Chapter 17: The First Lesson — The Exam
At first, Douglas had only taken up meditation out of curiosity.
He wanted to see whether it might trigger some hidden benefit meant for travelers from another world.
Unfortunately, nothing dramatic ever happened.
He never saw the so-called magical elements drifting through the air, nor did any mysterious power reveal itself to him.
And yet, after years of persistence, the effects were undeniable.
Compared with his peers, his magical power had grown unusually quickly.
His spellcasting was faster too.
Most importantly, once he reached adulthood—when many witches and wizards found that their magical growth slowed significantly or stopped altogether—Douglas could still clearly feel his power continuing to increase.
An hour later, as the first light of sunrise spread across the grounds of Hogwarts, a lone figure moved across the lawn below the castle.
Douglas ran first.
Then, after finishing his run, he went through a sequence of crane-form movements.
He rose and settled with controlled precision, every motion light yet stable.
Far above, in Gryffindor Tower, Professor McGonagall—still in her dressing gown—caught sight of the familiar figure on the slope through the window.
At first she froze.
Then she laughed dryly to herself.
"For a moment, I thought someone had secretly used a Time-Turner on me."
She shook her head.
"I nearly forgot that Mr. Holmes is a professor now."
Back when Douglas had still been a student, he had spent several years running around the Hogwarts grounds at dawn.
Afterward, he would stand on the lawn and go through those strange, unfamiliar motions.
At first, one student had even reported that Douglas was performing some sort of Dark ritual.
But Professor McGonagall, who had enough familiarity with both worlds, and Dumbledore, who had seen rather more than most people, recognized it for what it was:
a Muggle form of physical training.
They did not understand it, but neither did they object to it.
After exercising, Douglas went first to the kitchens.
Before he could say a word, the house-elves had already prepared the breakfast he preferred.
Soy milk, tofu pudding, porridge, fried dough sticks, steamed dumplings, and more.
Of course, this was no longer made for him alone.
Ever since Douglas had introduced these breakfasts to Hogwarts, many students and teachers had developed a fondness for them.
After eating, he returned to his office and looked over the lesson plan he had prepared for his first class.
His first lesson of the year was with the fifth-year Ravenclaws.
Before class even began, they had all arrived and settled into their seats, whispering among themselves.
Everyone wanted to see what sort of lesson Professor Holmes—a teacher only a few years older than many of them—would actually give.
Soon, Douglas entered through the side door carrying a stack of parchment.
His expression was stern.
He placed the papers on the desk, swept his gaze over the classroom, and took in the students now sitting up straight.
Then he nodded with satisfaction.
"Very good. No one is late."
He paused.
"As your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I want to begin by asking you all a question."
His gaze moved across the room.
"You are in fifth year now. Do you know what the greatest challenge you will face this year is?"
The students exchanged uncertain looks.
Douglas's expression darkened slightly.
What, exactly, had Quirrell been doing in class last year?
At last, one girl answered weakly,
"The O.W.L. exam. I heard from a sixth-year last year that she did very badly and only got an E in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
The other students immediately began murmuring among themselves.
Douglas's face turned cold.
Apparently, they felt that because he was young, he did not yet have the authority of a real professor.
They certainly would not have behaved like this in Professor McGonagall's class.
Or Snape's.
"Quiet!"
The classroom fell silent at once.
"Has no one ever taught you to raise your hand before answering a question?"
He pointed.
"The girl in the middle of the second row. Stand and answer properly."
A girl with short yellow-brown hair rose to her feet, though not without pride.
When she had first come to Hogwarts, she had heard the older students speak of Douglas Holmes often enough.
According to them, he had been one of the strangest and most troublesome students Hufflepuff had ever produced.
And now, somehow, he was standing here as her teacher.
"It's the O.W.L. exam, Professor," she said. "Last year I saw the fifth-years working very hard to prepare for it."
Douglas nodded.
"A good answer. Yes, the O.W.L. exam is indeed the greatest challenge before you."
Then he tilted his head slightly.
"However, when answering in a class where the teacher does not yet know your name, I suggest you include it. Had you done that, I would gladly have awarded Ravenclaw five points."
The girl's face turned red.
Finally, sounding embarrassed and faintly aggrieved, she said,
"Windsor Shirley, Professor."
Then she corrected herself properly.
"My name is Windsor Shirley, Professor Holmes."
Douglas looked pleased.
"Very good. Don't be so nervous, Miss Shirley."
Then he added, as though announcing something perfectly ordinary,
"From today onward, you will serve as the Ravenclaw class representative for Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Windsor Shirley stared at him.
