Chapter 13: Long Time No See
"Oh," Harry said suddenly, lowering his voice, "that's where my Muggle cousin chased me once."
He pointed vaguely down the road.
"When we got back, Aunt Petunia actually scolded both Dudley and me."
He sounded faintly amazed even now.
"And after that, we were forbidden from going anywhere near Rose Road."
Hermione immediately began theorizing.
"Do you think it was because your aunt knew the professor lived here?"
She frowned thoughtfully.
"You said your family hated anything connected to magic."
Harry shook his head at once.
"No chance."
He looked toward the front door, where Douglas had just gone inside.
"The professor's too young. There's no way they would know each other."
Mr. and Mrs. Granger were also taking in the house with great interest.
The neat front garden and the perfectly ordinary exterior were nothing like the mysterious wizard's residence they had half expected.
And after watching Douglas bargain with the taxi driver as naturally and efficiently as any experienced Londoner, their opinion of him rose yet another notch.
Once everyone entered the house and set their things aside, the contrast became even clearer.
The whole place was utterly unlike the Burrow.
It was a proper Muggle home.
Every modern appliance was in place.
There was even a recently assembled game console setup.
Douglas let the children roam freely and brought out snacks for them, though he made one rule absolutely clear:
No one was allowed into the study.
That room contained his original manuscripts—
and, perhaps even more importantly, the expensive computer he had specially paid to have assembled.
He had no intention of letting an overexcited child dismantle either one.
After that, Douglas headed into the kitchen.
Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Granger followed to help.
Mrs. Weasley might have been formidable when it came to practical magic, but that did not necessarily translate to Chinese cooking.
So in the end, she could do little more than assist around the edges.
Meanwhile, in the living room, the Weasley children managed to remain reasonably restrained for perhaps a minute or two under the weight of Douglas's authority.
Then Arthur's curiosity got the better of everyone.
With Mr. Granger answering questions and Mr. Weasley asking them, the children rapidly lost what little caution they had started with and began exploring the house properly.
Fred, George, and Ginny opened the refrigerator and immediately began discussing whether it might contain some kind of permanent freezing charm.
A second later, the twins were already debating how best to dismantle it.
Mr. Granger rushed over in alarm and stopped them just in time, then launched into an explanation of how refrigeration actually worked.
On the other side of the room, Harry awkwardly introduced Ron to the game console.
Harry had secretly played Dudley's games often enough to have some idea what he was doing.
Once the screen lit up, Ron and Percy promptly started arguing over the television, while Hermione tried to correct both of them and Harry attempted to restore order.
Watching the scene, Mr. Granger felt a wave of private terror.
He had once thought it might be nice to invite the Weasleys to his own house someday.
Now he had a horrifying suspicion that they might leave without a single appliance intact.
Dinner, however, was magnificent.
At least in the eyes of both the Weasley and Granger families.
When everyone finally gathered around the table, Douglas gave a brief welcome speech, formally welcoming both families into his home.
After that, both the Weasleys and the Grangers expressed their thanks for his hospitality and the trouble he had gone to.
The dinner conversation flowed easily enough.
They discussed the many differences between the Muggle and wizarding worlds.
Arthur Weasley did most of the asking, the Grangers answered where they could, and Douglas filled in the rest.
At one point, the conversation even drifted to the collapse of a great nation the previous year, and the discussion somehow expanded into both Muggle and wizarding political consequences.
Douglas also expressed sincere sympathy for Harry's run-in with the house-elf—and the Ministry warning that had followed.
And under the twins' despairing looks and desperate attempts at silent pleading, Douglas promised Mrs. Weasley that once term began, he would make sure Fred and George received proper discipline at Hogwarts.
The dinner lasted three full hours.
By the time it ended, both the Weasleys and the Grangers departed for London, and from there everyone returned home.
At nine o'clock the next morning, Douglas had already tidied the house.
Then, carrying two suitcases, he stepped into the fireplace.
This was a temporary Floo connection Hogwarts had specially arranged for him.
He threw down the Floo powder in his hand.
"Deputy Headmistress McGonagall's office, Hogwarts!"
A moment later, he stumbled out of the green flames and brushed the ash from his clothes.
Professor McGonagall was waiting for him.
"Welcome, Professor Holmes."
There was the faintest hint of amusement in her expression.
"I'll show you your Defense Against the Dark Arts office first. At noon there will be a staff luncheon to welcome our newest member."
