After finishing the article, Percy was absolutely certain—this headline had to be his boss's handiwork.
That style was unmistakable. He'd seen it countless times before. Back when Bill first started the study group and Percy was just a first-year, Douglas had roped him in to help recruit members, and the headlines he wrote then were exactly like this.
Douglas poured himself a cup of tea and said,
"It's really quite simple. I just need to ask you one question. Suppose the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was someone named Tom Riddle. As a student's parent, what would you do?"
Percy frowned, thinking it over.
"If I were a parent, well, I'd trust Headmaster Dumbledore's judgment, but since I'd never heard of this person before, I'd still be cautious. I'd want to see if he was really qualified to teach. He'd have to prove himself bit by bit, especially under all the skepticism from the wizarding world... Boss, your situation right now is just like this Tom Riddle—not trusted by students' parents. But unlike him, your other name is already famous and beloved in the wizarding world. So you don't need to waste time proving yourself. Just reveal your other identity and everything will blow over quickly. I'm right, aren't I?"
Douglas set down his teacup and gave Percy a peculiar look.
"You've got most of it right—except for one thing."
Percy frowned, puzzled.
"What did I get wrong?"
Douglas grinned.
"If Tom Riddle wanted to avoid suspicion, all he'd have to do is what I did—tell everyone about his other identity..."
Percy chuckled as he poured himself another cup of tea.
"Hah! Boss, not everyone is like you—spending ten years building a pen name into pure gold, while keeping your real name a secret from almost everyone!"
Douglas shrugged.
"I only spent ten years. Tom Riddle spent decades. You've heard his other name too—Voldemort..."
"Pfft!"
Half the tea in Percy's mouth sprayed out, the rest shooting up into his nose.
"Cough, cough!"
Douglas wrinkled his nose in distaste, pulling out a box of tissues he'd bought in the Muggle world and handing them over. With a flick of his wand, he cleaned up the spilled tea.
...
Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.
As usual, Douglas entered directly from the office side door. Today's lesson was supposed to be a practical exam, but since the seventh-years assigned to maintain the classroom were busy elsewhere, he'd postponed the practical to Saturday morning.
When the students heard their weekend would be taken up by a practical, not one of them complained. Most were still worried about failing the exam. Professor Holmes had mercifully given them five extra days to revise—they were thrilled, not resentful. After all, it was only two hours on a Saturday.
When Douglas walked in with a stack of parchment, the whole class fell silent—then burst into thunderous applause and cheers!
Vincent Dena, the aspiring journalist, grabbed a book and dashed up to the podium.
"Professor, could you sign this for me? I really admire you! Could I do an exclusive interview—"
Before she could finish, Miss Shirley, the Ravenclaw class rep, dragged her firmly back to her seat.
Douglas nodded approvingly at his class rep.
He looked around and realized that nearly every student's desk was piled not just with textbooks, but with one or more of his own novels.
Well then—were they planning to turn his class into an autograph session?
But when his gaze swept over the class rep's desk, he found only textbooks. Another mental point for his excellent choice of class rep.
The students, catching his eye, quickly lowered their hands. The room fell quiet, but every face was lit up with eager anticipation—like they'd just discovered their teacher was a secret celebrity.
Douglas put on his best stern face and barked,
"Fifth years! Do you even know what you're doing? Chasing after celebrities! Is this what O.W.L.s candidates look like?"
He paused, fixing them with a glare.
"I imagine Miss Shirley has already told you the results of last lesson's mock exam. Hmph! Our class's pass rate didn't even hit thirty percent. And, most embarrassing of all, someone actually failed."
He let the silence linger, then added,
"Let me make this clear—next year, to take my Defence Against the Dark Arts class, you'll need an 'Outstanding' on your O.W.L.s. With grades like these..."
Before he could finish, the class erupted in a low buzz.
"Loads of Defence Against the Dark Arts professors have said that, but none ever last till the next year."
"I still hope Professor Holmes stays. You don't get a talented, good-looking professor every year!"
"Me too, but you know the job's supposed to be cursed..."
...
SMACK!
Douglas slammed the stack of parchment onto the lectern.
"Enough! Why don't you come up here and teach, and I'll sit down and listen? Miss Shirley, collect everything on their desks!"
The sharper students immediately sensed trouble. But a few, still caught up in the excitement, whispered,
"Is the Professor going to sign every book? I should've brought more!"
Douglas watched as Shirley, stone-faced, went around collecting every book from her classmates.
He cleared his throat.
"You won't be seeing these books again until after your O.W.L.s. Starting this week, we'll have a mock exam every week until the real thing. What's that? Not happy?"
He looked around, unimpressed.
"If you get a 'P' on your O.W.L.s, what's it got to do with me? My Galleons won't decrease. So why am I still here, working so hard to get you to study..."
Shirley, arms full of confiscated books, staggered to the front and dumped them on the desk.
"Professor, I've collected them all!"
Douglas nodded, but added,
"Remember this for next time—you're a witch. Don't you know the Levitation Charm? And the rest of you, listen up: in my class, unless you're doing homework, I don't mind you waving your wands around. Practice makes perfect. It'll help you on the O.W.L.s practical."
He fixed them with a look.
"And don't give me those miserable faces. I promise—anyone who gets 'Outstanding' ten weeks in a row on the weekly tests can have their book back, with my signature. And if you get 'Outstanding' on your O.W.L.s, I'll put a character based on you in my next novel..."
The students who'd just been sulking over their confiscated books suddenly erupted in cheers.
"Long live the Professor!"
"Professor, I'll definitely get Outstanding!"
"You have to keep your word, Professor!"
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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