So did the rest of the class.
Class representative?
Hogwarts had never had such a position.
Douglas continued without pause.
"The duties of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class representative are as follows."
He raised one finger.
"First: to actively share study methods with classmates, help improve their learning habits, organize activities related to Defense Against the Dark Arts, and create a strong atmosphere of study."
A second finger.
"Second: to remain in close contact with classmates and understand their progress."
A third.
"Third: to maintain close communication with the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, accept guidance and instructions, and convey your classmates' suggestions and requests. In short, to serve as a bridge between the class and the teacher."
A fourth.
"Fourth: to actively help students who are struggling, supervise them in completing homework and corrections on time, and put a stop to plagiarism."
A fifth.
"Fifth: to be strict with yourself, study diligently, improve your own grades, and set an example for the rest of the class."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"And if I think of additional duties later, I will add them."
Then he looked directly at Windsor Shirley.
"If you perform these duties well, I will award Ravenclaw thirty points at the end of the school year based on your work."
His tone remained mild.
"I do not imagine Miss Shirley will refuse."
Now the entire classroom was staring at her.
Some of the girls were already looking at Windsor with open jealousy.
After all, the power Douglas had just described was not much less than that of a prefect in certain matters.
Windsor swallowed hard and pointed uncertainly toward the front row.
"Professor—Professor Holmes, I mean—Ravenclaw already has prefects. Margery Vina and Lizzie Quinton. I…"
Douglas gestured for her to sit down.
"Yes, of course I know that."
His voice stayed calm.
"However, the prefects are responsible for all of Ravenclaw House. Their time and energy are limited."
He turned toward the prefects.
"You, Miss Shirley, are only responsible for fifth-year Ravenclaw Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Then he addressed the prefects directly.
"Miss Vina, Mr. Quinton. This does not apply to Miss Shirley alone. I intend to appoint one class representative from each house and each year to assist me in teaching."
He smiled faintly.
"I also expect the two of you to provide Miss Shirley with a little help when necessary."
Then he added, with deliberate emphasis,
"In matters concerning Defense Against the Dark Arts, the duties of a class representative may well be greater than those of a prefect. Do you understand?"
He paused.
"Oh, and regarding the orchard fruit distributed through student leadership, my class representatives will also receive a share."
At that, the two Ravenclaw prefects could do nothing but accept it for the moment.
Still, both were plainly planning to raise the matter with their Head of House after class.
No student, however naïve, wanted to see influence and privilege handed to someone else.
And as prefects at Hogwarts, the hidden benefits they enjoyed were not minor.
Now Douglas had not only created a brand-new position, but openly declared that these unknown class representatives would share in the special treatment long reserved for prefects and upper-years.
Quinton could not sit still any longer.
He stood abruptly.
"I'm sorry, Professor, but those fruits are the spoils belonging to the prefects and the older students. They are very limited. They cannot simply be given to class representatives."
The moment the words left his mouth, Quinton regretted them.
The previous evening, he had heard several seventh-years discussing stories from Douglas Holmes's fourth and fifth years.
From their descriptions, Douglas had only one obvious Hufflepuff trait:
he liked food.
In almost every other respect, he did not seem like a Hufflepuff at all.
One of the seventh-years had even said that the rare full-scale conflict between the four houses years ago seemed to have begun because of the new Professor Holmes.
The details had been vague.
After all, back then, those seventh-years had only been first- and second-years themselves.
But one conclusion had been clear:
Professor Holmes was not someone to take lightly, and students were expected to behave properly in his classroom.
So when Douglas turned and looked at him with that strange smile, Quinton immediately regretted speaking up so quickly.
Then again…
If he defended the rights of the prefects here and now, he might become a hero among the student leaders.
Perhaps the sixth-year prefect he admired would even look at him differently afterward.
That thought gave him fresh courage.
Douglas gave a short, disdainful laugh.
"The spoils?"
He nodded slowly.
"Oh yes. That explanation does make a certain sort of sense."
Then his smile sharpened.
"After all, they were spoils gained through labor…"
He paused.
"…while serving as prisoners of war."
The whole classroom froze.
Douglas had not expected the story to become so thoroughly twisted over the years.
Apparently, each generation of prefects had passed down some version that claimed the fruit privileges as a sort of inherited victory.
Only after Douglas had left Hogwarts had the truth been buried under years of student invention.
Douglas, however, knew exactly where the privilege had really come from.
Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had never treated it that way.