Then she added, with suspicious innocence,
"I imagine Professor Sprout will be rather displeased that you didn't go and visit her properly the last time you were here."
Seeing that rare playful note in her expression, Douglas immediately suspected some sort of wager had taken place between McGonagall and his old Head of House.
So he tested the waters at once.
"Don't worry, Professor. I'll personally provide the main course for the luncheon."
McGonagall raised her eyebrows, evidently satisfied.
"Excellent. In that case, your private kitchen privileges will remain undisturbed."
Douglas nearly sighed aloud.
So that was it.
And judging by her expression, Professor Sprout had definitely lost the bet.
Many students at Hogwarts had once envied Douglas for possessing his own private kitchen.
Very few of them knew the truth.
Originally, that kitchen had essentially been a refined form of solitary confinement.
Cooking for the entire staff had simply become an accidental side effect.
They soon arrived outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office on the third floor.
The room itself was bare stone and austerely medieval.
Then again—
Douglas supposed it was worth remembering that Hogwarts actually was a medieval castle.
McGonagall stepped aside and gestured toward it.
"This is your office now. Mr. Filch has already cleaned it."
She pointed inward.
"The room beyond serves as your private quarters. There is also a spiral staircase through the side door in the corner, leading directly to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the second floor."
"As for how you choose to arrange the office or classroom, that is entirely your business. The school will not interfere."
Then she nodded toward the desk.
"There is a list there of the students enrolled from the six year groups."
She paused.
"For the sixth years, however, only those with sufficiently strong marks have been included."
Her expression shifted very slightly.
"If you require… greater flexibility…"
Douglas understood immediately.
Given last year's results, if admission to the advanced class were truly limited by excellence, there might not be many students left at all.
"All right, Professor," he said. "I understand. I'll sort it out."
McGonagall nodded.
"The staff luncheon is at one o'clock in the staff room. Don't forget."
With that, she turned and left.
Douglas watched her go.
The direction she took was very clearly not toward her office.
No doubt she had already gone off to report the outcome of some private wager.
Once she was gone, Douglas locked the office door at once.
Then he gathered up the documents from the desk, drew his wand, and pointed it at the room's furniture.
"Reducio."
One by one, the furnishings began shrinking at a visible rate until they were no larger than children's toys.
Douglas crouched, picked them up carefully, and packed them into a box he had brought along.
Later, he could ask the house-elves in the kitchens to find somewhere to store them.
After that, he opened the trunk and took out another crate.
This one held an entire set of Chinese-style furniture, specially commissioned from a craftsman in Hong Kong.
With magic, Douglas set to work.
Before long, a strange but elegant little pocket of ancient Eastern style had appeared in the heart of a medieval castle in the Scottish Highlands.
Douglas looked at the fireplace and sighed.
"Shame it isn't a true kang. The fireplace itself can't be made to disappear."
Even so, he adapted to the room easily enough.
A tea table went beside the fireplace.
A solid wooden screen separated that corner from the main office area.
That way, the space could serve both as a place to make tea and as a quieter spot to sit and talk with students.
Behind the desk stood a matching Chinese bookshelf, beautifully crafted.
On the walls he hung a number of calligraphy pieces and paintings he had collected over the years.
He suspected no one in Hogwarts except himself would have the slightest idea how to appreciate them.
The bedroom he kept much simpler.
Apart from the bed, the rest of the arrangement resembled a sparse Zen room more than an ordinary wizard's quarters.
By the time he finished, it was still fairly early.
So Douglas passed through the side door, climbed down the spiral staircase, and entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the second floor.
Aside from the desks and chairs, there was almost nothing left of the room he remembered from his own student days.
He considered making major changes.
Some part of him even recalled classrooms from his previous life and briefly wondered whether he should imitate them.
In the end, he decided against it.
Clean and plain was fine.
The only major addition he made was a large blackboard at the back of the room.
Once that was done, Douglas left the classroom and made his way out into the castle proper.
He headed down toward the lower levels of Hogwarts.
Down the stairs to the entrance hall.
Then left.
Then through a door leading into a broad stone corridor lit by cheerful torches and lined with lively paintings.
Douglas knew this place very well.
Hands clasped behind his back, he walked slowly until he stopped before a huge still life painting.
Just beyond it, further along on the right, was the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.
He had lived there for seven years.
But that was not the purpose of this visit.
Douglas turned toward the painting, smiled softly, and said:
"Long time no see."
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