than nothing.
The only issue was that "two years" had apparently meant two and a half.
Douglas still found that slightly irritating.
Of course, after living in the wizarding world for more than ten years, he had learned an important lesson:
Never trust anything that can think for itself unless you know where its brain is.
So when the system first appeared, Douglas had seriously considered resisting it with Occlumency.
If he had been raised entirely in the wizarding world, he might even have attempted to research soul magic.
Unfortunately, information on those subjects was extremely limited.
Eventually, watching the countdown tick closer and closer to zero, Douglas decided to compromise.
With the small fortune he had accumulated from writing novels, he enrolled briefly in a university in London.
He only attended for a single semester.
Every morning, however, the system would greet him with the same message—displayed like a countdown timer.
It never activated.
Until one day, his Muggle professor said to him:
"Mr. Holmes, I would like to train you as my research assistant."
That was when Douglas had a sudden realization.
Perhaps the system's name was literal.
"Development" might refer not only to developing oneself…
But also to developing others.
Still, after so many years away from the Muggle world, Douglas ultimately decided to apply to Hogwarts instead.
If that failed—
Well.
He could always become a primary school teacher.
He was fairly certain Dean George wouldn't mind that he lacked a formal teaching certificate.
After Douglas signed the letter, his expression visibly relaxed.
Dumbledore noticed the change.
A quiet smile appeared behind his half-moon spectacles.
He raised his wand and tapped the air lightly.
A silver phoenix formed from the Patronus Charm, circled once above the desk, and vanished through the window.
At that moment, the real phoenix perched nearby let out a soft cry.
Dumbledore chuckled.
"Fawkes is asking why you didn't bring him a gift."
He shook his head slightly.
"Ever since that incident, I've forbidden him from touching the chili sauce you taught the kitchen staff to make."
"It appears he developed quite a fondness for it."
Dumbledore looked at Douglas meaningfully.
"So while you're teaching here, Mr. Holmes… please refrain from feeding him anything unusual."
He rubbed his temples.
For a brief moment, he wondered if admitting Douglas to Hogwarts had been a mistake.
Douglas, meanwhile, recalled the incident that had nearly caused Fawkes to undergo an early rebirth.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
"Don't worry, Headmaster."
After all…
Thirty years wasn't really that long.
Even though Douglas's soul had already lived more than forty.
Not long after the Patronus phoenix departed the office, Dumbledore smiled again.
"Douglas, I think you should visit Minerva now."
He glanced toward the door.
"If we stay here much longer, she may suspect we've started cooking hot pot in the office again."
Douglas instinctively glanced around the room.
There was no cauldron anywhere.
Dumbledore noticed the search and shrugged.
His expression seemed to say, Surely you understand why.
"You know, Severus visits my office quite often."
"I prefer not to test the patience of a Potions Master."
He then gestured discreetly upward.
Douglas understood immediately.
When Douglas returned to Professor McGonagall's office, the package of pastries he had brought earlier had already been opened.
McGonagall was reading a document when he entered.
Without looking up, she said calmly,
"They're quite good. Thank you, Mr. Holmes."
She set the parchment aside.
"Albus has already informed me."
For a moment, the normally stern professor actually smiled.
"Welcome, Professor Holmes."
"I believe Professor Sprout will be very pleased to hear the news."
Douglas bowed politely.
"It's only a temporary appointment. I hope to receive your guidance and support."
McGonagall nodded firmly and handed him a parchment.
"Of course."
"But first, take a look at this schedule."
She tapped the page.
"The position you're filling was the only vacancy. The other professors' timetables were already arranged."
"So your schedule is mostly fixed."
She added casually,
"If something urgent arises, you may ask Severus to cover one of your classes."
"I'm sure he would be delighted to help."
Douglas accepted the parchment with a polite smile.
Then the smile froze on his face.
"Professor… this entire schedule…"
He stared at the page.
"These are all my classes?"
McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Of course."
"Oh—and I nearly forgot."
"You've probably only seen the student version of the timetable before."
She folded her hands.
"Being a professor is not quite as leisurely as you might imagine."
Douglas suddenly regretted rejecting Dumbledore's suggestion of having two teachers share the position.
Still, hearing the faint skepticism in McGonagall's voice triggered his pride.
"Oh, Merlin's beard."
He pointed at the schedule.
"I mean… this isn't very many classes at all."
McGonagall blinked.
For a moment she looked as though she suspected she had misheard.
Douglas continued earnestly.
"Professor, look—most classes run between 8:30 in the morning and 4:45 in the afternoon."
"Except for Astronomy, which is held at eleven at night."
He tapped the parchment enthusiastically.
"That leaves a large amount of unused time."
"I realized this even when I was a student."
"For example, we could introduce morning study sessions from six to seven-thirty."
"Students could memorize theoretical material—History of Magic, defensive spell principles, that sort of thing."
"And in the evenings we could also—"
McGonagall stared at him.
At first she listened seriously.
But as Douglas grew more animated, her expression became increasingly strange.
"Mr. Holmes," she interrupted finally.
"If I remember correctly, you were not nearly so diligent when you were a student."
She folded her arms.
"You were late to Transfiguration class nearly ten times."
Douglas coughed quickly.
"Ahem… Professor, I believe I explained those situations."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes. I remember your explanations very clearly."
"You were busy in the kitchens."
"Or fertilizing your orchard."
"Or growing vegetables somewhere on the grounds."
She tapped the desk.
"And let us not forget the time you cast a spell on a Ravenclaw student over a basket of fruit."
Her voice turned slightly sharper.
"That incident started a full-scale brawl between all four houses."
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