Hufflepuffs enjoyed the orchard's benefits whether they were prefects or not. Not least because Douglas himself had once been one.
And Bill Weasley, by his seventh year, had been not only a prefect, but Head Boy as well.
More importantly, neither Gryffindor nor Hufflepuff had ever been quite as calculating about such matters as Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
Now Quinton was not the only one furious.
Vina, the other prefect, looked equally offended.
Both clearly thought Douglas was making the whole thing up.
That certainly was not the version their predecessors had given them.
Seeing their expressions, Douglas decided not to torment them much longer.
He simply explained.
"Have neither of you ever noticed that the orchard where students serve detention is called Holmes Orchard?"
That silenced the room.
"Yes," Douglas said. "You guessed correctly. I was the one who planted it."
He let that settle for a moment.
"Although the school does not encourage discussion of what happened back then, I can say this much."
Then he looked directly at the two prefects.
"The reason your prefects enjoy that treatment is not because they defeated me."
He folded his arms.
"It is because I upheld the principles of peace, friendship, unity, and mutual assistance, and chose to distribute part of the orchard's fruit to your house as a reward for those students who worked there."
Then his smile turned cooler.
"To be more precise, the fruit your prefects receive should have been distributed as compensation for students who were put in detention and made to work in the orchard."
Douglas had no intention of admitting that the arrangement originally came from a school punishment imposed on him as the instigator of that infamous brawl.
When the class heard this, several students immediately turned to stare at the prefects through gritted teeth.
There were always students in every year who had been made to serve detention.
And even though Douglas was now a professor, he was still young enough to get annoyed from time to time.
Douglas continued calmly.
"The fruit my class representatives receive will come from my personal share."
"So please do not drag my class representatives into disputes that do not concern them."
He let his gaze sweep over the room.
"Any other questions?"
Silence.
Then, unexpectedly, a girl with twin ponytails near the back shot her hand into the air with obvious excitement.
Douglas blinked.
He had thought his cold expression had successfully intimidated the entire class.
Apparently not.
He sighed inwardly.
It seemed his stern-face technique still had a long way to go before it could rival Snape's.
Then again, Snape had built that reputation in a single lesson.
Reluctantly, Douglas motioned for the girl to stand.
"Professor, my name is Vincent Dina. I want to know about the big fight between the four houses seven years ago. Can you tell us about it?"
Her eyes gleamed.
"I've asked several professors, and none of them are willing to talk about it. The older students only know vague details, and the school keeps no clear record of it."
She leaned forward.
"As far as I know, it was connected to the orchard. Since you planted the orchard, were you involved in that battle as well?"
Douglas was taken aback.
He had not expected her to be interested in the brawl itself.
He touched his nose awkwardly.
He had once promised Dumbledore that he would never speak of that incident again, in case it inspired another inter-house war.
"Ahem. Miss Dina, if you earn an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts on your O.W.L., then perhaps I will tell you the cause, process, and outcome of that incident."
He gave a faint smile.
"I will reveal one thing, however: the incident began because of me… and several graduated Ravenclaw seniors."
The moment the class heard that there had been not just a male lead to the story but female participants as well—and more than one—countless dramatic possibilities immediately burst into life in their imaginations.
Douglas ignored the excited whispers and clapped his hands sharply to restore order.
"Back to the real matter."
He looked around the room.
"It is true enough that each year seems more hopeless than the last. When I was a student, we began worrying about the O.W.L.s in fourth year."
He let that hang there.
"And now you are already in fifth year and still had to think before answering what your greatest challenge is."
Douglas was not wrong.
Though, admittedly, not every student in his own year had started worrying about the O.W.L.s in fourth year on their own initiative.
At his urging, Bill Weasley had once established a study mutual-aid group.
A paid one, naturally.
Douglas continued.
"The O.W.L.—the Ordinary Wizarding Level examination—is not the same as the ordinary final exams you have taken before. It is a twelve-subject examination administered by the Ministry of Magic, and it will influence your future."
He paced slowly as he spoke.
"It is the Ministry's test of what you have learned in your first five years at Hogwarts. It is also the first truly formal assessment you will face beyond the shelter of the school."
"It will be one of the main standards by which other witches and wizards judge your ability."
He paused.
"Defense Against the Dark Arts is one of those twelve subjects."
Then his tone turned cool again.
"I have looked over your previous results. Your knowledge of Dark creatures in the lower years is fairly solid."
"However, your mastery of defensive techniques last year was appalling."
The room went very still.
"In other words, this year you must not only learn the material expected of fifth-years, but also make up some of the essential defensive spells you failed to master last year."
Then he added more lightly,
"Do not panic. I already have a full plan for your studies this year."
He pointed his wand toward the stack of parchment at the front.
At once, the test papers flew neatly to each student's desk.
"This is a test of your theoretical foundation. It covers everything you should have learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts since entering Hogwarts."
He glanced over the class.
"Of course, in addition to this written test, there will also be a practical assessment."
"These results will determine the direction of your studies this year."
Then he said, in a voice that left no room for discussion,
"You have one hour remaining in this period. For that hour, you will behave as if you are in an examination hall."
"No whispering."
"No magical means of cheating."
Several Ravenclaws looked offended by the very suggestion.
They were Ravenclaws—clever, diligent, and serious students. How could he imply that they might cheat?
That indignation lasted only until they looked down at the paper.
Then confusion set in.
Were these questions truly from the textbook?
For example:
Which of the following statements is correct?
a) Only those killed by an Unforgivable Curse can become Inferi.b) Garlic can stop ghosts from haunting you.c) People do not know Dementors exist in the tropics.d) A hex is stronger than a jinx, and a curse is stronger than both.e) If a werewolf couple conceives during a full moon, they will give birth to wolf cubs instead of human babies.
And those were only the strange ones.
There were also questions that ought to have been easy.
At least for some students.
What is the effect of the Blasting Curse?
a) Makes objects disappearb) Makes objects smallerc) Blasts objects into piecesd) Causes objects to melt
What happens to the reader of the cursed book The Wizard's Sonnets?
a) They read foreverb) They die instantlyc) They begin inhaling the pagesd) They can speak only in limericks for the rest of their life
And so on.
Throughout the second half of the lesson, Douglas walked around the classroom in silence.
From time to time he would stop behind someone and stare at their answer sheet for an uncomfortably long time.
Some students became so nervous they could barely think.
Then, with only fifteen minutes left, Douglas suddenly said in a tone so calm that it somehow made things worse:
"Attention, candidates. You have fifteen minutes remaining. Only fifteen minutes."
If they had dared, several of the students still struggling through page after page would have called him every insulting name they knew.
Half the hundred questions were short-answer responses.
Never mind that many of the topics came from earlier years.
Even a Ravenclaw still needed time to write.
When the hour was up, Douglas did not care whether anyone had finished.
With a flick of his wand, every parchment sheet flew from the students' hands to the desk at the front.
Then he clapped once and said simply,
"This is only the first theoretical assessment, so do not be too distressed."
He paused.
"From now on, we will have a monthly examination every month. In time, you will get used to it."
A soft collective groan seemed to pass through the room.
Then Douglas added,
"Miss Shirley, come to my office after seven this evening."
He nodded once.
"All right. Class dismissed."
The moment he announced the end of the lesson, a rapid series of clear ding, ding, ding sounds rang through his mind.
But this was hardly the place to stand there in a daze.
Before the last student had even fully left the classroom, Douglas gathered up the test papers and returned alone to the office on the second floor.
The Ravenclaws filed out wearing expressions of utter misery.
For students who loved grades more than anything, nothing was more painful than being unable to finish a paper before time was called.
On the way back to the Ravenclaw common room, the two prefects quickly drew Windsor Shirley aside and began discussing the test in low voices.
The prefects were prefects for a reason.
Now that the matter had been settled, they understood almost at once what Douglas intended with this new class representative position.
Whether they liked it or not, they had no choice but to accept this new layer of student management within his classroom.
Several girls who were not especially close to Windsor hovered nearby, hoping to learn how much of the paper she had managed to finish.
The attraction of daily fruit was simply too strong.
In their view, Windsor Shirley had only been lucky enough to answer first and catch Douglas's attention.
If they could outperform her, then sooner or later they would replace her.
What they did not know was that Douglas had not chosen her at random.
Some Ravenclaws were already thinking ahead to elective classes with Hufflepuffs.
Surely there had to be some way to trade information for fruit.
After all, among the four houses, only Hufflepuff students normally ate fruit as a matter of course.
For the other three houses, that privilege belonged only to prefects.
The Defense Against the Dark Arts period itself had lasted no more than fifteen minutes longer than necessary.
After Douglas put away the test papers, he settled his mind and finally turned his attention inward.
The system panel appeared.
[Student Development System]
[Student satisfaction for this class: 6 points.]
Student assignment completion: 0 points.
Average student progress score: 8.
Classroom activity score: 5 points.
…
Douglas stared at the results.
He had not expected a particularly high score from his very first lesson.
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